---
SYNOPSIS (VEIL OF THE FORBIDDEN)
---
*Synopsis:*
In the shadowed realms where blood and power reign supreme, *Lyanna Vale* —she is the catalyst of a war centuries in the making. Haunted by a past she cannot remember, her fate is entwined with three deadly kings whose obsession with her threatens to unravel kingdoms and sanity alike.
*Alaric Blackthorn*, the merciless vampire king, will tear through hell itself to claim her as his bride, binding her to a destiny drenched in darkness and blood. *Draven Pyrelis*, the brooding dragon king and Alaric's vengeful half-brother, harbors a deadly secret that could ignite the fragile peace into all-out destruction. *Ronan Fenwold*, the savage lycan king, walks the razor's edge between savage protector and relentless predator, desperate to shield Lyanna from enemies she cannot yet see.
But Lyanna's power is a dangerous secret—one that could tip the scales of war and doom them all. Betrayals run deep, alliances crumble like ash, and love twists into torment. As shadows gather and madness looms, Lyanna must embrace the darkness within—
---
*CHAPTER ONE – THE CHILD OF THE PROPHECY*
The skies over Eldoria bled with lightning as the wind howled like a creature in mourning. Rain lashed at the rooftops of the old stone houses, baptizing the land in an omen. The villagers murmured behind shuttered windows, whispering about the prophecy—the one foretelling the birth of a child who would unearth secrets even time dared not touch.
Inside a secluded cabin deep in the western woods of Eldoria, screams sliced through the storm.
"Push, Seraphina! She's almost here!" the midwife urged, her weathered hands slick with blood and sweat.
Seraphina clung to the bedsheets, her raven hair clinging to her face, drenched in perspiration and tears. "It's too soon! The seventh hour—has it passed?"
"No," the midwife said, casting a fearful glance at the ticking bronze clock. "It is now. The seventh hour of the seventh day in the seventh month. The prophecy—"
Another cry erupted from Seraphina's lips, cutting the woman off. The air inside the cottage thickened, almost vibrating as the moment approached. Something ancient stirred, invisible to the eye but chilling to the soul.
Then, with one final push, the baby was born. The midwife lifted the child—screaming, alive, and wailing into the storm.
"It's a girl," she whispered. "Born exactly at the seventh hour."
The rain outside fell harder.
Seraphina wept, holding the warm bundle to her chest. "Lyanna," she breathed. "My Lyanna. You will be light in a world drowning in shadows."
But someone else was already watching.
From the shadows near the doorway stood *Duke Cedric Vale*, the child's father—and a man whose loyalty to the vampire king, Velrathis, outweighed any moral conviction. Cloaked and brooding, his face was unreadable as he watched mother and child bond under flickering candlelight.
"You came," Seraphina said, her voice weary but hopeful. "She's perfect, isn't she?"
"She is… more than perfect," Cedric said.
But the tenderness in his eyes dimmed as he took a step forward. The midwife retreated instinctively. Cedric reached into his coat, pulling out a velvet cloth.
"What are you doing?" Seraphina whispered, sensing the shift.
"It is not safe for her here. You know what her birth means," he replied tightly. "If the wrong ears catch wind of this—"
"She is safer with me!" Seraphina cried, clutching the baby to her breast.
"She is safer where I can protect her," he said, and before Seraphina could scream, two guards entered the room. Cedric snatched the child from her arms.
"No—No! Cedric, please!" she shrieked, reaching out, but the guards held her back. "She's all I have! Don't take her from me!"
"I'll make sure she's cared for," Cedric said, but his voice faltered. "She'll be hidden—raised as a Vale, but in shadow."
"I curse you!" Seraphina wailed, collapsing as the child was wrapped and taken into the storm. "I curse your name, Cedric Vale! She will remember me—no matter how deep you bury the truth!"
Her cries echoed through the cabin, swallowed by thunder.
***
By dawn, the Vale Mansion—nestled deep in Eldoria's capital—buzzed with secret movement.
Duchess *Elara Vale*, noble and cold, stood at the grand staircase, her silk robe trailing behind her like an elegant serpent. Her green eyes narrowed as Cedric entered with a soaked bundle in his arms.
"What. Is. This?" she demanded, already knowing the answer.
"A child," he said simply.
"I see that. And the mother?"
"She was a mistake. This child… is the consequence."
Rowena Vale, their three-year-old daughter, stepped into the hallway with her older brother *Sebastian*, watching the exchange from behind a carved pillar.
"Is she going to live here?" Rowena asked, her voice icy.
"She'll remain unseen," Cedric said. "Her name is Lyanna."
Duchess Elara's lips curled into a scowl. "You expect me to raise your bastard child under this roof?"
"I expect you to remember your place," Cedric snapped. "This child is more important than you understand."
Elara inhaled sharply, fury dancing in her eyes—but she said nothing.
"From this day on," Cedric declared, "Lyanna will be treated as a ward of the house. She is not to be spoken of publicly. She will live in the east wing, and no visitors are allowed."
"And what of her mother?" Sebastian asked quietly.
"She no longer matters," Cedric replied.
And thus, Lyanna Vale grew up in the shadows of the grand mansion, her existence known to only a few. A ghost among the living. A spark buried beneath stone.
***
Back in the forest cottage, Seraphina lay in bed—empty, broken, and silent.
Her midwife placed a trembling hand on her shoulder. "You must rest…"
But Seraphina's eyes had hardened. "He will pay for this. Eldoria, Velrathis, all of them. One day, my daughter will walk through fire—and the world will burn with her."
But Seraphina's eyes had hardened. "He will pay for this. Eldoria, Velrathis, all of them. One day, my daughter will walk through fire—and the world will burn with her."
Lightning forked across the sky.
And somewhere deep in the mountains, far beyond mortal reach, an ancient power stirred—sensing the child's arrival.
The prophecy had begun.