The bells of Valemont Palace tolled, each chime slicing through the rain-drenched night like a warning. Outside, the city glimmered under a storm-darkened sky, streets empty except for the occasional flash of lightning. Golden rooftops gleamed under the sudden glow, but inside the palace, candlelight flickered—fragile and fleeting—like stars trembling before a storm.
Tonight was no ordinary night.
King Leontius Valemont stood at the balcony, the heavy weight of his crown pressing on his head—but heavier still was the tension in his heart. His gray eyes, sharp and unyielding, watched the storm gather, each clap of thunder echoing the turmoil within. Clad in a sapphire robe stitched with golden lions, he seemed the very image of strength—but the fear he felt was silent, hidden beneath the mask of the king.
"You're still out here?" came a soft, tremulous voice behind him.
Queen Seraphina stepped close, her silver-white gown shimmering as the candlelight caught every fold. Her golden-brown hair was braided with tiny pearls, and her hands rested gently on her rounded belly.
"How can I rest," Leontius murmured, placing his hand over hers, "when the love of my life is about to bring our child into this world?"
Seraphina smiled—a smile that could melt stone. Beautiful, graceful, powerful, and kind, she was the queen who had turned a political alliance into a union whispered about by the stars themselves.
"You'll be an incredible father," she whispered. A soft kick responded from within.
Leontius chuckled. "Already a fighter. Must be my daughter."
"And not mine?" she teased, mock offense in her voice.
"You're right," he grinned. "Our child will be the best of both."
Hours passed. Lanterns glowed against the storm's fury, and inside the queen's chambers, midwives moved like shadows, preparing herbal potions and warm cloths. The air was thick with incense and tension, each tick of the clock a drumbeat to destiny.
Outside, Leontius paced with Commander Thorne. "Still no news?" he asked, voice tight.
Thorne shook his head. "Only that the queen is strong."
Minutes stretched like hours. Then a midwife burst through the doors, eyes wide with astonishment.
"Your Majesty—it's twins!"
Leontius raced inside.
Seraphina lay on velvet sheets, pale but glowing. Two cradles waited beside her.
The first child, tiny and ethereal, had snow-white hair and deep blue eyes like ice lit by moonlight. The room went silent, awed by her otherworldly presence.
The second, just as beautiful, had silky black hair and dark eyes like her father's. She cried with the strength of life itself, asserting her presence from the very start.
"Meet your daughters," Seraphina whispered, tears shining.
Leontius lifted the white-haired baby gently. "They're perfect," he breathed. He pressed a kiss to Seraphina's forehead. "You've given me a kingdom of joy."
But joy faltered in the shadow of fate.
Father Alwin entered to bless the newborns. When his hand touched the white-haired child, he froze. Breath caught. Eyes widened. He sank to his knees.
"My King… there is a shadow," he said, voice trembling.
Leontius stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"This child… her soul burns brighter than any I have seen. But her destiny carries fire—and danger. If she stays here, your house… your throne… will be tested like never before. Hide her. Raise her in secret. Or the kingdom may not survive what she will awaken."
Seraphina's hands shook. "You're mad! She's a baby!"
Leontius did not answer.
That night, when the palace slept, Leontius placed the white-haired child—Princess Elira—into the arms of Commander Thorne.
"Raise her far from here. Protect her, teach her, love her. But never tell her who she is… until the stars demand it."
Father Alwin intoned, "When the hidden star turns sixteen, Valemont's fate will stir. Let no crown, no blade claim her before that time. Only then… will her true light awaken, and darkness shall know fear."
Thorne bowed, clutching the child. Around her neck, the Valemont crest glimmered—a silent token of the power she carried.
Seraphina watched her daughter vanish into the night, holding the black-haired child close. She named her Princess Arabella, and to the world, Arabella became the king's only heir.
But the night still whispered secrets:
"On a night when two stars were born, only one lit the palace. The other… hidden in shadow, waits. Wh
en she returns, the world will tremble… and none will know the hour."