POV: Ella
I pressed my palm against the cold stone wall of my chamber and counted my breaths. One. Two. Three. The trick usually calmed my racing heart, but not today. Not when my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"Princess Ella, please hold still!" Mireth, my head maid, tugged another silver pin into my hair, probably the twentieth one. "The Festival begins in an hour, and your father will be furious if—"
"I know." I dropped my hand and forced a smile at my reflection. The girl staring back looked perfect—silver hair twisted with white roses, skin glowing like moonlight. But inside, my stomach twisted into knots.
Today, I would officially become engaged to Theron Silverbow, High Commander of the Elf Guard. Everyone said I was the luckiest princess in the kingdom. So why did I feel like I was walking toward a trap?
"You look beautiful, Princess." Mireth stepped back, admiring her work. "Commander Theron won't be able to take his eyes off you."
That's what I'm afraid of, I thought, but kept smiling. Theron was handsome, powerful, and everyone loved him. Including my father. Especially my father.
"Thank you, Mireth. I'll go now."
I walked through the castle halls, my white dress sweeping the marble floors. Servants bowed as I passed. Some smiled. Others whispered behind their hands. I caught fragments of their conversations.
"—so young to be engaged—"
"—lucky girl, the Commander is—"
"—heard the King pushed for this—"
I walked faster, my heart pounding harder with each step. The grand doors loomed ahead, and beyond them, I heard the roar of thousands of voices. My people. All gathered to watch me seal my fate.
Father waited at the doors, his crown gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the windows. When he saw me, his stern face softened into a smile.
"My moonlight," he said, using his old nickname for me. "You've made me very proud."
"Father, I—" I wanted to tell him I wasn't ready. That something felt wrong. That Theron's smile never quite reached his eyes. But the words stuck in my throat.
"What is it, Ella?" His smile faded. "You're not having doubts, are you? The alliance with Theron's family is crucial for the kingdom. You understand that, don't you?"
Alliance. Not love. Not happiness. Alliance.
"I understand," I whispered.
"Good." He patted my shoulder, already turning toward the doors. "Then let's not keep your future husband waiting."
The doors swung open, and sound crashed over me like a wave. Thousands of elves packed the festival grounds, all cheering, all watching. Colorful banners snapped in the wind. Musicians played cheerful songs. Children threw flower petals that danced through the air.
It was perfect. Beautiful. Suffocating.
Theron stood at the center of the platform, tall and striking in his silver armor. His golden hair caught the sunlight, making him look like a hero from the old stories. When he saw me, he smiled—that perfect, practiced smile—and held out his hand.
I took it, because what choice did I have?
"You look stunning," he whispered, pulling me close. "Like a queen already."
"Theron, I need to talk to you about—"
"Not now." His grip on my hand tightened, just slightly. Just enough to hurt. "Smile, Ella. Everyone's watching."
So I smiled. I waved. I played my part while my father announced our engagement and the crowd went wild with celebration.
Then came the moment I'd been dreading.
"As tradition demands," Father announced, "Princess Ella will now enter the Sacred Grove alone to receive the trees' blessing. When she returns, she will be ready to rule as our future queen!"
More cheering. More music. More flower petals raining down.
I walked toward the Sacred Grove at the edge of the festival grounds. The ancient trees glowed with soft green light, their magic humming in the air. I'd been here dozens of times before. The trees had always welcomed me, their power flowing through my veins like warm honey.
But today, something felt different. Wrong.
I was almost to the entrance when Theron's hand caught my arm, pulling me aside behind a banner where no one could see us.
"Theron, what—"
"Listen carefully." His voice was low, urgent. "Everyone expects you to be the perfect queen, right? Beautiful, powerful, brave?"
"I suppose, but—"
"Then prove it." His blue eyes locked onto mine, intense and burning. "See that tree at the edge of the grove? The twisted black one?"
Ice flooded my veins. "The Shadowthorn Tree? Theron, that's forbidden. No one's supposed to—"
"Those are just stories to scare children." He laughed, but it sounded harsh. "Think about it, Ella. If you're truly brave enough to be queen, you should be able to touch it without fear. Unless you believe in fairy tales?"
"But the legends say anyone who touches it gets cursed. That their magic turns dark and—"
"Legends." Theron's hand moved to cup my cheek, gentle now. "I would never ask you to do something dangerous. I love you. You know that, right?"
Did I? His words said one thing, but something in his eyes said another. Something cold. Something hungry.
"Don't you trust me?" He leaned closer, his breath warm on my face. Then he kissed my forehead, soft and sweet. "Do this for us, Ella. Prove you're not just another weak princess who believes in ghost stories. Prove you're strong enough to stand beside me."
I should have said no. Every instinct screamed at me to run. But his words dug into all my deepest fears—that I wasn't strong enough, brave enough, good enough to be queen.
"I'll do it," I whispered.
Theron smiled, and for just a second—so quick I might have imagined it—something cruel flashed across his face. Then it was gone, replaced by that perfect smile.
"That's my brave girl. Go on. I'll wait here."
I walked into the Sacred Grove alone. The glowing trees welcomed me with their warm magic, but I barely noticed. My eyes were fixed on the back corner, where the Shadowthorn Tree twisted up from the ground like a wound in the earth.
It was completely black—bark, branches, everything. No leaves grew on it. No light touched it. Even the other trees seemed to lean away from it, as if afraid.
This is stupid, I thought. Just turn around. Tell Theron no.
But then I remembered his words. Weak princess. Ghost stories. Don't you trust me?
I walked closer. Closer. The Shadowthorn Tree seemed to pulse with darkness, like a heartbeat made of shadows. The air around it felt thick and cold, making it hard to breathe.
Just one touch, I told myself. One quick touch to prove I'm not afraid, then I'll go back and everything will be fine.
I reached out my hand.
My fingers were inches from the black bark when I heard it—a whisper, soft as silk, deadly as poison.
"Finally," the tree breathed. "I've been waiting for you, Princess."
My hand froze. The tree was speaking. Trees didn't speak. Not even magical ones.
"Ella Moonwhisper," it continued, and the voice sounded almost happy. "Daughter of moonlight, carrier of ancient blood. You were always meant to come to me. Always meant to awaken what sleeps inside you."
"No." I tried to pull my hand back, but I couldn't move. My arm was frozen in place, reaching toward the bark. "No, this is wrong. I need to—"
"Touch me," the tree commanded, and my hand moved forward on its own. "Complete what was begun generations ago. Become what you were always meant to be."
"STOP!" I screamed, but my fingers kept moving, closer and closer to the twisted black bark.
Behind me, beyond the grove, I heard music and laughter. My people celebrating. My father making speeches. Theron waiting.
And I realized with horrible, crystal clarity—Theron knew. He knew what would happen. He wanted this.
My fingertips brushed the Shadowthorn Tree's bark.
Pain exploded through my body like lightning made of darkness. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The world went black at the edges, closing in like a fist.
The last thing I heard before the darkness swallowed me completely was the tree's voice, laughing in triumph:
"Welcome home, Shadow Princess. Welcome home."