The first scream came before the crown touched my head.
Guards scrambled through the marble halls of Avenlor's throne room, swords drawn, boots slamming against the blood-red carpet. I stood frozen on the dais, my hand half-raised toward the obsidian crown hovering in a pool of golden light. The enchantment pulsed, reacting to my presence. Or maybe… to my fear.
Another scream. Louder. Closer. Then the crash of steel, and someone shouting, "Magefire! Take cover!"
My heart slammed against my ribs. Magic was forbidden in Avenlor — outlawed, hunted, silenced. Anyone wielding it was a traitor. A weapon.
So why did the flames sing to me?
"Seris, down!" barked Captain Halric, drawing his sword and shielding me with his body as a streak of blue fire cut across the chamber, scorching the royal banners above.
I dropped to the floor just as a blast of heat shattered the eastern window. Glass rained over us, glittering like deadly snow.
Today was supposed to be my coronation. Instead, it was a battlefield.
Two hours earlier, I had been laced into my ceremonial armor — not silks like a proper heir — because my father always said, "A Valenne bleeds before she bows."
Now he lay slumped on the throne, blood darkening the gold trim of his robe. Unmoving.
"Father!" I screamed, but Halric held me back.
"Focus, Princess," he growled. "This was an inside attack. We need to get you to the catacombs."
"But the crown—"
"Forget the damn crown. They came for you."
We moved fast through the upper halls, ducking under crumbling archways and past fallen statues of the old kings. I could smell smoke and scorched stone. The air pulsed with something unnatural — like lightning without a storm.
I glanced behind me. One of the guards lay facedown in a pool of flame. Another cried out as a shadow tore through him.
"Who are they?" I gasped.
"Not soldiers," Halric muttered. "Mercenaries. Maybe worse. Someone let them in."
My blood chilled. Avenlor's walls had never fallen. Not for centuries. Not since the War of Crowns. If they were here now… someone from the inside had betrayed us.
We reached the old war corridor, where only royal blood could open the iron vault door. My hand trembled as I pressed it to the stone crest.
It hissed and groaned open.
Inside: a narrow spiral staircase leading to the catacombs — and hopefully escape.
Halric turned sharply. "Wait. Someone's coming."
I drew my blade — slim, curved, engraved with the sigil of House Valenne. I wasn't supposed to have one — princesses wore crowns, not swords. But I had trained in secret for years, in the moonlit halls when no one watched. My brothers taught me until they died in battle. Then I taught myself.
Now I was the last.
A figure stepped out of the smoke. Hooded. Slim. Silent.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
They lifted a gloved hand — not in surrender, but in warning.
Then the hood fell.
It wasn't a soldier.
It was a girl. My age. Maybe younger.
A scar across her cheek. Eyes glowing faintly blue.
A mage.
"You're Princess Seris," she said. "You have to come with me. If you stay here, you'll die. If you come with me… he will find you."
"Who—"
"The Prince of Vareth."
I froze.
Vareth. The rival kingdom. The land of wolves and poison.
The man whose name was written beside mine in the old prophecy.
When the fire and ice meet, Avenlor will fall.
And love will burn the crown to ash.
The words haunted my dreams. The prophecy was whispered in war camps, scribbled in forbidden scrolls. My father had it buried. But even buried things find ways to rise.
"Why would a Vareth prince want me alive?" I whispered.
But the mage girl didn't answer.
Behind her, soldiers screamed.
Halric stepped forward. "We don't trust witches."
"She's not lying," I murmured. I didn't know how I knew. I just… felt it. Like a burning under my skin.
Something inside me shifted. Like fire stirring for the first time.
Could it be… me?
The mage's voice turned sharp. "Choose now, Princess. The crown is lost. The kingdom burns. But if you leave, there's still a chance to end it. Or start something new."
Halric gritted his teeth. "We fight or flee. Decide."
I looked down at my sword. At the blood on my boots. At the smoke curling into the sky.
The palace was falling.
And love… was coming.
I stepped forward.
"Take me to him."