In the radiant kingdom of Solarelia, sunlight bathed the marble towers in golden warmth, and magic whispered in the winds. Under the rule of King Aelric, the realm thrived—respected, prosperous, and at peace.
His Queen, Elira, was noble and commanding. The court admired her beauty and feared her sharp tongue. Yet beyond the polished surface of palace life, the fate of Solarelia was about to be changed forever.
It began on a day marked for joy.
The Queen had given birth to a daughter—Princess Solana. Her arrival was announced with bell chimes and flower petals. Solana was perfect: hair like spun gold, blue eyes like clear morning skies. The people rejoiced.
But later that same day, the King received dark news.
Lady Sylmara, a gentle noblewoman and the King's second wife, had gone into labor early. There were complications. She fought bravely, but her body gave out as she delivered a second daughter.
The baby girl did not cry.
Her hair was black at night, her eyes a piercing green like forest shadows. She was quiet—too quiet. The midwives stared. One of them whispered, "Is she even alive?"
She was.
And the King named her Ravena.
He held her tightly, grief and wonder mixed in his heart. Lady Sylmara had died bringing her into the world, and now this silent child lay in his arms, motherless, surrounded by unease.
Queen Elira was not pleased.
"This child," she said coldly, "should not be raised among royals. She was born in death, and she brings its shadow with her."
The court began to whisper. A second princess—motherless, strange, unblinking. They called her cursed in hushed voices.
A royal ceremony was held to bless the two daughters.
First came Solana. The royal archmage raised his staff, touched it to her forehead, and smiled. "This child," he declared, "will bring peace and joy. She is the future light of Solarelia."
The crowd cheered.
Then came Ravena.
The staff touched her skin—and cracked with a thunderclap. The wind howled. The sky darkened.
The archmage dropped the staff and stepped back, eyes wide.
"She is… shadow. I see fire and loss. She will walk a path of storms. The darkness follows her like a breath."
A hush fell across the grand hall. Some nobles moved away. Queen Elira took Solana by the hand and turned her back.
But the King did not move.
He stepped forward and lifted Ravena in his arms.
"She is my daughter," he said. "And no darkness will keep her from her place in this kingdom."
Yet from that day forward, Ravena was treated as a stranger in her own home.
The court ignored her. The Queen despised her. Even Solana, beautiful and beloved, was taught to pity or mock her. Ravena grew up watching from the shadows—uninvited to feasts, dressed plainly, rarely spoken to.
Only the King loved her. He gave her books, time, quiet talks under moonlight. But he could not protect her from the whispers, the judgment, or the loneliness.
While Solana danced in sunlight, Ravena walked in silence.
She stopped wearing dresses. She dressed like the guards. She watched them train with swords through cracks in the courtyard wall. At night, she stood by her window, dreaming of other worlds—where being born in shadow didn't make you unworthy of love.
And though no one knew it yet…
The shadows were watching her, too.