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We need to be prayerful in this world. A lot of evil are happening.

CHAPTER ONE: THE AWAKENING

St. Mary Town was the kind of town people in America called "God-fearing." White picket fences. A single main street. One church — St. Mary Catholic Church — that rang its bell every Sunday morning at 8 AM sharp. Everybody knew everybody's name, everybody's business, and everybody's sins.

If you sneezed on Monday, by Tuesday the whole town would be praying for your cold.

In this town, four women lived very different lives. They didn't know each other well. But they all had one thing in common — something strange was happening to them, and they couldn't explain it.


Maria lived in the oldest house in St. Mary Town, at 14 Old Mill Lane, at the very edge of town near the forest. The house was over 100 years old. Her husband, Joseph, had died 10 years ago, and her two children had moved to New York. She lived alone with her cat, Shadow, and a garden full of strange herbs — rosemary, sage, mugwort, lavender — herbs the townspeople didn't understand.

Maria had known she was different since she was 12 years old.

When she was angry, the wind would blow inside the house even when all windows were closed. When she was sad, candles would light themselves. When someone lied to her, she could feel it burning in her chest.

She was the strongest witch in St. Mary Town, but she had hidden it for 50 years. Because 50 years ago, she watched her own mother get called a witch and chased out of town. She promised herself she would never tell anyone.

But for the past few months, she had been feeling a shift in the air. A power surge. She could feel three other powers waking up in town. Young, confused, untrained. She knew she had to find them before they hurt themselves.


Dr. Kate was the most respected woman in town. She worked at St. Mary General Hospital as a senior doctor. Beautiful, intelligent, kind.
Her strange power started two years ago.

A little boy, 7 years old, was brought into the ER after a car accident. He was bleeding internally. The surgeons said he would not survive. Kate was holding his hand, crying, whispering, "Please don't die, please don't die."

Suddenly, her hands started glowing — a soft blue light. The bleeding stopped. The boy's heartbeat came back strong. The next morning, he was sitting up, asking for ice cream.

Kate was shocked. She thought she imagined it.

But it kept happening.

A woman with stage 4 breast cancer — Kate touched her during checkup and the tumor disappeared the next day. A man with a broken leg healed in 2 hours after Kate placed her hand on it.

She discovered the rule: She could heal anyone, even deadly illnesses, but after every major healing, she would collapse for two days, with fever, nosebleeds, and extreme weakness. Her power was using her own life force to heal others.

She was terrified. If people found out, they would call her a witch. In St. Mary Town, that was a death sentence.


Sandra was the only female officer in the St. Mary Police Department. Tough, short hair, always in uniform, no makeup. Men respected her and feared her because she was smarter than all of them.

Her power started when she was a child, but she only understood it now.

If she touched an object, she could see visions.

She touched a missing child's school bag once and saw a man with a tattoo of a snake on his neck dragging the child into a blue house. She led her team to that exact house. The child was saved.

She touched a gun at a crime scene and saw exactly who fired it, what time, and where he ran.

She could also smell lies. When someone lied, she smelled rotten eggs.

Her colleagues called her "The Human Lie Detector" and "The Best Detective in Ohio." She won awards, but she lived in constant fear. How do you tell your police chief that you see visions when you touch things?


Teenah was the youngest of them all. A full-time housewife. She married Andrew Johnson, a plumber, seven years ago. They loved each other deeply, but they had no children. For seven years, they tried. No child.

Because of this, her mother-in-law, Mama Andrew, tormented her life.

Every morning, Mama Andrew would come to their small house and say, "Barren woman! My son married a barren tree! Give me grandchildren or I will find him a new wife!"

Andrew defended Teenah, but he was getting tired and distant.

Teenah's power was dreams.

Every night, she dreamt — and every dream came true the next day.

She dreamt that her neighbor's gas cooker would explode — the next day it exploded.
She dreamt that her friend's husband was cheating with a red-haired woman — the next day her friend caught him.

At first she thought it was coincidence. Until three months ago, when she dreamt of a plane crash and woke up to see it on the news, exactly as she dreamt.

Her most painful dream was of a little girl in a white dress calling her "Mama," running into her arms. She had that dream every week. A child who never came.


For months, fate kept pushing them together.

First Encounter was at the supermarket.

Teenah was buying tomatoes at Mary's Supermarket when she bumped into an old woman — Maria.

Maria looked into Teenah's eyes for a long time and said, "You dreamt about fire last night, didn't you? And about water?"

Teenah froze. Her basket fell. "How... how did you know? I dreamt my kitchen was on fire and flooded at the same time."

Maria smiled sadly. "Because I dreamt about you. You are not sleeping well, child. The dreams are getting stronger."

Teenah ran out of the store, scared.

Second encounter was at the hospital.

A 9-year-old boy was brought into the ER — hit by a car. Officer Sandra brought him in, sirens blaring. Dr. Kate rushed to him.

"I need space!" Kate shouted, placing her hands on the boy's chest. Her hands glowed blue for just two seconds — but Sandra saw it.

The boy gasped and opened his eyes.

Later, Sandra followed Kate to the locker room.

"What was that light on your hands?" Sandra asked bluntly.

Kate's face went pale. "What light? Are you okay, Officer? You must be tired."

Sandra touched the locker Kate had just touched and saw a vision — Kate at night, healing people in secret. Sandra gasped.

"You... you're like me," Sandra whispered.

Third encounter was at the police station.

Teenah came to the police station to report her mother-in-law for harassment. Officer Sandra was the one who attended to her.

As Teenah was talking, Sandra touched Teenah's hand to calm her down and instantly saw a flash — Teenah dreaming of a little girl getting hit by a trailer.

That same afternoon, Teenah ran back into the station screaming, "My neighbor's daughter! Lily! I saw her! Trailer!"

Sandra followed her. They got to Lily's house just as a white trailer lost control and mounted the sidewalk exactly where Lily always played. Because Teenah had taken Lily inside an hour earlier, Lily was safe.

Sandra stared at Teenah. "You knew it was going to happen. Before it happened."



That night, Maria sat in her old house, meditating. She could feel it — the time had come. The four powers had touched each other. If they didn't come together, they would be exposed and destroyed by the town.

She wrote three identical letters by hand, in old cursive:

> _My dear,_
> _I know what you are. I am what you are. You have been hiding your gift, but you don't have to hide anymore. I have been like you for 50 years._
> _Come to my house tonight. 7 PM. 14 Old Mill Lane. Come alone. Don't tell anyone._
> _We need to talk about who we really are._
> _— Maria S._

She gave the letters to her cat, Shadow, and whispered a spell. Shadow ran out into the night and dropped each letter at the doors of Kate, Sandra, and Teenah.

At 6:55 PM, there was a knock on Maria's door.

Teenah came first, scared, clutching her purse. Then Dr. Kate, in her scrubs, looking exhausted. Then Officer Sandra, in uniform, hand on her gun as if entering a crime scene.

They sat in Maria's living room — a room filled with burning sage, old books, jars of herbs, and four lit candles.

Silence.

Maria looked at each of them and said, "I know you're scared. I was scared too, for 50 years. But we are not cursed. We are witches. And a witch alone is easy to hunt. But four witches together — we are a coven. We are a family. We are unstoppable."

One by one, with tears in their eyes, they confessed.

Kate whispered, "I can heal people with my hands, but it's killing me."

Sandra said, "I see things when I touch objects. I thought I was going mad."

Teenah cried, "I dream everything before it happens. I dreamt you three would be here tonight."

Maria smiled and held out her hands. "Then from tonight, you are not alone. We will meet here every last Saturday of the month. We will share our stories, learn our powers, and protect each other. We will call ourselves... The Witches of St. Mary."

They held hands. As soon as their four hands touched, a wind blew through the closed house. The four candles flared up into four different colors — red for Maria, blue for Kate, gold for Sandra, and white for Teenah.

The coven was born.

Outside, the wind howled. Far away, in another state, an old woman named Mother Helen woke up from sleep, felt the surge of power from St. Mary Town, and smiled an evil smile.

"I found them," she whispered.

Four witches with magical powers living in St.Mary town discovers their magical powers and uses their powers to solve all the evil happening in the town.

Who is reading?

CHAPTER THREE: THE FIRST KINDNESS

Winter in Diana City was brutal.

The city was built high in the Rocky Mountains, 9,000 feet above sea level. In winter, snow fell 10 feet deep. The wind howled through the black marble palace like wolves. The temperature dropped to minus 20 degrees. Even the Valkyrie guards, who were trained to endure pain, wore thick fur coats.

Prince Alfred had never experienced such cold. In the Eastern Empire, winter was mild — a little snow, a little cold, but nothing like this.

He had been in the Western Palace for four months now. Four months of being Princess Naomi's slave-husband. Four months of cooking, cleaning, ironing, tasting her food.

Alfred's secret letters to his father said: "Her time is coming. Two more months."

But Alfred himself was getting tired. He wasn't eating well. He was sleeping in a small cold room next to the kitchen, while Naomi slept in a huge warm room with a fireplace that burned all night. He was working like a servant from 5 AM to midnight every day.

And then, in the second week of December, he collapsed.


It started with a cough. A small cough while he was ironing Naomi's dresses at 5 AM.

Then a fever. His forehead became hot.

Then chills. He was carrying a bucket of water for Naomi's bath and his hands started shaking so badly he dropped the bucket. Water spilled all over the marble floor.

Princess Naomi was sitting at her vanity, getting her hair done by three maidens. She saw him drop the bucket and shouted, "Alfred! You idiot! Look what you did! Clean it up now!"

Alfred tried to bend down to clean it, but his knees gave way. He fell to the floor. He was shivering violently, his teeth chattering, sweat pouring down his face despite the cold.

"Alfred?" Naomi said, her voice changing a little. "Alfred, get up."

He couldn't get up. He tried, but he fell again. His eyes rolled back.

Sarah, the head maiden, touched his forehead and gasped. "Princess! He is burning! He has a very high fever! He is sick!"

For a moment, Princess Naomi just stared at him on the floor. In her entire life, she had been taught that men who get sick are weak and should be left to get strong on their own. Her mother, Queen Diana, had once left a male servant with fever outside in the snow overnight to "make him stronger." The servant died.

The old Naomi would have said, "Drag him to his room and let him suffer. If he dies, he dies. He is just a man."

But something strange happened in that moment. She looked at Alfred — his handsome face pale, his strong body shivering like a child, his lips cracked and dry — and her heart did something it had never done before.

It panicked.

She jumped up from her vanity, her silk robe flying, and shouted louder than anyone had ever heard her shout before.

"CALL THE HEALERS! NOW! CALL ALL THE HEALERS IN THE EMPIRE! CALL THE ROYAL DOCTOR! CALL THE HERBALIST! CALL EVERYONE! NOW!"

The maidens froze. They had never seen Princess Naomi panic.

"What are you standing there for?!" Naomi screamed at them. "He is dying! Move!"

Two male guards picked up Alfred and carried him — not to his small cold room next to the kitchen — but to Princess Naomi's own massive bedroom, to her huge bed with fur blankets.

"Put him here! On my bed!" she ordered.

The guards were shocked. "Princess... this is your royal bed... no man has ever..."

"I SAID PUT HIM ON MY BED!" she screamed, tears already forming in her eyes.

They put him on her bed.

Within 10 minutes, five healers arrived — the best healers in the Western Empire, all women, all old and wise. They checked his pulse, his forehead, his breathing.

"He has mountain fever," the head healer said. "Very dangerous. Common for people not used to our winter. His lungs are filling with fluid. If we don't bring the fever down in 24 hours, he will die."

Princess Naomi grabbed the healer's arm. "Then bring it down! I don't care what you have to do! Use all the medicine in the palace! If he dies, I will have you all executed!"

The healers worked. They gave him bitter herbs, they placed cold cloths on his forehead, they made him drink hot broth.

But Naomi didn't leave. She sent all her maidens away and stayed herself.

For the first time in her life, Princess Naomi nursed a man.

She sat by the bed, on a small stool, holding a bowl of cold water and a cloth. Every 10 minutes, she dipped the cloth and placed it on Alfred's burning forehead. Her hands — hands that had never worked, that had only ever held wine glasses and whips — were now working, caring.

Alfred was delirious. He was muttering in his fever, "Father... Mother... please... it's cold... it's so cold..."

Naomi, without thinking, held his hand. Her soft, small hand holding his large, rough, hot hand.

"I'm here," she whispered, her voice soft, a voice no one had ever heard from her. "You are not alone. I am here."

At midnight, his fever got worse. He started coughing hard, coughing up fluid.

Naomi cried. Real tears. She, Princess Naomi, who had never cried for a man in her life, was crying for her slave-husband.

"Please don't die," she whispered into his ear, while the healers were outside mixing more medicine.

She stayed awake for three days and three nights. She didn't sleep. She didn't eat properly. She barely left the room. Queen Diana came to the door once and said, "Naomi, he is just a man. Let the healers handle him. Come and have dinner."

Naomi said coldly, "Mother, leave me alone please."

Queen Diana was shocked. Her daughter had never spoken to her like that.

On the third night, Alfred's fever finally broke.

He opened his eyes. His vision was blurry. He saw a woman sitting by his bed, asleep on the stool, her head resting on the bed, still holding his hand. Her black hair was messy, her eyes had dark circles, her beautiful dress was wrinkled.

It was Princess Naomi.

He whispered, his voice hoarse and weak, "Naomi?"

She woke up instantly. She looked at him, her eyes red from crying and no sleep.

"You... you are awake," she said, her voice cracking.

Alfred tried to sit up, but he was too weak. "What... what happened?"

"You had mountain fever. You almost died," she said, trying to sound rude again, trying to put her mask back on. "You... you are so weak. So useless. Getting sick like a child."

But her hands were still holding his hand tightly. And there were tears in her eyes.

She called the healers, "He is awake! He is awake!"

The healers came and checked him. "The fever is gone. He will live. But he needs rest for one week. No work. Only broth and warm milk."

Naomi nodded and sent them away.

Then she sat again and, without thinking, started feeding him warm broth with a spoon, like a mother feeds a child.

Alfred looked at her, confused. For four months, she had treated him like a dog. She had made him cook for her, clean for her, taste her food like a slave. And now... she was feeding him?

He whispered, "Thank you."

Naomi's hand froze with the spoon mid-air. She looked away quickly, her cheeks red.

"Don't thank me," she said rudely, her old self trying to come back. "I just didn't want you to die in my house and make my room smell. My bed is expensive. Your corpse would ruin it."

But Alfred saw it. He saw it clearly for the first time.


For the first time since he married her, he felt something other than hate. He felt... warmth. He felt gratitude. He felt a strange beating in his heart that he had not felt before.

"Thank you," he said again, softly.

Naomi didn't answer. She just kept feeding him broth, her hands shaking a little.

After Alfred healed, he observed things changed a little.

Princess Naomi still ordered him around, but she no longer insulted him in front of her maidens.

She moved him out of the small cold room next to the kitchen into a bigger, warmer room down the hall from her bedroom, with its own fireplace.

"You were getting sick because your room was cold," she said rudely when he asked why. "I don't want you to get sick again and make me waste my healers' time. Don't think it's because I care."

And at night, she started calling him to her bedroom — not to cook or clean, but to sleep.

"I... my bed is cold," she would say, looking away. "The fireplace is not enough. You are big. You are warm. Sleep here. On the other side. Don't touch me unless I say so."

So Alfred started sleeping in her massive bed, on the other side, with a pillow wall between them. But sometimes in the middle of the night, he would wake up and find that the pillow wall had fallen and Naomi was curled up close to him, her head on his chest, sleeping peacefully like a child.

And she started allowing him to have sex with her — not just when she felt like it, but when he wanted too. And she was softer, kinder, making soft sounds, holding his hand.

But still, she was harsh in the daytime. Still rude. Still commanding.

"Alfred! My bath water!"

"Alfred! My dresses!"

"Alfred! Taste my food!"


He wrote to his father: "Father, the plan seems to be working. I observed she is getting weaker."

His father wrote back: "Son, thats good news. She is a monster like her mother. Continue the plan. We are almost there."

Alfred read the letter and hid it under his mattress.

That night, he cooked dinner for Naomi — steak and red wine, her favorite. He stood in the kitchen, he then looked at the bedroom where Naomi was humming softly while brushing her hair — a song she never hummed before he got sick.


"Soon," he whispered to himself. "For my people."

CHAPTER TWO: THE SLAVE-HUSBAND

The wedding between Prince Alfred of the East and Princess Naomi of the West was the biggest event in America in 50 years.

It was not held because of love. It was held because of war.

Every king, queen, prince, and princess from all Seven Empires came. The Northern Empire sent its Snow Queen. The Southern Empire sent its King and his three wives. The Central Empire sent its entire council.

But no one came to celebrate. They came to watch a humiliation.

Because everyone knew what this marriage really was: The East surrendering to the West.


The cathedral in Diana City was made of black stone and stained glass that showed only women warriors. It was the largest building in the West.

On the morning of the wedding, the entire city gathered outside, 100,000 people, shouting and throwing black and gold flowers — the colors of the Western Empire.

Inside, 1,000 guests sat in silence.

Princess Naomi was getting ready in her private wing, surrounded by 20 maidens. She wore a dress that shocked everyone — not white, but black and gold, tight at the waist, with a crown of black diamonds. In the Western Empire, white was the color of servants and slaves. Brides wore black to show dominance. White was for the groom who was being taken.

"I don't want to marry him," Naomi told her favorite maiden, Sarah, while looking in the mirror. "He is a man. All men are weak. He will bore me in a week. But Mother says I must, so we can finally own the East. So I will marry him, and I will break him. Like I break all men."

In another room, Prince Alfred was getting ready. He wore a white suit — the traditional color for a Western groom. White meant purity, obedience, submission. It was the color of a man who was leaving his father's house to belong to his wife.

His father, King Brad, stood behind him, helping him with his collar, tears in his eyes.

"My son, remember our plan," King Brad whispered so no one else could hear. "Be patient. Be humble. Let her humiliate you. Let her think you are weak."

Alfred nodded, his jaw tight.

"I understand, Father. I will be her slave. And I will be her death."

King Brad hugged him. "May God forgive us for what we must do to survive."

The bells rang. It was time.

Prince Alfred walked down the aisle first — as was Western tradition for a groom. He was supposed to walk alone, head down, humble. He walked tall, his alpha masculinity filling the room, but his eyes were cold and full of hate. Every woman in the room stared at him — 6'2", handsome, broad shoulders, in white — and whispered, "He is beautiful, but he is a slave now."

Then Princess Naomi walked in.

She didn't walk with her father. In the West, the bride walks alone to show she needs no man. She walked down the aisle slowly, chin up, not smiling at Alfred, not even looking at him. She looked at him like he was a chair she had just bought for her room.

She stood next to him. She was 5'9" in heels, but still shorter than him. She had to look up at him, and she hated that.

The High Priestess of the West, a 70-year-old woman with a shaved head, stood before them.

"This marriage is not about love," the priestess said loudly, so all could hear. "It is about power. It is about peace. It is about the East submitting to the West."

Then she turned to Naomi. "Princess Naomi of the Western Empire, do you take this man as your property, to command, to use, to keep in your house as your husband?"

Naomi said loudly, arrogantly, without looking at Alfred, "I, Princess Naomi, take you, Prince Alfred, as my property."

A murmur went through the Eastern guests. That was not a marriage vow. That was a slavery vow.

Then the priestess turned to Alfred. "Prince Alfred of the Eastern Empire, do you take this woman as your wife, to obey, to serve, to live in her empire and leave your own?"

Alfred clenched his fists behind his back. He wanted to shout, "No!" He wanted to walk out. But he saw his father in the front row, crying.

He said through gritted teeth, "I, Prince Alfred, take you, Princess Naomi, as my wife."

The priestess said, "You are now husband and wife. Prince Alfred, you may now kiss your wife's hand."

Not her lips. Her hand. Because a Western groom does not kiss his bride's lips in public. He kisses her hand to show submission.

Alfred bent down and kissed Naomi's hand. Her skin was soft, cold. She didn't even look at him. She pulled her hand away quickly.

The entire Western crowd cheered, "The East belongs to the West! The East belongs to the West!"

Queen Diana stood up and shouted, "As agreed, Prince Alfred will now leave his father's empire and come live in my palace! He will live with my daughter! This marriage is sealed!"

That night, there was a grand feast. But Alfred was not allowed to sit next to Naomi at the high table. He sat at a lower table with the male servants, while Naomi sat with queens and princesses, laughing loudly and ignoring him.

He watched her laugh, watched her treat him like nothing, and touched the black pouch in his bag under the table.

"Laugh now, Princess," he thought. "Laugh while you can."


The next morning, King Brad and his people left Diana City and went back to the East.

Prince Alfred was left alone.

He was taken to Princess Naomi's wing of the palace — a massive, luxurious wing with 30 rooms, all black and gold, with huge windows overlooking the mountains. It was beautiful, but it was a prison.

A maiden named Sarah — Naomi's head maiden — showed him his room.

"Your room is here, Prince Alfred," she said, pointing to a small room next to the kitchen. "Princess Naomi's bedroom is at the end of the hall. You will sleep here unless Princess Naomi calls you to her bedroom. Those are her orders."

"My room is next to the kitchen?" Alfred asked, insulted. "I am a prince!"

Sarah looked down, uncomfortable. "I am sorry, Prince. But those are Princess Naomi's orders. She said a husband who cooks should sleep near the kitchen."

Alfred understood. The humiliation had begun.

That evening, his first night as a husband, Princess Naomi called him.

He walked to her massive bedroom — a room bigger than his entire palace in the East — where she was sitting on her bed, wearing a silk robe, with two maidens brushing her hair.

She didn't look at him.

"Alfred! Bring my bath water! Now! It's cold!"

Alfred, a prince who had never carried water in his life, who had servants for that, had to go to the bathroom, carry a heavy bucket of hot water, and pour it into her giant bathtub.

"The water is too hot!" she snapped. "Add cold water!"

He added cold water.

"Now wash my back!"

He stood behind her, washing her back, his hands shaking with anger and humiliation. He could see her naked back, beautiful, but his heart was full of hate.

After the bath, she said, "Now cook my dinner. I want steak and wine."

He went to the kitchen and cooked. The Western chefs — all men — looked at him with pity. "We are all the same here, Prince," one old male chef said. "We cook for queens who never say thank you."

He cooked steak and wine and brought it to her bedroom on a silver tray, like a waiter.

She was sitting at her table, filing her nails. Her maidens were giggling in the corner, watching him.

He placed the food down.

She looked at it, then said coldly, "Taste it first. I don't trust you or your father yet. What if you poison me?"

He took a knife, cut a small piece from the side of the steak, and ate it.

"See? It's safe, my princess," he said, bowing his head.

She watched him chew and swallow, then nodded. "Good. Now leave me. I will eat alone. And tomorrow, wake up at 5 AM to iron my dresses."

He left.

Outside her bedroom door, he leaned against the wall and exhaled.

Every day for weeks, it was the same.

Morning: "Alfred! Iron my dresses! You left a wrinkle yesterday, you fool! Is this what they teach princes in the East?"

Afternoon: "Alfred! Cook my lunch! And clean my shoes after!"

Evening: "Alfred! Pour my wine! And taste it first!"

In the presence of her maidens and servants, she was even ruder.

One day, in front of 10 maidens, she said loudly, "Look at him! He is supposed to be a prince! He can't even fold my clothes properly! Men! All men are useless! My mother was right! The only thing men are good for is war and carrying heavy things!"

The maidens laughed. Alfred stood there, head down, obedient, but inside, his fists were clenched so tight his nails cut into his palms.

He continued playing along to her rules.

Weeks passed. Then months.

His father sent secret letters through a beggar boy who came to the palace gates: "Hows the plan going? Is it working?"

Alfred wrote back: "Not yet. We need to be more patient."

He was becoming a perfect actor.

CHAPTER ONE: THE WAR QUEEN

This was not the America you learn about in history books.

This was America 150 years earlier than it should have been — an America where there were no United States, no President, no Congress. Instead, the entire continent was divided into Seven Empires, each ruled like ancient kingdoms.

And the most powerful of them all was the Western Empire.

The Western Empire stretched from what we now call California to Colorado. Its capital was Diana City — a city built entirely of black marble and gold, sitting high in the Rocky Mountains, surrounded by walls 100 feet tall. No man had ever conquered it. No army had ever breached it.

Because the Western Empire had one rule that made it invincible: *It was ruled only by women.*

For 300 years, only Queens had sat on the throne. Their armies were all women — tall, muscular, beautiful women called the Valkyries, who shaved their heads on one side, wore black armor, and fought with swords and guns at the same time. They were merciless. They were undefeated.

And their current Queen was the most feared of them all.


Queen Diana was not just a queen. She was a legend.

Six feet tall, with silver-blonde hair that fell to her waist, ice-blue eyes, and a body that still looked 30 even at 52. She wore a black crown made of melted-down swords from all the empires she had defeated.

She believed one thing with all her heart: Women are superior. Men are weak, emotional, easily controlled, and are only useful for two things — making war and making children.

Under her rule, men in the Western Empire were not allowed to own property. They were not allowed to be generals. They were soldiers, guards, servants, and nothing more. She had built a perfect empire for women, and she wanted to extend it to the entire continent.

"I will take possession of all the entire empires," she told her council one night, standing in front of a giant map of America. "From the Eastern ocean to the Western ocean, there will be only one empire. My empire. Ruled by women."

Her council of 12 female generals banged their fists on the table and shouted, "For Queen Diana! For the Western Empire!"

To achieve this, Queen Diana started a war.

She didn't send letters. She sent bombs.

Modern bombs — huge, black, steel bombs dropped from hot air balloons — that destroyed entire cities in the Eastern Empire overnight.

The Eastern Empire was ruled by men.


The Eastern Empire stretched from what we now call New York to Georgia. Its capital was Bradstone — a warm, green city full of farms, churches, and hardworking people. Unlike the Western Empire, it was ruled by kings.


King Brad was the opposite of Queen Diana. He was kind, old, with a grey beard and tired eyes. He believed men and women should be equal. He believed in peace, in farming, in prayer. He didn't want war. He wanted to trade corn and build schools.

But his empire was old. His army was small. His soldiers fought with old rifles and on horseback, while Queen Diana's Valkyries fought with machine guns and cannons.

For three years, King Brad tried to fight back. He sent his soldiers. They all died.

Queen Diana's bombs kept falling. One night, a bomb fell on the city of Charlotte in the Eastern Empire and killed 3,000 people — women and children.

King Brad stood in the ruins of Charlotte, holding a dead child in his arms, and wept.

"I cannot win this war," he whispered to his general. "If this continues, my entire people will be wiped out. I have to beg for peace. Even if it costs me my pride as a king."

That night, he wrote a letter. The most humiliating letter a king has ever written.

> _To Her Majesty, Queen Diana of the Western Empire,_
> _I, King Brad of the Eastern Empire, beg you. Please stop this war. You are stronger than us. You are winning. But my people are dying. My children are dying. I beg for peace. Let us meet and negotiate like civilized rulers. I will give you gold, land, whatever you want, but stop the bombing._
> _Your humble servant,_
> _King Brad, King of the East._

He sealed it with his royal seal and gave it to his fastest messenger — a young boy on the fastest horse — with a white flag.

"Ride to Diana City. Don't stop. Give this to Queen Diana herself."


The messenger arrived after 10 days of riding, exhausted, dirty, starving.

He was stopped at the gates by 50 Valkyrie guards with spears.

"I have a letter for Queen Diana from King Brad! A peace letter!"

The guards laughed. "A man begging? Bring him in. The Queen will love this."

He was dragged into the throne room — a massive room made of black marble, with 100 female guards standing on both sides, holding swords.

At the end of the room, on a throne made of gold and black diamonds, sat Queen Diana.

Next to her, on a smaller throne, sat her only daughter.


If Queen Diana was cruel, Princess Naomi was crueler.

Princess Naomi was beautiful — long black hair, green eyes, skin like snow, a body that every man in the five empires dreamed of. But her beauty was poison.

She was raised by Queen Diana to hate men. From the age of 10, she was taught to whip male servants. At 15, she was taught to command armies of men and make them kneel. At 20, she had her first male lover — a prince from the Southern Empire — and she made him crawl on his knees to kiss her feet in front of the entire court. Then she dumped him.

She never believed in love. Just like her mother, she believed marriage was a way to enslave a man and laugh at his alpha masculinity. She had rejected 20 princes because she said, "They are too weak to be my husband. They cry too much."

She was rude, arrogant, spoiled, and proud. And she was the heir to the most powerful empire in America.

The messenger knelt and held up the letter.

Queen Diana took it, read it, and laughed. A loud, mocking laugh that echoed in the throne room.

"Listen to this, Naomi! A King is begging! A man is begging a woman for mercy! Read it!"

She threw the letter to Naomi. Naomi read it and also laughed.

"How pathetic," Naomi said, rolling her eyes. "Men are so weak. He should just kneel and let us take his empire."

Queen Diana stood up. Her black dress dragged on the floor.

"Bring me paper and ink," she ordered. "I will give him peace. But peace has a price. And I know exactly what price will humiliate him the most."

She wrote back:

> _King Brad,_
> _I have received your begging letter. I will stop the war. I will stop the bombing. On one condition._
> _You have two sons. I want your eldest son, Prince Alfred, to marry my daughter, Princess Naomi. He will leave your empire, renounce his title as heir to the East, and come live in my empire as my daughter's husband. He will live in her wing, serve her, and be hers. He will be a Western husband._
> _If you accept, we have peace. If you refuse, I will burn your capital Bradstone to the ground next week._
> _Decide._
> _Queen Diana._

She sealed it and threw it to the messenger. "Take this back to your little king. And tell him he has three days."

The messenger rode back, terrified.


When King Brad read Queen Diana's reply, he screamed so loud the entire palace shook.

"WHAT?! She wants my son to go and live in her palace like a woman?! Like a bride?! Why should a woman marry a man and take him to her house? It should be the other way around! A woman should come to a man's house! This is an insult to all men! This is an insult to my bloodline!"

His council was also furious.

General Marcus slammed his fist. "Your Majesty, we cannot accept! Our prince cannot be a slave to that rude girl! Princess Naomi is known everywhere! She is a monster! She beats men! She humiliates them!"

Prince Alfred's mother, Queen Lisa, cried, "My son will not be a slave in another empire!"

But then — three days later — a bomb fell on the second largest city in the Eastern Empire, killing 5,000 people in one night. The smoke could be seen from Bradstone.

King Brad fell to his knees in his throne room.

"My people are dying," he whispered. "My pride means nothing if my people are dead."

He called for his eldest son.

Prince Alfred entered the throne room. He was everything a prince should be — 6'2", broad shoulders, sharp jaw, deep voice, trained since age 5 in sword fighting, horse riding, and war strategy. He had the pride and alpha masculinity of a king. Women fainted when he walked by. Men respected him.

He had heard about the offer.

"Father, I will not marry her!" he said immediately, before his father could even speak. "I have heard stories about Princess Naomi! She is rude! She is arrogant! She never believed in love, just like her mother! She and her mother are used to making fun of men and treating them like slaves! For them, marriage is a way to enslave men and treat them like nothing, only to laugh at them and their masculinity! I would rather die in battle than be her husband!"

King Brad hugged his son.

"My son, I know. I know she is cruel. But if you don't do this, our entire empire will be wiped out in a month. You are not just my son. You are the future king. And a king must sacrifice his own happiness for his people."

For seven days, the palace pressured Alfred. His mother cried. His younger brother begged him. The priests prayed. The people gathered outside the palace chanting, "Save us, Prince Alfred! Save us!"

Finally, on the seventh night, Alfred knelt before his father and said, "I will do it. I will marry Princess Naomi. For my people."

King Brad wept and hugged him.

But then Alfred whispered something only his father could hear.

"But Father, I have a plan. A secret trap. I will not just be her husband. I will be her end."

King Brad looked at his son, shocked, then slowly nodded. "May God forgive us."

In war-torn America, Queen Diana demands King Brad's son, Prince Alfred, marry her cruel daughter Naomi for peace. Alfred agrees to the marriage but with a secret mission. Will this war between these two empires ever come to an end?

This

TheStoriesOfMan:
Continue

ok o

Admin no forget this great book too. Biko

pigmania:
Was Mirabel really saying "I want to live, or I want to leave"?

Live. You know girls feel they are not living when they are with broke men. You get it?

Ada the mad woman deserves front page too

Admin abeg remember "Ada the mad woman" that booK is very good

I brought this literature section back to Life

LordLicifer:
I don't believe it, i never came across any spirit or disturbed by any spirit, we counted many bodies at the time at some point it became like a normal thing to us which it should be.

Dead people don't bite.

this link https://trustradio.com.ng/en/inside-eerie-daring-experiences-of-mortuary-attendants

LordLicifer:
Maybe Daniel has other mental instability issues. Guilt can also make people see things that are not there

he was taken to the hospital and still it didn't heal. Believe me these things happen. Read that link i semt you. A true life story in that link

LordLicifer:
Why in dream? Why not at my work place physically?

dream is another medium spirits can enter to deliver a message across to you. You don't understand spiritual things. Lol, i learnt a lot.

LordLicifer:
Again, spirits is what i don't believe in, witches? i don't know, never met any witch, native doctors? What exactly do they do?

they are just spiritually gifted people. Just like some people born with 6 fingers. Anyways you read in that story. Barry worked there for years and never had any spirit encounter. Daniel was the only one who the spirit were appearing to because he had the gift. Bottom line: They don't appear to just anyone.

Mostly appear in your dreams

LordLicifer:
I don't believe there is anything like a third eye.


Maybe you should explain, if it is not simple then it doesn't exist

do you know some people have the gift to travel to spiritual realm?. Some are half human. Half spirit living in this world.

LordLicifer:
I don't believe there is anything like a third eye.


Maybe you should explain, if it is not simple then it doesn't exist

its a gift spiritual people are born with. Like all those witches and native doctors.

LordLicifer:
I don't believe it, i never came across any spirit or disturbed by any spirit, we counted hundreds of bodies at some point it became like a normal thing to us which it should be.

you don't have the third eye gift thats why

I hope Ada the Mad woman makes it to front page.