The whole palace had been dressed in gold.
Silk banners draped from every balcony, and garlands of wildflowers wound their way around the marble pillars. The scent of honey cakes and burning frankincense drifted through the corridors, carried by the soft hum of music and laughter. At last, the day had come—
the day I would turn twenty-two.
It was only hours until the celebration began, and once again everyone was happy.
I walked quietly down the hall in my blue silk nightdress, bare feet brushing against the cold tiles. Through the archway, I could see the courtyard alive with motion, servants rushing past with ribbons in their hair, the blacksmith's apprentices polishing the guards' armor until it gleamed like sunlight, and children running around barefoot between the fountains, their giggles echoing exictedly through the morning air.
Even the bells of the Cathedral sounded softer today, as if the heavens themselves were humming with peace.
Every birthday of mine had been a Big event for the kingdom, always celebrated with open gates—
a day when all were welcome to feast beside the royal household.
But this one… this was different.
This birthday marked the beginning of a new dawn.
The Feast of Dawn, that's what we call it. A sacred day held once in honor of the Divine Heir on their twenty second birthday,
The Divine heir was know as the chosen protector of the land. The last chosen one was my ancestor, Queen Aurora, nearly two hundred years ago. Just Like me, she had been born beneath a blood-red moon, marked by prophecy to protect the Holy relics and stand as the light against the darkness that crawled out from the depths of hell. Every Twenty second birthday of a Divine heir, we are ordained the Crown princess of the kingdom.
And today… today was my turn.
My birthday was not just a celebration—it was a coronation.
By tradition, crowning the God-sent heiress sealed the kingdom's divine protection, a ward against the shadows that once devoured the earth. Just as Queen Aurora and the rest of my ancestor's light had saved mankind, so too was I meant to bear that same flame.
Or so they say.
---
They tell the story often, how, long before the three kingdoms existed, the land was little more than a wasteland torn apart by war, it was a land where people seek refugee during the end less war, But then, Demons roamed freely, feasting on the souls of men. Humanity's last refuge was the great Cathedral that rose from the ashes, a tall Cathedral in the middle of the land, guarded by the twelve holy knights known as the Order of twelve___The Sanctum Knight.
Beside them fought three sisters, Who lived in the Cathedral, long before the war began, long before the land was populated with refugee, long when the land was only know as waste land.
They were, Aurelen, Seliah, and Veyra, they were born by the same mother on the same day, known
daughters of the holy bloodline, the "daughters of Abraham," as the priests call them.
Each possessed a divine gift:
Aurelen, my ancestor, wielded the Gift of Purity__a cleansing power strong enough to drive out corruption from body and soul.
Seliah bore the Gift of healing,
and Veyra carried the Gift of unmactched strength
Together, they healed the sick, feed the starving, defended the weak, and stood against the armies of hell. Yet even saints are not spared from sacrifice. When the demons at last broke through the veil and poisoned the land, Aurelen gave her life—spilling her blood upon the soil to seal the darkness away forever. Her sisters followed soon after, healing the land and restoring balance.
And so the land was cleansed.
No demon dared cross the borders again.
The earth grew fertile, the sick were healed, and even the Great Plague that swept the neighboring lands never touched our soil.
From that sanctified ground rose three kingdoms, House of Aurelen, House of Seliah, and House of Verya__ each built upon the legacy of the sisters and ruled by their descendants.
But peace is a fragile thing.
Centuries later, the sisters' essence began to fade. Evil returned—first as sickness, then as famine, then as war. The desperate people turned once more to prayer, but their devotion twisted into obsession. They began building altars to the sisters, worshipping them instead of the Creator.
The Church called it blasphemy.
Civil war followed. Blood was shed once more on the Holy land. And it was then, amid the chaos, that a new prophecy came to the Cathedral:
"Three will rise again in flesh,
to bear the light of the sisters reborn."
Each kingdom was commanded to unearth the relics of its matron sister—to guard them until the chosen heir was born. And so, the cycle began anew., the one Who they reincarnated looked like them, Aurelen's Red hair, Veyra Ash_gray hair and Seliah's was bald, So...My Cousin Berevreth...Doesn't have a hair
Each generation, a prophecy would announce the birth of one of their reincarnations—a Divine Heir, destined to protect the land once again.
My own birth was heralded a year before I took my first breath.
For two centuries, no chosen one had appeared.
So when the priests declared that Aurelen's spirit would be born again, my kingdom rejoiced.
They built new temples.
They sang hymns in my name before I was even born.
They called me the Child of Dawn.
It's a tale every child here knows by heart.
Every wall in the palace whispers it.
Every prayer, every smile, every glance I receive… is laced with expectation.
But Then…
do I believe the stories?
No.
I'm afraid I don't.
I've never seen a demon.
I've never cast light or healed a wound.
They say this land is free of illness, yet my maid Victoria suffers from ulcers that even the royal physicians cannot cure. And as for me—
I've failed every test the priests have put me through. No miracle, no light, nothing divine. Just red hair.
And Oh, by the way, my maid Victoria's hair shines the same strawberry hue when the sun hits it right.
Father Martins and the catechists will, no doubt, try again today,
another round of chants, prayers and Test, hoping for a spark that will never come. I wish they'd stop, i really do
Because deep down…
I know i can not give them what they want, because i don't have it, its either they were wrong about me or the whole tale of my ancestor's is just a made up stories.
---
I started walking down the grand staircase, sighing im distress, when I caught sight of my governess—Lady Mirelda, her posture sharp enough to catch all attention in the room.
The moment our eyes met, I froze.
Then turned.
Then ran.
"Your Highness! Princess Elowen!" she called, half-running after me yet, trying to Keep her graceful posture while doing it
"You shouldn't be out dressed like that!"
But before she could reach me, I darted into my chambers and slammed the door shut, pressing my back against it as my heart pounded, the last thing i want right now, is my father hearing about this and giving me a whole day lecture's on how to be a princess.
So much for a quiet morning.
---
Father had promised that this year's celebration would be grander than ever.
"The people need hope," he had said when I teased him about overdoing it.
I didn't argue.
Truthfully, I had actually looked forward to it
not for the gifts or the feasts, but because once it was over, everyone would finally see what I had known all along, that their faith was misplaced. That I was no chosen savior.
And after today… perhaps I would finally be free.
Standing by the tall window of my chamber, I looked out over the world I had known all my life. Beyond the castle gates, I could see the bustle of the outer square, the baker's smoke curling into the pale morning sky, the chatter of merchants, the distant shimmer of flags rising over the city walls.
Below, in the courtyard, the knights were rehearsing their ceremonial march. The rhythmic clatter of armor echoed faintly up to my window. I caught sight of Sir Edwin
my personal guard, barking orders at a few younger knights who clearly hadn't practiced enough. His voice carried through the air like thunder, as one of the squires tripped over his own boots. I almost laughed.
Everything seemed so perfect.
If only I had known that peace had less than a day…
I would have cherished it more.
That morning, my lady-in-waiting, Celine, helped me choose my gown for the evening procession. It was pale blue silk with threads of gold embroidery — a gift from the cathedral, she said. The cathedral had ever been the heart of our faith, the place that blessed every ruler of the three kingdoms.
By noon, the streets were overflowing with people. Musicians played lutes and flutes, jugglers tossed bright fruits in the air, and the scent of roasted almonds made my stomach twist with hunger. Children waved little flags painted with our family crest__ a silver hawk clutching a sun.
Amidst all this joy, an unease crept into my chest. I could not name it, yet it stirred deep,
Then, for but a moment, the sky dimmed, far too soon for sunset.
My heart gave a strange flutter, as though the very air had shifted.
That was the first sign.
But none of us understood it then.
---
In the Knight's War Chamber
At the head of the round table stood King Maeric, ruler of Aurelen, his expression stern. Around him gathered his finest knights, and with them, Father Martins __the Priest, and Brother Kaius, the cathedral's young catechist.
A great map sprawled before them, weighted by goblets and daggers, as voices clashed like steel.
"Send enough knights to the border village," said the king, striking the table with a firm hand. "It is time we put an end to these Viking raids."
His jaw tightened, anger slowly rising beneath his composed tone. "On the day of the Feast of Dawn, no less, such insolence." He said in spite
Before another word could be uttered, a knight burst through the doors, breathless. He composed at the sight of the me in the room, with a bow he said
"Your Majesty, a message, from the Houses of Verya and Seliah." He drew two folded parchments from his cloak and handed them to the king.
King Maeric broke the seals swiftly. His brows knit as his eyes scanned the letters.
"The Houses are under attack," he said gravely.
A tense silence aroused in the chamber.
There had been no conflict in years, not since the last tragedy… the night Queen Lyra, his beloved, was slain before her young daughter's eyes.
"Send two hundred knights to each of the houses, and double their numbers with footmen. I want the princesses brought here safely."
Maeric commanded, his voice cutting through the stillness. The knight-captain bowed deeply.
Brother Kaius spoke next, calm but firm. "Your Majesty, sending so many away will leave the castle exposed. Should the enemy turn its eye here, we will stand near defenceless."
"If the Houses fall, ours shall follow," king Maeric replied. "We swore to guard one another in unity. That vow must hold." He turned to Father Martins. "What say you, Reverend?" He asked
Father Martins, silent till now, stepped forward with a quiet nod.
"You are right, my king, the sister kingdoms must be guarded. But we must also guard the heart that beats for them. Let the noble lords of the council send their private armies to defend the capital. It will ease the burden while your knights ride."
King Maeric considered this, then nodded.
"So be it. Send the orders at once. Every noble banner is to dispatch men"
Then he turned to the knight's captain
"Sir Aldric," he called. "You'll ride with five hundred knights and another five hundred footmen. Split the host in two. You lead one half to the House of Verya, and send your second, Sir Roderic, to Seliah. Bring both princesses back to Aurelen at once. The feast cannot happen without them, and their safety comes before all." he said
"Go swiftly, and ride under the blessing of the Light." He added as Sir Aldric bowed low. "By your command, Your Majesty."
He said with full chest and strode out, his armor clinking in rhythm with the others who followed.
As the chamber emptied, only three remained — the King, the Priest, and the Catechist.
Father Martins spoke first, lowering his voice.
"Your Majesty, I fear the Viking raids are but a veil, a diversion meant to scatter our force and attention. Their timing is too precise, too deliberate. I believe the true danger lies closer to the crown."
King Maeric frowned. "You think someone means to strike the castle itself?"
"I do," said Father Martins gravely. "And if that is so, the Feast of Dawn may be the moment they choose."
Brother Kaius turned to the king, his eyes flicking toward the scorched letter.
"According to these messages, the attackers are not Vikings. And… the northmen have never allied with any but themselves. If they're being moved like pawns, someone powerful is pulling the strings."
At that, Father Martins and Brother Kaius exchanged a quiet, wordless glance.
It was brief, a flicker of knowing recognition,
They both understood something the king did not… or perhaps refused to.
The candlelight flickered. None spoke again.
---
At Dusk
The sun began to sink, casting the sky in crimson and gold. The castle grounds glowed beneath banners of white and silver.
I stood by the edge of the courtyard, watching as guests arrived one after another, lords and ladies draped in velvet, noblemen in polished armor, merchants, commoners, and knights. There were far more knights than I had expected; their armor gleamed like liquid fire beneath the sun. Father must be serious about making tonight special, I thought, smiling faintly.
Then, through the crowd, I spotted him. My father, King Maeric, stood at the back of the courtyard, deep in conversation with a few men. Their faces were grave, their voices hushed, it seemed a serious matter, but I paid it no mind. I ran toward him without a second thought.
Father was not only a king but a warrior through and through. Even after Mother passed, he never once faltered in his duty, neither as a ruler nor as a father. He carried the weight of the crown with quiet strength, and somehow, he still found space in that heavy heart of his to smile at me. To me, he wasn't just the King of Aurelen, he was my father. And in that moment, seeing him, stand out in his full glory, I couldn't have been prouder.
"Father!" I called, then quickly corrected myself, "I mean...Your Majesty."
He turned, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips, the kind that softened the sharpness of his eyes. He dismissed his men with a nod, and together we began to walk.
"I must admit, you've outdone yourself this time," I teased. "I thought Cousin Everen's feast was the grandest I'd ever see, but this__" I gestured toward the decorated arches and the ocean of guests "__this may just outshine it all."
He chuckled softly, though something heavy lingered in his gaze. "Little star," he said, the name he had always called me since childhood.
His hand rested gently on my shoulder. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The warmth of his touch was both comforting and unsettling, I could feel the weight of something unsaid.
Before he could speak further, a knight hurried toward him, whispering into his ear.
I watched as the color drained from my father's face. His posture stiffened, and in the next breath, the warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by a cold urgency.
"Elowen," he said sharply turning to me. "Find Father Martins or Brother Kaius. Stay with them, and do not leave their side. Do you understand?"
"What's happened?" I asked, the question barely leaving my lips.
"Do as I say," he ordered, already turning away.
As he strode off, I caught a glimpse of the sword at his belt, his war sword, and the faint glimps of armor beneath his royal cloak.
The sight froze me.
Around the courtyard, more knights began to assemble, their armor catching the dying light. The air that once rang with laughter was growing tense, uncertain__ as if the wind itself sensed what was to come.