The wind howled across the silver cliffs of Lunareth, tearing through the towers of House Vaelthorne like a wounded beast. The moon sat low in the sky, veiled in crimson clouds. Beneath its bleeding gaze, a girl stood alone on the palace balcony, her hands clenched against the cold stone.
Seraphira Vaelthorne, firstborn daughter of King Thareon and Queen Elidra, once heir to the most powerful throne in the known realms, had not been called "princess" in years.
The court called her cursed. The servants called her a shadow. Her family, when they dared speak to her at all, called her dangerous.
And she had given up correcting them.
Her reflection flickered in the window beside her, long black hair tangled in the wind, violet eyes glowing faintly, and the faint shimmer of shifting magic just beneath her skin. A magic no one had seen awakened, not truly. Not since the night the fire first came.
She had been eight when it happened, when the fire burst from her veins and turned the throne room to ash. No one knew what triggered it. A spell gone wrong? A prophecy stirring? Or something older, darker, and bound in blood?
Whatever it was, it had left her with a curse.
"She shall burn what she loves, and love what she cannot touch."
The prophecy, whispered by the witches of Thamorra, echoed through her every breath. Since then, her father had hidden her away, stripping her of title, dignity, and heirship. Her chambers, though royal in size, had become a prison gilded in shame.
A sudden knock at her door broke the silence.
"Princess." The voice was soft, hesitant.
Only one person still called her that.
"Come in, Rynn," she said, not turning.
The door creaked open. Rynn entered, clutching a cloak of grey wool and eyes full of worry. He was no knight, no noble just a stable hand who had once dared to speak kindly to her when others spat. In the years since, he'd become her only friend.
"Word from the east," he whispered. "Velmaria's sent an envoy. And your brother is to wed their princess."
Seraphira's lips curled bitterly. "Of course. Alliance by marriage. Father's favorite solution."
"There's more," Rynn continued, lowering his voice. "They say the veil is thinning."
That made her turn.
"The veil?"
He nodded. "The one between our world and... the Underworld. Shadows have been seen in the woods. People disappearing. Whispers of demons."
A chill ran down her spine. Not from fear but recognition.
For nights now, Seraphira had dreamed of fire not her own. Of eyes like molten gold. Of a voice in the dark calling her name.
"Rynn," she whispered. "Something is coming. Something old. I can feel it waking inside me."
He looked at her, not as a cursed thing, but as a girl standing at the edge of something vast and terrible.
And in that moment, the moon overhead vanished behind the clouds casting the kingdom into deep shadow.
Far below, in the depthless halls of the Underworld, a king stirred.
And he had felt her, too.