Chapter One: The Chosen Girl
The sound of distant bells echoed through the valley, faint yet heavy — like a warning wrapped in gold. Lyra stood at the edge of the field, the morning light glinting over her pale hair as she picked the last of the wild strawberries. The scent of earth and spring clung to her fingers.
She didn't hear the horses until they were close. The royal guards — dressed in black and crimson — arrived like a storm breaking through silence. Their armor shimmered with dragon symbols, sharp and cold.
"Lyra of Edevine," one of them called, his voice hard as stone. "By decree of the Dragon King, you have been chosen."
Her basket fell from her hands, berries scattering like drops of blood against the dirt.
"Chosen…?" she whispered. "For what?"
The guard's expression didn't change. "For marriage. His Majesty has made his selection."
The words struck her chest like a blade. Everyone in the village knew what that meant — each year, one girl was chosen from the poorest lands to become the Dragon King's bride. A ceremony disguised as honor, yet whispered to be a curse. None of the past brides were ever seen again.
Lyra's breath trembled. "There must be some mistake. I—I'm no one."
The guard's eyes softened, almost pitying. "The King has made his choice."
And just like that, her fate was sealed.
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The castle rose days later — tall, carved into the mountains, hidden by fog and flame. The halls felt ancient, like they were breathing. Servants moved quietly, their eyes avoiding hers.
When the heavy doors to the throne room opened, Lyra's pulse froze.
There he was.
The Dragon King sat upon a throne of obsidian and gold. His skin was bronze, almost glowing under the dim light. His dark, half-curled hair fell loosely over his shoulders, and his eyes — deep amber, almost molten — didn't waver as they met hers.
He was beautiful, in a cruel way. Cold. Controlled. Dangerous.
"So," he said at last, his voice low, rough as smoke. "You're the girl the court won't stop talking about."
Lyra lowered her gaze. "I didn't ask to be here."
"Neither did I."
Her head lifted slightly, confused. He leaned back, studying her — not with affection, but calculation.
"Don't think you're special," he said, his tone sharp but tired. "I only accepted you because the court was tired of hearing me say no."
Her heart clenched, though she didn't know why. "Then why look at me like that?" she whispered.
His jaw tightened. The gold in his eyes flickered — softer now, almost human.
"…Because I don't know what I'm looking at."
For a moment, silence filled the hall. The air trembled between them — fragile, alive.
Lyra didn't yet know that this was how all curses began.