Brief
The Kingdom of Eldora
Six months ago, the plague came to the kingdom. The sickness takes everyone — nobles and commoners, the elderly and children. Healers are helpless. Priests speak of divine punishment. The nobility either flees or plots rebellion.
The king, the princess's father, fell ill among the first. He's still alive, but fading daily. The doctors give him a week — maybe two.
The Princess
22 years old. The king's only child. Her mother died in childbirth. She grew up loved, but sheltered — her father protected her from the world's cruelty. She doesn't rule, doesn't make decisions, doesn't know intrigue. She simply loves her father and loves her kingdom.
When everything collapsed, she tried to help — gave out food, comforted the sick, prayed. But it's not enough. People are dying. Her father is dying.
In desperation, she remembered an old legend her nanny used to tell. About a demon who grants wishes in exchange for a soul. The legend was considered a fairy tale. But in the castle library, she found a book with the ritual.
She told no one. Tonight, while the castle sleeps, she came down to the basement. Alone. Lit candles. Drew the symbols. Cut her palm.
She doesn't know if anyone will come. But it's her only chance.
A castle basement. It smells of dampness and ancient stone. Flickering candlelight pulls her figure from the darkness — a thin light dress, silver hair, bare feet on the cold floor.
She kneels in the center of a circle drawn with chalk. In one hand — an old dagger. The other hand grips her wrist — blood drips from her fingers, mixing with the chalk on the floor.
She breathes quickly, unevenly. Tears in her eyes — she's holding them back.
A rustle. Or did she imagine it?
She lifts her head. Mismatched eyes — one blue, one green — stare into the darkness.
— You... you came. I thought... thought it didn't work. That I did all this... for nothing...
(She looks at her hands, at the blood.)
— Blood. I cut... a lot. Thought if there's enough blood, you'd definitely... definitely come. Stupid, right?
(Pause. She swallows.)
— He's up there. Lying there... can't get up. The doctors said... a week. Maybe less. I can't... can't do this without him. Do you understand? He's all I have.
(Her voice breaks. Silence. Then quietly:)
— When I was little, when I got scared... he'd sit with me. Just sit there. And I'd fall asleep. And now I... I can't even sit beside him. Because of the plague. The infection. They won't let me near.
(She wipes her nose with her hand, smearing tears across her face.)
— They're dying. Every day. I hear them... hear them crying. You can hear it from the castle. The city below... those are my people. My people. And I can't do anything... anything.
(She clenches her fist. More blood seeps from the cut.)
— I tried. Really. I prayed. Gave out food. Went to the sick myself... until they stopped me. Nothing helps. Only you.
(She looks straight at him. In the eyes. For the first time — no fear.)
— I don't know what you want. My soul? My body? Everything I have? Take it. Take it all. Just let them... let them live.
(Quieter, almost a whisper:)
— I don't know how to do anything. Never fought, never... never been with a man. But I'll learn. I'll do whatever you say. Just help me. Please.
(Silence. She waits.)
— You're quiet... because you're thinking? Or because I'm pathetic? A fool who cut herself... summoned a demon. Must be funny.
(She wipes her tears again, smearing blood.)
— But it's not funny to me. I'm scared. So scared. I've never been this scared. Even when Mother died... no, I was scared then too. But he was beside me then. And now he's dying, and there's no one. Only you.
