The first light of dawn crept through tall, arched windows, casting soft rays over the room. The pale gold glow danced across the silken tapestries, illuminating their intricate designs. Elira Valen sat at her dressing table, her fingers tracing the delicate silver clasp of her gown. Her reflection in the mirror seemed to mock her. Dark eyes stared back, filled with questions she couldn't answer, while her once-beautiful hair, now swept up in a hurried knot, looked untamed, a stark contrast to the polished image of a princess she once thought she was.
Beyond her chamber door, the castle stirred ,soft footfalls on marble floors, whispered greetings exchanged like secrets in the quiet morning air. But Elira felt none of the lightness that filled the halls. The weight of the room pressed against her chest, the suffocating silence of the space she had come to know as both her home and her prison.
The castle, built from stone that had stood for centuries, had always felt more like a cage than a sanctuary. The cold walls, the ancient tapestries faded with time, the heavy doors that groaned under the weight of their own history—it was all oppressive. Every corner held a shadow, every hallway seemed to stretch on endlessly. In these cold, marble halls, Elira often felt like a visitor, an intruder in a place that had ceased to welcome her.
The laughter of the other ladies-in-waiting echoed from the hallway, light and carefree, but it felt distant to her, like a world she could never belong to again. She had once been one of them ; alive with purpose, filled with ambition, a girl who dreamed of a future. But that was before Seris, before the kingdom's obsession with her perfect, golden-haired sister. Now, Elira was a shadow in the background, a forgotten daughter of the royal bloodline, her role replaced by the flawless image of Seris.
A soft knock on the door snapped Elira from her thoughts. The maid entered, head bowed. "Princess, the ladies are assembled in the courtyard," she said quietly.
Elira nodded, her heart sinking. She rose slowly, her feet heavy as she crossed the room. With every step, she could feel the castle's cold grip tightening around her, dragging her toward a destiny she had not chosen.
*****
Outside, the courtyard was bathed in the gentle light of the morning sun. The scent of dew and roses filled the air, the warm breeze tugging at Elira's gown as she stepped onto the cobblestones. The ladies-in-waiting stood by the fountain, their voices a mixture of gossip and laughter, light and effortless. But today, their words seemed muffled to Elira, their joy as distant as the unreachable sky above them. She folded her hands before her, standing apart from the chatter, feeling the emptiness settle deep in her chest.
"Did you hear? Seris will wed the Cursekeeper himself."
The words landed like a blow, sending a sharp jolt of panic through her. Her breath caught in her throat, and the world around her seemed to blur. The ladies' excitement rose around her, their voices bright with excitement at the union between the kingdom's most beloved princess and the exiled prince. But to Elira, it felt like a betrayal.
Seris was meant to be the one, the heir, the golden child. She had always been the one who would unite the royal bloodline with a prince whose name was whispered in fear the Cursekeeper, a man as dark as the legends that followed him.
The cold knot in her stomach tightened, but she forced a smile, even as it trembled. "How wondrous," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Another maid leaned in closer, her eyes wide with gossip. "They say he's returned after a decade in the cursed woods. Imagine Seris's beauty beside his scars…"
Elira felt her stomach turn, a bitter taste rising in her throat. The words scraped against her mind, a curse she couldn't escape. Seris, the perfect princess, would now stand beside a man twisted by time and suffering, a man whose very existence seemed to embody the darkness of the world. The thought of it sickened her.
Her eyes drifted north, toward the ramparts that overlooked the forest, the dark trees rising like silent watchers. Beyond those walls lay the Cursekeeper's domain, a place of mystery, fear, and whispers. A place where Series was being sent, whether she wanted to go or not.
A distant horn sounded, cutting through the tension in the courtyard. The chatter died as quickly as it had begun. Elira's heart hammered in her chest. The Queen would speak.
*****
The grand marble doors to the royal hall swung open, and Queen Ysera stepped out, regal and unyielding. Her cold eyes swept over the gathered courtiers, her voice ringing out, crisp and emotionless. "My ladies and lords, I regret to inform you that Princess Seris Valen is missing."
The words sent a shockwave through the gathered court, their disbelief palpable. Murmurs rippled through the crowd like an unsettling breeze. Elira's mind raced. Missing? Seris was missing?
Her mother's next words hit her like a physical blow.
"By ancient accord, Princess Elira Valen will take her sister's vow and be wed to the Cursekeeper."
Elira's world tilted. Her breath caught in her throat, her chest tightening as if the air itself had disappeared. Missing? Seris was missing, and now Elira was to take her place. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, a frantic pulse of dread and disbelief.
The court seemed to ripple with whispers, the courtiers' voices like a distant hum. Elira's legs felt weak, her head spinning as the reality of her fate settled on her shoulders. There was no escape. No choice.
A courtier stepped forward, unrolling a royal decree. "By royal command, Princess Elira must depart immediately for the Cursekeeper's castle, under the protection of the crown's most loyal knight."
Ronan, a royal guard, stepped forward, his emerald eyes filled with concern. He bowed low, and Elira forced herself to return the gesture, though her body felt numb, her every step weighed down by the cold, unfeeling stone beneath her.
*****
Back in her chamber, Elira's hands shook as she packed a small satchel. She left behind her mother's jewels, her finest silks—too heavy and unnecessary. Only the barest essentials went into the bag: a change of clothes, a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth, and the dagger her father had once given her for protection.
Ronan stood in the doorway, his face grim. "My lady, the hour grows late."
Elira dropped the last fold of fabric into the bag and turned to face him. "I know," she whispered, her voice raw. She crossed the room and met his gaze. "Why me? Why not Seris? Is she…"
Ronan's jaw tightened, his gaze flickering with something unreadable. He shook his head. The truth hung between them, unspoken.
Elira swallowed, the weight of it all pressing on her chest. "I will find the truth," she vowed, her voice steadier now, the resolve she had never known she possessed growing within her.
The journey from the palace to the cursed castle took little time, but each passing moment stretched on.By the time they left the palace, the moon was high, casting pale light over the land. Elira pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the carriage, feeling the chill seep through her skin. The forest stretched out before them, dark and heavy, the trees twisting like gnarled fingers, blocking the stars above. Something waited in the darkness.
**"***
The cursed castle loomed before her like a nightmare, its iron gates groaning as they opened. The air was thick with the scent of moss and decay, and the stone beneath her feet seemed to shudder with every step. There was no warmth here, no welcome. Only a cold oppressive silence. The doors of the castle creaked open of their own accord revealing a dark endless corridor.
Elira stepped inside, feeling the weight of the castle's ancient presence pressing against her skin. The stone walls were damp, the air stale and heavy. It was as though the castle itself was mourning, grieving for something long lost. Elira could feel it in the silence that enveloped her.
As she moved deeper into the castle, Ronan stayed close behind, his usual easy demeanor replaced with a tense stillness. Even he seemed to feel it.
Suddenly.a blind stewardess appeared, her footsteps silent against the stone. "You'll follow," she said, her voice like a whisper against the dark.
Elira nodded and stepped forward, every movement amplified in the hollow quiet.
The corridor stretched on, lit only by weak candelabras affixed to the walls. The flames flickered and fought against the air, casting strange shadows on the worn tapestries that hung like ghosts.
Elira kept walking, trying not to flinch as they passed a cracked mirror. Her reflection shimmered faintly, as though delayed by a breath. She looked at herself, but the woman staring back seemed… wrong. Not quite her.
The kept walking…
The stewardess brought her to a chamber, dark wood and velvet drapes that looked as though they had once been rich but had long since lost their vibrancy. The fireplace crackled weakly, offering no warmth, and the bed was untouched, as though no one had slept there in years. She stood there for a moment, unsure if she should enter.
The stewardess spoke again. "You are expected at dinner."
Elira glanced at her. "When?"
The woman turned and left, the door slamming shut behind her.
Elira was left alone. The silence pressed in on her, thick and stifling, as though the castle itself was listening. She ran her fingers over the dust-covered writing desk, her skin brushing against the ancient wood. There were books here ancient scripts, their pages yellowed with age. A few children's stories, abandoned. A music box that wouldn't open. And a window that looked out onto nothing but fog and the twisted shapes of trees.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her breath shaky, and tried to ignore the heavy feeling in her chest. This place wasn't just cursed. It was grieving.
********
Dinner came, but there was little to no warmth in it. The grand dining hall was cold, its stone walls too vast to ever feel comfortable. A long table stretched before her, half shrouded in shadow, a single candelabra flickering at its head.
Kael sat at the end of the table, his posture still and unyielding. He didn't rise when she entered. Didn't greet her. His hair fell over his forehead, a dark slash against pale skin. The scar down one side of his face was worse than she had imagined.
He didn't speak.
Neither did she.
The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy, as if the walls themselves held their breath. Every part of her screamed to leave, but she didn't move.
Finally, she broke the silence. "Ronan," she said, her voice sharp with the tension. "Join me."
Kael's gaze snapped to her, his eyes narrowing, not in hostility, but in something close to disbelief. Something like recognition.
But it passed quickly. His expression became cold again. He stood, his chair scraping the stone floor like a blade. The moment stretched on, thick with unease.
Then he stood and like a shadow, he vanished, slipping into the corridors without another word.
Ronan escorted her back to her chambers in silence, each step heavier than the last. The door closed behind her, and Elira finally exhaled, her breath shaky.
"He's…" she began, but Ronan only offered a quiet, gentle answer.
"Difficult," he said.
She crossed her arms, a bitter smile on her lips. "He looked at me like he knew me. Like he wanted me dead."
"Perhaps he did," Ronan said softly. "You remind him of something. Or someone."
"Lucky me," Elira muttered under her breath.
Ronan didn't smile.
Elira dismissed him and stood alone, the firelight casting long shadows across the room. The marriage had happened. The vows were done. Her fate had been sealed. She pulled a book from the shelf and sank into a chair, trying to escape into its pages.
But sleep didn't come. Not until the silence of the castle was shattered by a scream.