The kingdom of Virelle stood as one of the most renowned realms across the land. Its summers were warm without being cruel, its springs generous with life, and its cities gleamed with careful growth and wealth earned through trade. Under King Austine Leigh's rule, Virelle had expanded far beyond its original borders, claiming territories once held by humans and folding them into a kingdom that thrived under vampiric dominion.
Yet admiration was never without fear.
For Virelle was ruled by vampires, the most powerful race to exist. Their strength was whispered about in distant kingdoms, their cruelty exaggerated and their victories remembered. Even peace, when it came from Virelle, carried the weight of blood.
Behind the palace, in one of unused rooms, where ivy climbed pale stone walls and the court rarely ventured, a boy no older than fourteen stood staring at his hands.
They were burned.
Charred skin peeled away slowly, knitting itself back together as if the damage had never been done. Cassian watched the healing in silence, his chest tight as his gaze flicked between his hands and the ruined couch before him. The once ornate piece of furniture lay blackened and cracked, its surface still faintly warm though the fire had long died.
His breath came shallow. He had not meant for it to happen and even as he heard footsteps approaching, he did not turn around.
"Cassian, what did you just do?"
The voice belonged to Samuel, older by a few years and taller by barely an inch. He stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide as they took in the scorched furniture and Cassian's trembling hands.
"You know you cannot keep burning things around here," Samuel continued, lowering his voice even as tension sharpened it. "Father is already angry about what you did in the drawing room."
Cassian lifted his gaze slowly.
"I have to tell Father about this," Samuel said, turning toward the small hall.
"Do it, and I will tell him about your little escapes in the middle of the night to meet Letitia." Cassian replied calmly.
Samuel stopped.
Cassian tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes steady. "I am fairly certain he warned all of us against forming ties with the Douglases."
Samuel turned back, his expression hardening into disbelief. It was the look of someone certain no one would dare believe such an accusation.
Cassian smiled faintly.
"We both know you have a self-control of a twig. He may not fully believe me, but your movements will be watched. I wonder how long Letitia will wait before her patience breaks and she tells her father everything."
Silence stretched between them.
Cassian glanced down at his right hand. The skin had already healed completely. His gaze drifted back to the ruined chair.
"How about you help me remove it now that Father is in the courtroom." He said quietly.
Samuel hesitated. "You cannot keep doing this," he said at last. "What if you hurt someone? What if you kill someone?"
Cassian did not answer.
It had been nearly a month since the changes began. Whenever he sensed danger, he could find himself turning things into fire and no matter how fiercely he tried to stop it, he just couldn't.
Samuel took the other side.
Together, they lifted the remains and carried them out, neither of them speaking.
Once they had disposed of the charred chair, Cassian made his way toward the library.
It had become a familiar refuge over the past weeks. Quiet, vast, and heavy with forgotten knowledge, it was the only place where he felt he might find answers to what was happening to him. He had already explored more than half its shelves, his nights spent scanning brittle pages and forbidden texts, yet nothing he had found offered him even the smallest measure of clarity.
Living like this was becoming unbearable and matter how hard he tried to dismiss Samuel's warning, a part of him knew it was true. One day, the fire would not stop at furniture. One day, it would reach flesh. And when it did, there would be no forgiveness waiting for him.
Cassian ran a hand through his ruffled black hair and reached blindly for an old book, its spine cracked and darkened with age. He carried it to one of the seats near the tall windows and opened the first page.
The book spoke of faes.
It detailed their abilities, their ancient courts, and the way their magic mirrored that of witches. Unlike witches, however, faes did not rely on human or animal sacrifice. Their power was innate, bound to the land itself rather than drawn from blood or death.
Cassian's attention sharpened.
Page after page described abilities tied to growth, illusion, healing, and elements beyond human comprehension. He turned the pages slowly, absorbing every word, until a small passage caught his eye.
The handwriting was different. Uneven. Rushed. As though whoever had written it feared being discovered.
It spoke of a rare existence known as the Verdantis Fae.
A fae born with dominion over nature itself, gifted with command over the four elements. Fire, water, earth, and air answered them not as tools, but as extensions of their will. According to the text, such a fae appeared only once every three centuries.
Cassian stared at the words.
The chances of one existing now were slimmer than finding a needle buried in a field of ash.
And yet, a quiet thought settled in his mind.
If such a fae walked the land, perhaps they would understand what was wrong with him.
He closed the book slowly. Searching for something so rare felt pointless. Even if the Verdantis Fae existed, he had neither the freedom nor the desire to leave the palace in pursuit of a legend.
Time slipped by unnoticed as he remained there, lost in thought, until soft footsteps approached.
"Cassian."
He looked up to find Princess Leila standing nearby. Of all his siblings, she was the only one who had ever shown him kindness without calculation.
"Father is asking for you," she said gently.
Cassian closed the book and rose to his feet and started to make his way towards the third wing in which the courtroom in hopes that Samuel had not said a word to his father.