The words Rayan had spoken clung to Amara's skin like ice. Written in blood.
She had demanded answers before, but never had the weight of his silence pressed so heavily on her chest.
Now, as she stood in the shadowed corridor outside their chambers, she could hear voices rising from the council hall below. The house rarely stirred at this hour unless something urgent demanded it.
Rayan touched her arm. "Stay here."
Her chin lifted stubbornly. "I'm not staying behind again."
The fire in her eyes left no room for argument. He exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair, before turning toward the grand staircase. "Then follow closely. But don't speak—yet."
The marble floor chilled her bare feet as they descended. Torches flickered in golden sconces, their light pooling across grim faces. The elders were already gathered around the long obsidian table, their robes falling heavy with age and authority.
An elder with a voice like gravel intoned, "We can't delay any longer. The bloodline debt must be addressed. Fate has moved, and the signs are undeniable."
Another leaned forward, eyes glinting with accusation. "And she is already here among us. The girl."
Amara's stomach tightened. Every gaze shifted toward her.
She wanted to shrink back, but Rayan's hand brushed hers discreetly beneath the table, steadying her.
"What debt?" Rayan's voice cut through the room, low but edged with steel.
The eldest of them all, Lady Seris, raised her head. Her hair was silver, her eyes cold as untouched snow. "You know what was promised generations ago. Your house swore loyalty through marriage, but betrayal tainted the pact. The curse was bound by blood. And now…" She looked directly at Amara. "Now the blood has returned."
The torches sputtered as though responding to her words.
Amara's pulse thundered. She tried to steady her voice. "You speak of betrayal—but whose blood is it that binds me here? Mine, or his?"
Whispers rippled across the chamber like snakes slithering through dry grass.
One elder muttered, "Her mother carried the stain."
Amara's breath hitched. My mother?
She glanced at Rayan, but his jaw was tight, his expression locked into the same stoic mask he always wore when fury simmered beneath.
"We will not," he said darkly, "hold her accountable for crimes she doesn't even understand."
Lady Seris tilted her head. "Then teach her, Rayan. Because if she is truly bride and key, the hourglass is running out."
The words struck Amara harder than any blade could. Bride and key. Again, the phrase that stalked her nights.
But worse was the implication about her mother—a woman she barely remembered beyond fragments of warmth and lullabies, now painted with betrayal.
The council chamber fell into tense silence before one elder finally declared, "This meeting is adjourned. But make no mistake—the bloodline demands payment."
The gathering dissolved, robes sweeping across the floor, murmurs vanishing into echoing halls.
Amara stood frozen, her heart a storm. "Rayan," she whispered, "what did they mean about my mother?"
For once, his gaze faltered. He brushed past her without answering, leaving her in the cold glow of the torches, more alone than she had ever felt.
---
The torches dimmed behind him, but Amara did not move. Her body was rooted to the cold floor, her mind whirling like a storm. My mother… betrayal… a bloodline curse.
The words left her trembling. She had grown up yearning to know more of her mother, clutching the fragments her father had left unspoken, weaving stories in her heart. Never once had she imagined her mother's name whispered in council halls with venom.
Sleep abandoned her that night. Instead, she found herself drifting through shadowed corridors until she reached the one place she thought might hold answers—the family archives.
The door was locked, of course. But fortune, or perhaps fate, willed that the night servant forgot to fasten it properly. The iron latch gave way with a soft click, and Amara slipped inside.
Dust and parchment greeted her. The shelves stretched high, heavy with ledgers, scrolls, and records bound in leather. The air smelled of old ink and secrets left to rot. She lit a small lamp and began her search.
Her fingers traced the spines until one cracked volume caught her eye: "The Covenant of Ashen Veins." The title itself sent shivers down her arms. She pulled it free, coughing as dust billowed.
The text was written in jagged script, the ink faded with age. Yet the words still burned:
"The debt shall be paid when the bride's blood and the key's heart align. For betrayal born of love, only betrayal undone may sever the chain."
Her lamp flickered as she read the passage again and again. Bride's blood. Key's heart. Betrayal undone.
The phrases twisted like knots in her mind. And then her breath caught at the name inked in a corner: Elara Veylen.
Her mother.
Her trembling hand skimmed lower where the script grew sharper: "She broke the pact when she chose her heart over her house. Thus, her child shall bear the mark of the unfinished vow."
Amara staggered back, clutching the book to her chest as if it would stop the pounding in her ribs. Her mother hadn't been just a victim of fate—she had chosen. Chosen love, perhaps, or chosen rebellion. And now Amara bore the punishment.
"Why are you here?"
The voice nearly made her drop the lamp.
A figure stepped from the shadows between the shelves. Tall, lean, his features sharper in the flickering glow—Caius, one of Rayan's most trusted knights. His eyes narrowed, glinting with curiosity and something darker.
"You shouldn't be in these archives," he said, advancing slowly. "Only the blood heirs are permitted."
Amara clutched the book tighter, her voice shaking. "Then perhaps I am one."
For a long heartbeat, the only sound was the flame hissing against the oil. Then, unexpectedly, Caius smiled. Not kindly—coldly, as though he'd been waiting for her to say it.
"Exactly," he murmured. "And that's what makes you dangerous."
He moved closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Be careful, Amara. Sometimes the truth doesn't set you free. Sometimes it tightens the chains."
He brushed past her, vanishing into the shadows, leaving her with the ancient book, her mother's name, and more questions than she could bear.
---
❓️❓️❓️❓️❓️
If you were Amara, would you confront Rayan immediately with the truth about your mother—or keep it hidden until you could uncover the full prophecy yourself?