Dark Night Over the Grand Palace — FICTIONAL STORY

Midnight struck like a warning bell over the Grand Palace. Storm clouds swirled above the ancient rooftops, lightning cracking open the darkness as if fate itself was trying to break in.

Inside, Prince Rowan paced the marble floors, unable to shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at him. Princess Elara sat nearby, eyes darting toward the tall windows every time thunder roared.

Then —
the doors burst open.

Thomas Parkwood stumbled inside, rain-soaked and breathless — panic carved into his face.

“Where is His Majesty?” he gasped.

Prince Rowan froze. “What happened?”

Thomas’ voice shattered:

“It’s the Queen… There was a crash. She’s been hurt.”

The room spun. Elara’s hand flew to her mouth. Rowan’s heartbeat slammed against his ribs like a drum signaling war.

King Aldric appeared at the top of the grand staircase — robes trailing behind him, crown casting shadows that made him look older than his years.

“Thomas,” he called down, voice stern but shaking beneath the surface, “speak plainly.”

Thomas bowed, fighting for composure.
“The Queen’s car… it skidded on the rain. She fell hard when the door flung open—”

His voice cracked:

“My mother… please— tell me she’s still safe.”

The prince stepped forward and grabbed Thomas by the shoulders.

“Where is she now?”

“At St. Brigid’s Wing,” Thomas replied. “Doctors are with her. The guards have sealed the area.”

Lightning flashed — illuminating the fear stamped onto every face.

King Aldric’s mask of royal calm shattered.
His whisper barely carried:

“I should have been with her.”

Without hesitation, Rowan signaled the royal guards.

“We’re going — now.”

The Palace plunged into chaos:

• Boots thundered across the halls
• Radios crackled with urgent orders
• Doors slammed like distant cannon fire

As they neared the exit, an advisor rushed toward them, eyes wide:

“There’s more,” he choked out. “The crash may not have been… accidental.”

Silence fell like a blade.

Elara’s breath hitched.
Thomas turned ghost-pale.

Rowan clenched his fists.

“Sabotage?”

The advisor nodded once — terrified.

A single sentence twisted the night into something far darker than a storm:

“Someone targeted the Queen.”

The King closed his eyes — and when they reopened, they burned with wrath and grief intertwined.

“Find them,” he commanded.
“Whoever dares threaten our family… will answer to me.”

The Palace gates opened.
Black cars surged into the rain.

And overhead, thunder rolled —
as if the sky itself was preparing for the war to come.