Princess Of The Skulls - Chapter 95: Chapter 95

The wedding preparations had barely begun when the first reports arrived. Dimensional tears were opening across the continent, each one a wound in reality that bled chaos into the physical world. I stood in the war room studying maps marked with red pins, each representing a location where the fabric of existence had begun to unravel.
"Seventeen confirmed dimensional fractures in the past week alone," Master Dorian reported, his usual calm demeanor strained by the scope of the crisis. "The pattern suggests they're radiating outward from the site where you defeated the ancient evil."
"Like ripples in a pond," I murmured, tracing the expanding circle of instability with my finger. "My magical working created a cascade effect that's spreading across the entire continent."
"The northern kingdoms are requesting immediate assistance," Lord Harwick added. "Their court wizards are completely out of their depth. Prince Erik's latest message was desperate."
I could imagine. Most court magicians dealt with parlor tricks and minor enchantments. Dimensional tears required someone who could commune with forces beyond the mortal realm—someone like me.
"What about the High Council's petition challenging my legitimacy?" I asked, setting down the message from Prince Erik.
"Mysteriously withdrawn," Lady Morwyn replied with a knowing smile. "It seems that kingdoms facing imminent dimensional collapse are less concerned with royal bloodlines and more interested in practical solutions."
The irony wasn't lost on me. My necromantic abilities, which had been seen as proof of my unfitness to rule, were now the only thing standing between civilization and chaos. Political objections to my marriage had become irrelevant when reality itself was at stake.
"How many kingdoms have formally requested aid?" Kael asked, studying the map from his position beside me. The skull relic I had given him pulsed with soft light, responding to the dimensional instabilities even at this distance.
"All of them," Lord Blackwood answered. "Even the ones that submitted marriage proposals are now sending diplomatic overtures offering favorable trade agreements in exchange for your expertise."
"And our response?"
"That depends," I said, feeling the weight of decision settling over me like a familiar cloak. "Are we dealing with a crisis that threatens all life, or an opportunity to reshape the political landscape of the entire continent?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with implications. I could use this crisis to build the kind of authentic relationships I had spoken about, forging alliances based on mutual need rather than political convenience. Or I could let the dimensional tears spread until desperation forced complete submission to my authority.
"Your Majesty," Master Dorian said carefully, "the magical resonance patterns suggest these tears will continue expanding regardless of political considerations. If left unchecked, they could destabilize the fundamental forces that hold reality together."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that in six months, there might not be kingdoms left to forge alliances with."
The skull relics around my neck grew warm with agreement, their whispered voices confirming what I already knew. This wasn't a political opportunity—it was an existential threat that required immediate action.
"Cancel the wedding preparations," I decided, ignoring Kael's sharp intake of breath. "We're going to spend the next several months traveling across the continent, stabilizing dimensional tears and preventing the collapse of civilization."
"Seraphina," Kael said quietly, "we don't have to cancel—"
"Yes, we do." I turned to face him, letting him see the resolve in my eyes. "I won't exchange vows while reality is unraveling around us. Our marriage will happen when the crisis is resolved, not before."
"And if resolving the crisis takes years?"
"Then we'll wait years." I reached out to touch his face, feeling the familiar spark of connection between us. "I love you enough to marry you properly, not in the middle of a magical catastrophe."
His expression softened with understanding. "You want our wedding to be about us, not about saving the world."
"Exactly." I kissed him gently, pouring reassurance into the contact. "When we exchange vows, I want it to be because we're choosing each other, not because we're the only people left alive."
"Your Majesty," Lord Harwick interrupted carefully, "the logistics of a continental tour to address dimensional tears would be complex. The travel alone would take months, not counting the time needed for each stabilization work."
"Then we'll need to be strategic about our approach." I returned to the map, studying the pattern of dimensional fractures with professional interest. "Master Dorian, can you determine which tears are the most critical? Which ones pose the greatest threat to overall stability?"
"The largest fractures appear to be in the Northern Reach and the Westmarch territories. If those expand much further, they could create a cascade failure that would make stabilization impossible."
"Then we start there." I began marking priority locations on the map. "Kael, how long would it take to assemble a mobile strike team? Light, fast, capable of extended travel?"
"Two days, if we're selective about personnel. A dozen of our best fighters, plus support staff and magical specialists."
"Do it. We leave at the end of the week."
"Your Majesty," Lady Morwyn said hesitantly, "traveling with such a small force would leave you vulnerable. If the High Council decides to pursue military action while you're away from the capital ."
"They'll face Master Dorian and the full garrison of the castle," I replied firmly. "Besides, I suspect they'll be too busy dealing with their own dimensional problems to worry about political maneuvering."
As the council dispersed to handle the logistics of our departure, I remained in the war room with Kael, studying the scope of the crisis that lay ahead. Seventeen-dimensional tears were just the beginning—if my calculations were correct, dozens more would manifest over the coming weeks.
"Are you certain about postponing the wedding?" he asked, moving to stand behind me.
"Are you having doubts about marrying a woman who accidentally broke reality?"
"Never." His arms came around my waist, solid and warm against the chill of responsibility. "But I worry about what this crisis will cost you. The dimensional workings in the Weeping Wood aged you, changed you. Multiplying that across an entire continent ."
"Could kill me," I finished honestly. "Yes, I've considered that possibility."
"And?"
"And I'd rather die trying to fix my mistakes than live with the guilt of letting civilization collapse." I leaned back against his chest, drawing strength from his presence. "Besides, I won't be doing it alone. The skull relic I gave you—it's not just a token of affection. It's a magical anchor that will let you share the burden of the workings."
"You're going to use me as a stabilizing force?"
"I'm going to trust you to keep me grounded while I navigate dimensional chaos," I corrected. "The same way you anchored me in the Weeping Wood."
He was quiet for a long moment, processing the implications. "The corruption in my arm—will it affect the magical connection?"
"It might help. Otherworldly taint gives you experience with forces beyond normal reality. That experience could make you a better anchor than someone with purely mortal magical energy."
"So my greatest weakness becomes a strength?"
"Your greatest weakness has always been your selflessness," I said, turning in his arms to face him. "But in this case, your willingness to share the burden might be what saves us all."
As we kissed, I felt the skull relics pulse with approval, their ancient magic recognizing the power of our connection. The dimensional tears would be dangerous, possibly fatal, but I would face them with the one person I trusted completely at my side.
The Queen of Bones was about to embark on the most dangerous magical working of her life. But she wouldn't be doing it alone—she would have love as her anchor and duty as her guide.
The wedding could wait. The world could not.