The dream felt too real to be a dream.
I stood in a wide, endless field — the kind that glows with light even though no sun is in sight. The wind smelled of honey and something older, something sacred. Every flower bowed with the breeze, except one at the center — tall, golden, and pulsing with light. It hummed.
I walked toward it without thinking. Each step felt guided, like the ground itself wanted me closer. When I reached it, I knelt and touched its petals — soft as silk, warm as skin. It shimmered under my fingers. I plucked it, though I didn't know why, and raised it to my nose. The scent was dizzying — sweet, sharp, ancient. Before I could stop myself, I tasted it.
Honey. And fire.
Then a surge — like lightning through my veins — swallowed me whole.
I woke gasping. The room was still, pale light leaking through the lattice windows. The prince lay asleep beside me, his breath steady. For a moment, I thought it was only a dream. But the air around me was charged, my skin prickling with warmth.
The Emperor's summons came to mind — a breakfast in his private wing, a meeting between brothers. A test, most likely. He'd said Prince Khalid could bring his favorite Khalifa, knowing full well he had only one — me.
His only.
And yet, never truly his.
I rose, my body oddly light, and crossed to the mirror. What I saw stopped me cold.
The woman in the reflection was not the one who had gone to bed last night. Her locs — my locs — were darker, longer, tumbling past my thighs. My skin gleamed like polished bronze, smooth and radiant. My thighs, my hips, my lips — fuller, richer. My eyes, once dark, now glowed with amber light.
It was me — and not me.
touched my arm. Warm. Real. I pinched. I even slapped. The woman flinched, mirrored perfectly.
A tremor ran through me — part awe, part fear.
"Iana?"
I turned. Prince Khalid stood by the bed, half-dressed, his silver robe falling open across his chest. His expression was unreadable — shock, wonder, hunger.
"Your Highness," I said, my voice lower than before, smoother somehow. "I do not understand it either. But… it is me." He stepped closer, slowly, as if approaching a flame. His gaze moved over me, not as a man claiming, but as one witnessing. His hand lifted, hesitated, then brushed one of my locs.
"Your hair," he whispered, "it's alive."
His fingers trembled. His breath caught.
"And your scent…" he murmured, eyes half-lidded. "Like a garden in paradise."
The air between us tightened — heavy with heat, with confusion, with something unspoken. He didn't touch me again, but I could feel the pull. The transformation wasn't just on my skin — it was in the space around me, in the air, in him.
I looked back at the mirror, hardly breathing.
What have I become?
And why do I feel… different?
Before I could breathe again, the air around me stirred.
It began as a tremor — a low hum that rose from the marble floor, deep and rhythmic, like the heartbeat of something ancient awakening. Then, without warning, life erupted.
Vines burst through the cracks between the tiles, spreading in curling waves that shimmered with dew. Flowers bloomed along the walls and climbed the bedposts — scarlet, gold, violet — colors too rich to exist in nature. Their petals unfurled with soft sighs, and the scent of honey and earth filled the room until the air grew heavy, intoxicating.
Prince Khalid stumbled back, eyes wide with both fear and awe. "How are you doing that?"
"I— I don't know!" My voice trembled. I looked down at my feet, now surrounded by blossoms that glowed faintly beneath my toes. "I don't know how to stop it!"
The prince's robe rustled as he moved closer, stepping carefully through the tangle of vines. The flowers didn't recoil from him — they leaned toward him, as though drawn to his warmth. He reached for me, his hand brushing my cheek, grounding me in the chaos.
"Iana," he said, voice low but commanding. "Look at me."
"I can't—"
"Look at me."
I did. And the instant our eyes met, something in me stilled. The air thickened, the hum softened, and for a heartbeat the world held its breath.
Slowly, the vines stopped moving. The blossoms folded in on themselves like obedient servants.
But as the quiet settled, another sound rose from within the silence — faint at first, then clearer. A woman's voice. Singing.
A melody so gentle and familiar that it sliced through me like a blade. I knew that song. My mother's lullaby — the one she sang when the nights were cold and the wind howled through the palace corridors of my childhood.
I hadn't thought of her in years. I had buried that memory so deep I thought it gone. Yet here it was, rising from the earth like these flowers, blooming in the cracks of who I used to be.
My knees trembled. The prince caught me before I could fall.
"Iana," he said again, softer now, eyes searching mine. "Until we understand this… no one must know. Do you hear me?"
The room still pulsed with life, the scent of blossoms thick enough to taste. "I'm not sure it's something that can be hidden," I murmured, staring at my reflection in the tall mirror. My skin gleamed like bronze under sunlight, my hair reached my thighs, and my eyes — ah! my eyes — glowed faint amber. I was terrifyingly beautiful.
He took my hands, pressing them firmly between his. His palms were rough from sword practice, but his touch was careful, reverent. "Promise me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
I hesitated. His eyes — storm-grey and resolute — held mine. For a fleeting second, the prince looked less like the Emperor's younger brother and more like the man I'd seen beneath all the armor. A man who feared what he might lose.
"Yes, Your Highness," I breathed. "I promise."
His shoulders relaxed, just slightly. He let go of my hands, but his warmth lingered.
Later, the room was cleared — the blossoms gathered and burned by the servants, though the sweet scent of them refused to fade. My maids moved quietly, eyes wide, whispering to one another in their native tongues. They didn't dare question the transformation, but their hands trembled as they dressed me.
The prince had sent orders for what I should wear — the finest silk and lace from his private stores. The gown was a deep crimson, threaded with gold that shimmered when I moved. Sheer fabric clung to my skin, revealing the gentle curve of my stomach and the faint mark that now glowed above my navel — the same mark that had appeared after I ate the golden flower.
Around my neck lay a collar of rubies set in gold, resting against my pulse. Ruby earrings brushed my shoulders. Gold cuffs gleamed on my wrists. Each piece felt heavier than it should have, as if weighed down with meaning I didn't yet understand.
When I stepped into the courtyard, the early sun poured over the palace stones. The air smelled of horses, jasmine, and distant sea wind. Khalid was already there, waiting beside two white stallions.
He looked like something carved from myth — tall, poised, the black and silver of his robe cutting sharply against his skin. The royal sigil — a falcon with spread wings — gleamed on his chest. His long dreads caught the breeze, glinting like polished obsidian.
He turned when he heard my steps — and froze.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. His jaw tightened. His gaze swept over me, lingered, then darted away as if ashamed of its own hunger.
"Too much?" I asked, trying for lightness, though my voice betrayed the tremor in my chest.
His lips parted, but the words came out rough. "It's… dangerous."
"Dangerous?"
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You don't see what I see. The Emperor—" He cut himself off and shook his head. "Never mind. Come."
He offered his hand. His grip was firm when I took it, steady, though I could feel the faint tremor of his pulse through our joined fingers. He lifted me onto the horse with ease, then mounted his own beside me.
From the courtyard gates, I could see the Emperor's wing rising in the distance — a fortress of white stone and red banners, shimmering under the morning sun. The path to it wound through gardens where servants knelt among fountains, trimming vines and scattering petals across the marble. Everything in this empire was built to impress, to remind us who ruled here.
As we rode, Khalid's gaze lingered on me more than once. His expression was unreadable — part awe, part worry, part something else entirely.
The wind tugged at my veil, brushing my lips with the scent of roses and salt. Beneath the silk, my skin still tingled with the memory of the power that had burst through me — alive, restless, waiting.
I looked at the horizon where the Emperor's palace gleamed like a blade, and a shiver rippled through me. Whatever I had become, it was no longer mine alone.
The world would know soon enough.