/-Kaelynn's pov-/
No one remembered the last time a bird landed on the spires of Veldera.
Veldera stood tall with cold towers and stone gargoyles, built to touch the Creator—but underneath, it groaned.
They called it the Last Great City, the Heart of the Veil, the Crown of the Creator built on holy ground.
I didn't know who started that lie, but it was one they loved to repeat in Castle Court—especially when the nobles wanted to feel important.
I had lived in Veldera all my life, and if there was anything I'd learned, it was this:
Veldera wasn't built on holy ground. It was built on bones. Cracked skulls. Dried veins and forgotten names. It was just a dying kingdom pretending it wasn't already rotting from the inside out.
I was born on the night of the Blood Eclipse—the same night the Veil cracked for the second time in a century. The first time since my grandfather, King Alias, sacrificed his firstborn daughter to the Creator.
The midwives, sent by the Pale Lady, ordered Queen Isolde to bury me before dawn. She said I would bring ruin to the realm.
But Queen Isolde didn't obey. Instead, she killed every last one of them to buy their silence, assigned three courtiers to raise me in secret, and told the court I was dead.
Locked away for twenty-three years, the only escape I ever knew was gravity.
Blood splattered. Skull opened. Vultures ready to feast.
Yet that fateful day… I woke to the sound of my door creaking open.
"...Princess, the King is dead."
At first, I thought I was dreaming. I stared at the window, expecting their voices to fade.
But they didn't.
The words just hung there in the air, and that was when I turned.
Evangra. Nephroma. Syrr.
The three of them always stood together like they shared one spine. They were Queen Isolde's chosen, and trusted courtiers assigned to me the day I was born. More eyes and ears than caretakers.
Their job wasn't to care for me. It was to watch me. To report anything unusual.
Which, in my case, meant everything.
They were always dressed in deep grey, always carried the scent of burnt incense, and always spoke like they were rehearsing for a sermon.
"Did you hear us?" they asked in unison.
"Yes," I said, pushing myself up slowly. "I heard you."
My fingers started twitching. I looked down at the bruises on my hands. Some had faded into a sickly yellow-green, but others were still fresh. Without thinking, I dug my nails into the fresh scab around my knuckles. It tore easily, with blood just beneath the surface.
I kept peeling.
It hurt, but at least it gave me something to focus on.
My eyes watered. I hadn't planned for that. No. I hadn't wanted him to die. But the more I thought about it, the more the tears streamed down my cheeks.
I was never a pretty crier.
The women just stood there like statues, watching me bawl ugly and loud. The kind of crying I hadn't done since I was a child.
Snot trailed down my nose, right into my mouth, and I licked it all in.
Nephroma let out a sigh. "She needs to be made ready."
"For the First Recognition and Memorial," Evangra added without looking at me.
"Evangra, it's your turn to tend to her. You know what to do," Syrr said flatly.
I blinked through my tears. "Wait… what? Why would I be part of that?"
Did they forget I was supposed to be dead to the world?
Syrr's voice tightened. "It's tradition."
"And Queen Isolde permits it," Nephroma added with a stiff nod.
Immediately, the temperature in the room dropped colder than usual.
No, no, no… It wasn't just the wind slipping through the thin walls of my bedroom. It was just the mention of my mother that made my whole body tense.
I could see her cold blue eyes and thin mouth in my mind. I hadn't seen her in years, but somehow she still made every decision for me.
I glanced down at my wounds.
My tears came back, stronger this time. I hated that I was crying in front of them, but I couldn't stop. I hated that they were the ones telling me this, and not the Queen herself.
Not any of my brothers.
"Such noise for a king who gave her nothing," Evangra muttered under her breath.
"Is it grief? Or performance?" Syrr whispered. "Hard to tell with cursed children."
"She mourns louder than widows," Nephroma said as they stepped toward the door, done with me. "Yet salt cannot clean a wound that was never loved to begin with."
I heard every word.
"If the crown favored her, she wouldn't be crippled and tucked away to die in this wing..."
The tears poured, soaking the sleeves of my dress, until they left me alone again. And once the door shut behind them... the tears dried.
My only regret was that I didn't kill the king myself.
My mind flashed back…
"Kaelyn, I'll be gentle. I promise."
"Father, what are you doing?"
"I'm just trying to check your legs. Is it painful?"
But he wasn't checking my legs.
"Father… you're not touching my legs."
I had tried to pull away, dragging my useless body across the cold floor, away from his thick, calloused hands. I couldn't feel my legs—those had long stopped responding, but I could feel where his fingers actually were.
I winced as pain stabbed my slit. "Please… stop."
"I promise, I'll be gentle…"
He always said that. Every single time.
But he wasn't.
My lips curled. Part frozen. Part amused. The fact that his death was what finally reminded my mother I still existed made me want to laugh.
I snorted through the tears. What would it be today? Beating, scrubbing, or…silence?
Queen Isolde always kept me away from Castle Court for a reason.
Was I her weapon there?
No. That was ridiculous.
Suddenly, a cold realization seized every vein in my body. The king's unnatural death meant one thing: the Veil will tear. And as the firstborn daughter of the royal family, I knew my fate.
I was to be sacrificed today.