My Daughter-in-Law Stole My Face With the Eclipse Mirror and Made Me Serve Her Feast — Now the Mirror Is Screaming My Name
The Grand Assembly Hall hummed with low conversation. It was a formal gathering, ostensibly to review the season’s harvest reports, but an undercurrent of tension vibrated in the air. High Steward Kincaid sat at the head table, looking perpetually unwell, his gaze darting to the Elder Council members arrayed before him.
Seraphina, despite her heavy cosmetics, appeared drawn and impatient. Julian stood beside her, his face a mask of anxious placidity.
Suddenly, Corinne stepped forward from the ranks of palace staff. She wore her simple artisan’s uniform, her hands clasped tightly before her. A hush fell over the room.
Kincaid’s eyes widened in alarm. Seraphina’s lips thinned.
“Your Radiance,” Corinne’s voice, though quiet, carried clearly. “Members of the Esteemed Council.”
“What is the meaning of this, artisan?” Seraphina snapped, her voice sharp. “Return to your duties.”
Corinne took a deep breath. She pulled a scroll of parchment from her uniform pocket. It was a perfect copy of Clause 8, Section 4 of the Covenant Charter, which she had transcribed from memory.
“I have uncovered a forgotten clause within the Original Covenant Charter of the Celestial Delacroix Line,” she announced, her voice gaining strength.
A murmur rippled through the hall. Kincaid stood abruptly, knocking over his chalice. Water spilled across the polished table.
“This is an outrage!” Seraphina cried, rising from her seat. “This maid has no authority to speak of such things!”
But the Elder Council, particularly the eldest, Dame Eliza, held up a gnarled hand, silencing Seraphina. Dame Eliza’s gaze was fixed on Corinne, a flicker of ancient memory in her eyes.
Corinne unfurled the parchment. Her eyes met Seraphina’s, then Julian’s, then finally Kincaid’s, who looked utterly defeated.
“Clause 8, Section 4 reads,” Corinne began, her voice steady and clear, “‘Any forced transference of a divine matriarch’s visage, achieved through arcane means, shall be considered null and void upon the passage of the 1,000th lunar cycle from the date of the covenant’s establishment, unless freely returned.'”
A gasp erupted from the assembled staff. The Elder Council members exchanged horrified glances.
“The 1,000th lunar cycle,” Corinne concluded, “falls upon the upcoming Solstice. This effectively revokes Seraphina Montgomery-Delacroix’s right to hold ancestral estate assets obtained through such means.”
Seraphina stared, her mouth open, no sound emerging. Her face, already decaying, seemed to crack further under the sudden public scrutiny. Julian, pale and trembling, took a step back from her.
The Elder Council began to murmur, their voices rising in an agitated chorus. The legal charter had spoken. Seraphina’s rule, built on stolen power, had just legally crumbled.
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