They said mortals were lucky to be noticed by the fae.
But I learned long ago—being noticed is a curse.
I was four when the royals executed my parents. They called them rebels. The word tasted like ash, even now. I remember their heads bowed beneath the blade, the way the crowd screamed, and the royal guards smiled. My father's voice was the last sound I heard before the world went quiet.
I spent the next thirteen years trying to disappear.
At the orphanage, I was the quiet one—the girl who never spoke unless asked, who worked harder than anyone, who never made mistakes. I thought if I became invisible, the royals would never find me again.
But fate had other plans.
One afternoon, the orphanage sent me to the market. It should've been simple. I went, bought bread, and kept my head down. But when I looked up… he was there. A royal, watching me. His eyes lingered too long. His smile was wrong.
After that day, gifts started arriving at the orphanage—fine fabrics, gold coins, perfume that made the air heavy. The caretakers whispered, then smiled too much, and suddenly I was no longer invisible. The royal had chosen me.
He was old, powerful, and cruel. They said he wanted a mortal servant. I knew what that meant.
And so, the papers came. The deal was sealed. I would be sold.
Seris was the only one who didn't accept it. She was wild where I was cautious, brave where I was terrified. "We'll run," she told me, her hand gripping mine. "Before they come for you, we'll be gone."
So, two nights before my sale, we ran.
The night was cold, the air sharp enough to cut. We crept through the orphanage halls, hearts pounding in unison. Every creak of the floor felt like thunder. When we reached the outer wall, Seris found the crack she'd been working on for weeks—a narrow slit in the stone just big enough for us to squeeze through.
We slipped into the forest. The moonlight painted everything in silver and shadow. For a moment, I thought we'd done it. Freedom was so close I could taste it.
Then the horns blew.
My chest tightened. The sound came from behind, echoing through the trees. Guards. Fae guards. Seris grabbed my hand and ran, pulling me along. Branches tore at our arms and faces. My lungs burned, my feet ached, but I didn't dare stop.
Then the lights appeared—glowing armor, blades reflecting moonlight.
We were surrounded.
The guards shoved us to the ground. I thrashed, kicked, but they held me down with ease. My heart hammered in my ribs, loud and useless.
And then, he appeared.
He wasn't the old royal who had bought me. This one was younger, though still far older than I could guess. A royal by blood—you could tell from the way the air bent around him, from the silence that followed wherever he walked. His cloak dragged against the dirt, black as shadow. His eyes were gray, sharp, unfeeling.
"The mortal who tried to escape," he said, his tone calm but heavy with power. "You've insulted the royal houses. You'll be punished for it."
I couldn't breathe. The guards tightened their grip on my arms. Seris spat dirt from her mouth, glaring up at him. "It was my plan," she said. "She just followed me. Punish me if you must—but leave her out of it."
My voice broke as I cried, "No! Please! Don't hurt her! I'll go, I'll do anything you want—just don't touch her!"
He looked at me, and for a moment, I thought I saw something—hesitation, maybe. But it vanished just as quickly.
"Mercy," he said quietly, "is not something mortals earn."
He nodded once. The guards dragged Seris toward the cliff's edge.
I screamed until my throat burned. "Please! Stop! She didn't mean to! Take me instead!"
The royal didn't even look at me. He simply turned away as Seris fought against their grip, her eyes wide with terror.
"Lyra!" she shouted my name—once, desperate, final.
Then they threw her.
The world fell silent. I didn't even hear her hit the rocks below. The sound was stolen by the wind.
I crumpled, shaking, choking on my own sobs. The guards released me, but I couldn't move. My hands trembled so hard I could barely see them. My chest ached, and my head felt hollow.
Her scream echoed with my mother's. The cliff blurred with the memory of the execution square—the blood, the silver blades, the laughter of the fae. My parents. Seris. All gone.
And the royal—his calm expression, his quiet cruelty—burned into my mind like a scar I'd never escape.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was cold. "You'll be taken to the palace tomorrow. Try to run again, and you'll wish you'd joined her."
Then he walked away, leaving me kneeling in the dirt, surrounded by silence.
That night, I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just stared at the sky until the stars blurred and the pain hardened into something else—something sharp.
I had nothing left. No family. No friend. No hope.
But I still had breath in my lungs.
And I would use it to burn their world to the ground.
Because the only reason I was still alive… was to destroy them