There were many things Princess Selene excelled at: sneaking lemon pastries before supper, charming her way out of lessons, and disappearing from the palace guards with uncanny precision. But when it came to magic, her talent was matched only by her refusal to use it.
Not because she couldn't.
Because she was afraid of what might happen if she did.
Mara had tried gods knew she had tried to coax her into daily training.
"Just ten minutes of aura reading," the maid would plead, practically dragging her through the enchanted wing of the palace.
Selene would yawn dramatically. "I'm allergic to effort."
"You are the only princess in history who fails magic class on purpose!"
"I'm building character. The world needs chaotic neutral monarchs too."
That morning was no different.
Selene sat on a cushion in the practice chamber, staring at a crystal orb that was supposed to glow if she focused her energy correctly. It had remained dim for three years. Mara was pacing like a stormcloud in a skirt.
"Focus," the maid snapped. "Close your eyes. Breathe."
Selene sighed, exaggerating the exhale. "Mara. I am focusing. I'm just not focusing on that rock."
"Crystal."
"Same difference."
"You moved a bookshelf last month without touching it."
"It fell."
"It floated before it fell."
"…Well. Gravity works in mysterious ways."
Mara groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You are impossible."
"And yet still beloved," Selene sang, flopping backwards onto the rug. "Let's skip to lunch. That part of my royal duties I never fail."
The truth was, she had no idea how to explain what she felt whenever she got too close to real magic. It wasn't a flicker. It was a surge a roaring, ancient thing inside her that didn't feel like hers at all.
When it stirred, she heard voices. Echoes.
A language she didn't know how to speak.
A world she couldn't remember living in.
It scared her more than she could admit.
So she hid it.
With jokes. With charm. With laziness.
But fear, she was beginning to learn, had a way of burning through even the best excuses.
Later that afternoon, after narrowly escaping another round of spellwork by faking a twisted ankle (Mara had rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't fall out), Selene wandered down to the palace gardens. Alone.
The sky was golden with late sun. Roses bloomed in spirals of unnatural colors blues and silvers and the occasional gold. Aetherran gardens were partially enchanted, so flowers never wilted unless asked politely. Selene liked that. They were stubborn. Like her.
She crouched by the silver pond near the willows, brushing her fingers along the surface.
Her reflection rippled.
For a moment, it wasn't her face staring back.
It was hers.
The other one.
The woman in the dreams the one with black eyes like eclipse shadows and a crown of flame. The one who bled fire and love and ruin.
Selene yanked her hand back with a gasp.
The pond exploded.
Water rose like a wave, suspended midair, shimmering and spinning in a spiral above her head. Fish darted through it, frozen in time.
She backed away. "No. No no no stop."
The wave fell. The pond stilled. The fish plopped back into place like nothing had happened.
The only sign of what she'd done was the soaking wet hem of her dress.
And the figure watching her from the upper balcony.
She turned, slowly, heart pounding.
A tall man stood behind the marble railing, cloaked in grey. Not a courtier. Not a guard. His eyes were dark, unreadable.
She blinked.
And he was gone.
That night, her father summoned her for tea in the solar a quiet, private room with high windows and golden drapes. He poured her a cup himself, smiling gently.
"You're troubled," he said.
"I'm always troubled," she replied. "It's part of my charm."
"You know what I mean."
Selene looked down at her tea. "What if I told you… I saw something strange today? Not dangerous. Just strange."
The king's fingers tightened slightly on his cup.
"What kind of strange?"
She hesitated. Then lied. "A flower sang to me."
He blinked, then laughed. "Magic has always liked you."
Selene forced a smile.
He didn't press further. But he watched her with the eyes of a man who knew more than he let on. And in that moment, Selene wasn't sure what frightened her more: the truth he might be hiding…
…or the one waking inside her.
Far away beyond storm and sea, in the hidden kingdom where immortals walked cloaked in silence Caelum stood on the edge of a dark tower, staring into nothing.
The High Seer approached behind him, voice low and uncertain.
"The veil thins."
Caelum's eyes didn't shift. "I know."
"You've felt it, then."
"Something stirs," he said. "Old and familiar. Like a name I once knew but cannot say."
The Seer bowed. "Then the cycle begins again."
Caelum turned, finally, and looked at the stars.
And for the first time in a hundred years…
he dreamed.
Back in her bedchamber, Selene curled beneath her sheets, whispering into the dark:
"Who am I really?"
The fire answered, in dreams only.
Not with words.
But with a name.
A name the world had buried.
A name made of flame and death and love.
But not yet.
Not tonight.