"Some cages are crafted not from iron — but from names, from blood, from memory itself."— Ella the Silvertongued Princess
Dove.
When I woke, the blue flame still licked the air before me — low, steady, breathing in a way no flame should.
Cleo was gone.
Had she ever been there at all?Or had the blood loss simply conjured her out of the old bones of this place?
I didn't know.
But the strange warmth she left behind — that fragile thread of belonging — still clung to my skin like silk.
I rose slowly, my joints screaming, my broken leg stiff and hot beneath the bindings Raven once taught me to tie.
The underground chamber stretched around me — ancient, silent, trembling faintly with the hum of unseen power.
In the far corner, nearly invisible, I saw it: a door.Warped and swollen with age, half-swallowed by the stone.
I limped to it.
It fought me — resisting like a living thing — until with a low groan it surrendered just enough to let me slip inside.
Dust choked the air.
A forgotten bedroom, half-devoured by time.A narrow bed, its mattress split and weeping straw.A rotted desk, crumbling under the weight of ancient, moldering papers.A bookshelf full of old tomes slumped sideways in their frames like the dead still seated at a banquet.
Drawn by some hunger older than fear, I stumbled to the wardrobe in the corner.
Inside — gowns.Real gowns, real silks. Not the shredded costumes the madame forced the girls to wear.
I reached out, trembling, and touched a vibrant purple one — richer and deeper than the bruises still painting my skin.
The fabric whispered against my fingers.
And with that whisper — the memory opened like a wound.
--
Dove, Age 7.
The music had called me deeper into the jungle.
A fever of sound — drums, the low thrum of chanting — weaving into my bones.
The lights were waiting there — floating, shimmering, twinkling like living stars fallen to earth.
And between them, a woman.
Her presence broke the world.
Raven-black hair down to her waist, skin pale and luminous as frost, and eyes — golden, burning like twin suns.
She knelt in front of me, her hands cool against my fevered cheeks.
"Sweet child," she whispered."Fear not the darkness. It is only the place before the light is born."
I sobbed into her shoulder.
"My daddy—"
"We will find him," she soothed, lifting me easily into her arms."For here, family is sacred. Blood is sacred."
She carried me — not toward the castle, but deeper, under boughs that bent low as if listening.
And as we walked, she sang — a song in a language I did not know but understood all the same.A song of birth. Of ash. Of bone.
The castle lights glimmered on the horizon, a thousand little promises in the dark.
I pointed eagerly.
"There!" I squealed. "Daddy's there! Take me home!"
The woman slowed.
She turned her golden gaze on me — mournful, almost pitying.
"My sweet girl," she murmured, "you must understand. There is no home there for us."
I frowned, puffing up with childish righteousness.
"I'm a princess!" I declared. "I'm Cecilia's twin — one day I'll be important too!"
Her smile cracked.And for a moment, something vast and terrible shifted behind her eyes — like a tide turning far out at sea.
"There is only one princess of Salva," she said softly.
I shoved against her arms, furious."Cecilia and I are the same!" I shouted. "You lie!"
She let me go.
Gently.Almost tenderly.
I stood on the forest floor, trembling, still wrapped in the tattered shreds of my bright purple gown.
The woman crouched down to my level.Brushed my hair back from my damp forehead with infinite care.
"When you awaken," she whispered, "when you remember what was taken from you — seek me. Seek us.We will be waiting at the end of the world."
I glared at her through hot tears.Turned away.
And ran — toward the castle, toward the only truth I thought I knew.
When I stumbled back into the palace grounds, the world felt wrong — smaller somehow.
I found Cecilia sitting alone by the reflecting pool.
She rose when she saw me, her silver gown catching the light, her mouth a thin, bloodless line.
"Cece!" I cried.
She didn't open her arms.She didn't run to me.
She lifted one perfect hand and slapped me across the face so hard I stumbled.
"You humiliated us," she spat."You risked everything."
My lip trembled, but I said nothing.
"As the second child, you exist only to obey," she hissed."To stay in the shadows where you belong."
And then she turned her back on me — on the bond we once shared — and left me there.
Alone.
Forgotten.
Unseen.
--
Dove.
The memory shredded away like smoke.
I sank down onto the cold floor of the hidden chamber, clutching the old gown against my chest.
My heart hammered, but it wasn't fear this time.
It was the gnawing sense that something had been stolen from me long, long ago — something deeper than titles or crowns.
Something woven into my very blood.
I thought of Cleo.Of the lights in the forest. Of the woman with the golden eyes and the voice full of sorrow.
"When you awaken..."
I closed my eyes and rocked slowly on the stone floor.
The blue flame flickered higher.
And somewhere, far away — deep in the marrow of the castle —something unseen turned its face toward me.
And smiled.
And something, older than kings and queens, woke up hungry inside her blood.