Seraphina did not sleep that night.
She sat curled on the edge of her bed, knees drawn tightly to her chest, the marks on her leg hidden beneath silk and shadows. The candle at her bedside flickered as if afraid, casting long fingers of trembling light along the marble walls of her chamber.
She was afraid to close her eyes.
Every time her head tilted forward, the memory of the dream returned. The girl with the vines. The angelic man whose smile was too wide, too calm. The pain. The vines that weren't just dream-things, but real enough to leave marks. Real enough to burn.
She pressed her palms against her face, trying to stop the trembling.
She was a queen. She was supposed to be strong.
But tonight, she was only a girl in a haunted room.
She had planned to meet the High Priestess days ago. That plan had crumbled like everything else. No word had come from the Temple. No answer. The one place that had always offered clarity now sat behind stone walls and silence.
The kingdom's God, Oraviel, had never felt so far away.
"Why won't she see me?" Seraphina whispered to the silence. "Why now, when everything is falling apart?"
She turned toward the small altar tucked into the corner of her chamber. A white stone engraved with Oraviel's symbol—the circle and flame—glowed faintly in the candlelight. It used to give her comfort. In her younger years, before the crown had been forced upon her, she would kneel before it with childlike faith. She would speak, and she believed someone was listening.
Now?
She knelt slowly, the silk of her nightgown pooling around her.
"Great Oraviel," she began, her voice raw. "You are the Light, the Flame, the One God of the Throne. They say you hear all things. That you guide your chosen." Her hands clenched. "Then hear me now."
The silence deepened.
"I don't know what to do," she continued, voice cracking. "My dreams are haunted. The land is dying. The Temple is silent. My people look to me and I don't know what to tell them."
Tears slid down her cheeks.
"I am tired. I am scared. I can't sleep. I'm losing myself. If you're listening, please. Show me what to do. Tell me what this is. Tell me how to stop it."
Nothing.
Just the soft hiss of the candle.
She bowed her head. Her shoulders shook. The tears came harder now, hot and angry. She had ruled with strength for eight long years. But strength had worn her down. Duty had cracked her ribs. And now she felt like a broken shell of the girl who once believed in light.
"Help me," she whispered. "Please, help me."
Then—
A sound.
A breath that wasn't hers.
She lifted her head.
The flame on the candle bent sideways, as though something had passed through it.
Her heart pounded.
And then the voice came.
Soft. Gentle. Male.
"Come to me, and I will give you rest."
Seraphina's blood ran cold.
She turned slowly. The room was still. The door remained closed. The windows shut.
But the voice lingered like incense in the air.
The same words. The same as the dream.
She backed away from the altar, her hands trembling. "No," she whispered. "No, not again."
But a warmth filled the room. It was not threatening. It felt like peace. Like sleep. Like surrender.
"Come to me, and I will give you rest."
"Who are you?" she cried. "Why are you following me? What are you?"
The silence returned.
Seraphina looked down at her leg.
The marks were darker now. As if the voice had touched them, fed them.
She stumbled to her feet and backed against the wall, pressing her palm over her mouth to muffle the sobs.
No answers. No High Priestess. No voice from Oraviel. Only that voice.
The girl had vines.
The man had light.
And both wanted her to come closer.
She was caught between them, sinking into something she didn't understand.
"I just want to be free," she whispered into the shadows. "I just want to be myself again."
No answer came.
Only the wind rustling against the window. Only the quiet beating of her frightened heart.
And far away, the bell of the Temple rang once.
A sound of warning.
Or a summons.