The night air pressed heavily against the windows of the Emerald mansion, carrying a chill that made Shellia shiver despite the thick blankets wrapped around her. Her black hair fanned across the pillow, and her blue eyes blinked open, wide and alert. She had been dreaming again—dreams she had hoped to bury in the depths of her mind—but the nightmare refused to release her.
Elyra Veridane appeared immediately in her thoughts. Violet hair cascading like silk, eyes green and hypnotic, a smile that could bend loyalty and hearts alike. Even in the dim moonlight of her room, Shellia felt the sharp pang of fear and frustration that had haunted her first life. Elyra had not just been a rival; she had been the architect of her misery.
The dream began in the grand palace ballroom, where Shellia had first stood beside Allen Evan Aurora as his political bride. Their marriage had always been a matter of state, a strategic alliance to consolidate power between families. Love had never entered the equation—Shellia had loved him silently, with the hope that devotion might spark warmth in his heart—but Allen had been polite, distant, and restrained, bound by duty and appearances.
And then Elyra returned from the neighboring kingdom, her education complete, her presence commanding. From the very first moment, she had made Shellia's life unbearable.
"Allen," Elyra's voice had floated across the ballroom, smooth as silk yet carrying an edge that could cut steel. "I see the arrangements are finalized. How… ordinary."
Shellia had clenched her fists, standing beside her husband with a polite bow. "Elyra. Welcome back." Her voice had been calm, but every syllable carried the weight of contained frustration.
Elyra had tilted her head, her green eyes glittering like gems. "Oh, Shellia… you always try so hard. But it's quite amusing, isn't it? How someone can appear noble yet fail to command even a whisper of respect from those around her?"
Allen had frowned. "Elyra, that's enough." But Shellia could feel the hesitation in his tone. She had known too well—he trusted Elyra's judgment, often more than her own.
That night, Elyra's machinations had begun in earnest. She had orchestrated incidents to make Shellia appear cold, unfeeling, or incompetent—always ensuring Allen witnessed each moment.
"Shellia," Elyra had whispered in the palace garden one evening, feigning fear and distress. "The candles! They've caught fire! Oh, I can't…" She stumbled dramatically, her gown catching briefly in the flames of a decorative torch.
Shellia had reacted instantly, rushing forward to help, but Allen had arrived moments later. Seeing Elyra's tear-streaked face and trembling form, he had immediately reached for her, concern etched on his features.
"Shellia, what happened?" he had demanded, eyes wide and anxious.
"I—I tried to help," Shellia had said, her voice firm yet calm, but the subtle glances Elyra had cast at Allen had undermined her entirely. "She tripped, but it's under control now."
Elyra had pouted slightly, hiding her triumphant smirk behind a hand. "Oh, you always rush in, Shellia. But sometimes, one must consider the consequences… for everyone's safety."
Allen, without a second thought, had nodded at Elyra's words, his trust in her evident. Shellia had felt a pang of disbelief—again and again, Elyra had spun events to cast Shellia as the villain, while presenting herself as the innocent, fragile figure. Every misstep in the palace, every misunderstanding, Elyra had orchestrated them meticulously.
In the dream, the ballroom blurred around Shellia's vision. She could see Elyra in every reflection, her green eyes following her, calculating and cruel. She had remembered how helpless she had felt, how powerless her words were against the charm and deceit Elyra wielded effortlessly. And Allen, her husband, the man she had loved with all her heart, had been swayed at every turn.
"You always think too much, Shellia," Elyra's voice had echoed in her nightmare, sharp and laced with venomous delight. "You'll never see how the world truly bends. It bends to those who know how to command it, not those who simply feel."
Shellia's chest tightened as the memory pressed in on her. She had tried to argue, to explain, to show Allen that Elyra was orchestrating every misfortune to her detriment.
"Allen, she's lying! She's manipulating everything!" she had shouted in her dream.
Allen had hesitated, torn between duty, his lingering respect for Shellia, and the hypnotic pull of Elyra's presence. "Shellia… Elyra's right sometimes. Perhaps you misunderstand."
The betrayal had stung worse than any blade. Shellia had loved him quietly, genuinely, yet his eyes—those that had once seemed full of promise—had wavered at Elyra's touch. Every time Elyra feigned weakness, every time she posed as a victim, Allen had rushed to her side, leaving Shellia standing in the shadows, the unintended villain in the eyes of everyone around them.
Even in her dream, Shellia could feel the cold despair of being trapped in a life where the person she cherished most had been so easily swayed. Elyra had seemed untouchable, and Shellia had known she could not fight against Allen's blind trust in his first love.
Tears pricked her eyes as she remembered the countless times Elyra had smiled at Allen, whispered in his ear, and then looked at her with mock concern. Shellia's heart had been caught between love and rage, between hope and the bitter taste of betrayal.
And yet, as the nightmare continued, a small flame of determination burned within her. She had awakened her powers in this new life, harnessed the strength of her Spirit Beloved, and had faced demons without flinching. The Shellia of this life was not the powerless bride of the past. She had magic, allies, and the experience of knowing what true manipulation looked like. Elyra's games, while still dangerous, no longer held the same power over her.
Shellia took a deep, steadying breath, sitting up in her bed. Her black hair fell in waves over her shoulders as her blue eyes reflected the moonlight. "I am not that girl anymore," she whispered to the empty room, her voice firm. "I will not be controlled. I will not be fooled. And I will protect the people I care about—no one, not even Elyra, will take that from me."
A soft shimmer of light appeared beside her bed as Yuki, her tiny Spirit Beloved, materialized. His short white hair and blue eyes gave him an almost ethereal glow in the moonlight. He floated near her shoulder, tilting his head with quiet concern.
[Lia, the past haunts you because it is familiar. But it cannot touch you now. You are stronger, and you have allies.]
"I know, Yuki," Shellia murmured, reaching out to brush the tiny spirit's hair. "But it hurts to remember… to remember how easily he believed her. How carefully she built this web around Allen and me. She made me the villain in my own life, and he never questioned her."
[Lia, you must remember, they are shadows. Shadows cannot survive the light you carry now. Elyra may try to manipulate, but the strength within you is unmatched.]
Shellia nodded, feeling her chest rise with a mix of lingering fear and growing resolve. Elyra's green eyes might still haunt her dreams, but in reality, Shellia now had the power to face any deception, any manipulation, and any threat that tried to bend her life again.
The moonlight bathed her room as Shellia closed her eyes, finally allowing herself to drift into a calmer sleep. This time, she would not be a passive participant in the schemes of others. She would face the challenges ahead—Elyra, Allen, and any demon the world dared to send her way—with the full strength of her Spirit Beloved, and the lessons of a past life that had almost destroyed her.
---
The morning sun filtered gently through the silk curtains of Shellia's chamber, casting soft golden light over the black waves of her hair. She stirred beneath the blankets, her blue eyes fluttering open to greet a new day. The night's dreams, dark and haunting as they had been, had faded, leaving only the faint chill of unease along her spine.
Before she could fully rise, the door creaked open and Mira stepped inside, her expression a mixture of urgency and respect. Her small frame was tense, and her usually calm demeanor carried a trace of excitement.
"Miss Shellia," Mira said softly, her voice careful but direct. "The Duke… your father… has called for you. He insists it is important you come immediately."
Shellia swung her legs off the bed and stood, adjusting her simple morning gown. "I understand, Mira. Thank you for informing me." Her voice was steady, though a small ripple of curiosity stirred within her. After the events of yesterday—her first real battle against the demons that had assaulted the citizens of the Emerald Dukedom—she could not help but wonder what her father could want at this moment.
The walk to the Duke's study felt longer than it should have, each step echoing against the polished floors. The halls of the Emerald mansion, usually filled with quiet elegance, seemed alive with anticipation. As she approached the large double doors of the study, she could hear faint murmurs, a kind of reverence that hinted at the presence of someone unusual.
Pushing the doors open, Shellia entered, and her eyes widened slightly at the sight before her. Her father, Duke Gerald Emerald, stood with his usual composed posture—black hair slicked back neatly, purple eyes deep and unwavering—but it was the man beside him who commanded immediate attention.
Tall and regal, he wore the robes of a high-ranking priest, platinum hair cascading to his shoulders, and eyes of a striking bluish-green that seemed to pierce the very air around him. His presence exuded an aura of divine authority, so pure and radiant that Shellia instinctively took a step back, unsure whether she should kneel or remain standing.
"Shellia Emerald," the man spoke, his voice calm, rich, and resonant, as though it carried weight beyond simple words. "I am Lumiel Ark, a priest of the highest rank within the order. My purpose here is to serve and protect."
Shellia blinked, taken aback. She had heard of the great priests—those chosen by the divine to wield sacred power and guide the world—but she had never imagined one would come personally to her.
Lumiel's gaze swept over her, and then, with a precision and grace that made her heart ache in awe, he knelt on one knee and lowered his head in a deep bow. His posture was that of a knight offering a solemn oath, an unspoken vow of protection and loyalty.
"By the divine light, I swear to protect you, Shellia Emerald," Lumiel declared, his voice unwavering, almost musical in its purity. "As long as I draw breath, I will shield you from harm, guide you with counsel, and fight by your side against any force that dares to threaten you."
Shellia felt herself frozen in place, staring at him. Her heart thumped erratically. In her first life, she had been a queen, a wife to the Emperor, yet Elyra Veridane's interference and manipulation had left her utterly alone. No knight had ever stepped forward to offer a vow of protection. She had been abandoned, betrayed, and isolated, her power and position meaningless in the absence of loyal support.
And now—here, before her eyes, a living embodiment of devotion and honor knelt humbly. A surge of emotion—a mix of relief, astonishment, and gratitude—swelled in her chest.
Lumiel's gaze then shifted subtly, drawn not to her, but to the tiny figure at her side. Yuki, her Spirit Beloved, hovered with a gentle luminescence, blue eyes fixed on the priest. Lumiel's expression softened, but it carried the weight of profound respect, as if he were gazing upon a young prince of a great kingdom.
Shellia noticed immediately. "You… you can see him," she murmured, incredulous. "You see Yuki?"
Lumiel's posture remained reverent, even as he slowly straightened, keeping his gaze locked on the Spirit Beloved. "Indeed," he replied. "I sense a power within him, unlike any ordinary spirit. It is pure, potent, and noble. I recognize the bond he shares with you, and I honor it. To witness such a being is rare… even among the divine."
Shellia's heart skipped a beat. Yuki, her tiny, seemingly unassuming Spirit Beloved with healing powers, had never been treated with anything resembling such reverence. Even she herself had underestimated his presence in the grand scale of divine forces. Yet Lumiel's recognition confirmed something she had felt instinctively: Yuki was extraordinary, and his loyalty and power were tied inextricably to her own fate.
Yuki chirped softly, his small voice firm in her mind. [He honors me… just as he honors you. It is a rare blessing.]
Shellia placed a hand gently on Yuki's shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips despite the lingering weight of exhaustion from yesterday's battle. "I see… He respects you, Yuki. Perhaps now I can finally understand how much power and responsibility we truly bear."
Lumiel Ark then rose fully, stepping closer to Shellia. His eyes, gleaming with divine authority, softened with compassion as they met hers. "Shellia Emerald," he said, his tone now gentler, "the awakening of your power marks a pivotal moment for this generation. You are no ordinary wielder of magic. You have inherited the mantle of the Emerald family's Spirit Beloved—a power that once belonged to those who shaped the fate of kingdoms. And with such power comes both blessing and burden."
Shellia listened, her pulse quickening. The events of yesterday, facing demons alone with Yuki's aid, now made sense under this divine acknowledgment. She had felt the weight of responsibility, the surge of overwhelming power, and yet the clarity of purpose that had driven her forward.
"You will not face this alone," Lumiel continued. "As long as I stand, as long as Yuki stands, you will have allies. But remember… this path is fraught with challenges, and those who seek to manipulate or control you will stop at nothing. It is essential that you remain vigilant, for the world has eyes you cannot always see."
Shellia nodded solemnly, gripping Yuki's small form a little tighter. She felt the surge of confidence, tempered by the awareness of the dangers ahead. In her first life, she had been abandoned; now, she had allies who recognized her strength and would stand with her. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly supported.
Lumiel stepped back slightly, lowering his head once more in a gesture of solemn respect. "You have my oath, Shellia Emerald," he said quietly. "As long as I draw breath, I will serve and protect you, and guide the world in accordance with your destiny."
Shellia's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Thank you, Lumiel," she whispered. "I will not fail… not with you and Yuki by my side."
For a long moment, silence filled the room—an unspoken pact forged between the priest, the Spirit Beloved, and the young woman destined to carry a legacy heavier than most could imagine.
The morning sun now fully illuminated the chamber, casting light upon three figures bound by fate: Shellia, the heir of the Emerald family's awakening power; Yuki, her loyal and powerful Spirit Beloved; and Lumiel Ark, the divine priest whose allegiance was sworn with solemnity and honor. Together, they represented a new dawn for the dukedom, and perhaps, for the world itself.
And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Shellia allowed herself to feel the warmth of hope.
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