Chapter 1
?──── Serenya ? ────?
My hands tremble, dripping my lover's blood as I lift the flute to my mouth.
I begin with his favorite song—the one we danced to at the first ball we attended together.
The notes falter, the blood causing my fingers to slip.
My breath is shallow, the tears fat and heavy.
It feels as if my heart has been ripped from my chest.
I close my eyes, trying to picture us dancing. His warm hands on my waist—mine draped around his neck. I see those storm-gray eyes, hear the melody of his laugh as he teases me, throwing his head back and ruffling his already messy blond hair.
I imagine leaning my head on his chest, listening to the heart that he said always beat for me.
Except...it's not beating.
Even in my own mind, I can't escape the brutal truth of what’s happened.
I play the final note, my fingers stiff and unsteady, and slowly open my eyes. I can’t stop them from drifting down to his lifeless body. A sob breaks free from my chest, raw and gut-wrenching. My stomach twists, and my chest feels hollow, aching as though I’m dying alongside him.
My arms feel heavy as I lift the flute once more, performing the stardust rite. My tears continue to fall, mingling with the mud and blood at my knees. Kallan’s body begins to shimmer, its edges blurring, before it dissolves into stardust, drifting away in the wind.
After the last note fades, I drop the flute, whispering, “Come back to me.”
When all the stardust has vanished and the weight of losing the only male I have ever loved presses down on me, the pain becomes too much to bear. I let out a scream that slowly dies into a sob.
My eyes shoot open as I sit up, gasping for breath, like I’ve just emerged from drowning.
Gods, I haven’t had that dream in years. Seems fitting I would dream of it on the anniversary of his death.
I toss off the plush white duvet and swing my legs over the edge of the bed.
Tugging open the dark green velvet curtains, I squint against the late morning sun that has already climbed high in the sky.
The light shines through the room, harsh and unforgiving, as if the world doesn’t care that I’m broken.
I’ve overslept, b ut I can’t find the energy to care. Not this morning. I just feel...numb.
Sighing, I slide into a simple violet gown and pin back my white hair, letting the black strands in front fall around my face. A knock sounds just as I’m sliding on my slippers. Torin doesn’t wait for a reply before stepping inside, wearing his black and gold guard uniform.
His bronze skin, wavy brown hair brushing his shoulders, and his six-foot-five height with his large muscle mass—from all his royal guard training—is a deadly, beautiful combination.
He was Kallan’s brother in everything but blood.
Their fathers had stood in the royal guard together, and their sons had followed them.
After we lost Kallan, Torin requested to take his place as my personal guard, and he has since become like a brother to me.
“Ready?” he asks.
“What’s the point of knocking if you’re just going to let yourself in?”
“You always take too long opening the door.”
I roll my eyes but follow him out of my chambers. We walk in silence through sunlit corridors, offering polite smiles to passing servants until we reach the mahogany doors of the High Council chamber. Guards push them open with a groan of hinges.
I step inside with my head high, the soft rustle of my gown trailing behind me. Torin shadows my steps, hand resting casually on his sword hilt.
The chamber smells of incense and old stone, sunlight filtering through stained glass. At the crescent table, in the middle of the room, sits the council of elders, commanders, and advisors. Sitting at the center of the table, in her gold crown and long red hair, is my mother, Queen Zephyra.
“Serenya,” she says. “Please, sit.”
I obey, folding into my black cushioned chair as Torin takes his place behind me.
Lord Cahir clears his throat. “We are meeting today to discuss the Trials of the Fated. As you know, Princess, they were set to begin next moon. However, due to King Thalon’s quickly declining health, we have voted to move the trials up.
They will begin this week. The champions will arrive tomorrow. ”
“Tomorrow?!” My chair scrapes loudly against the floor as I shoot to my feet. The walls seem to close in around me. I wanted more time— needed more time.
My mother gives me a disapproving glance.
My heart pounds in my chest, but I force myself back into the chair. Clearing my throat, I manage, “My apologies. Please, go on.”
“As I was saying,” Lord Cahir replies, his voice slow and deliberate, “there will be a dinner upon their arrival. The first trial will begin the following morning. As per tradition, we don’t give them time to prepare. It's a test of instinct and adaptability.”
My mother speaks next. “The dinner is so you may meet them and get to know them. The trials reveal what cannot be seen at first glance, but you will still get your choice of anyone who is still standing by the end.”
General Alis, voice deep and gravely, adds, “The dinner is no pleasantry . Observe them closely, Princess. What they do and don’t say will tell you more than any trial.”
I nod once. “What happens after the first trial?”
“They’ll have two weeks to recover and train,” my mother says. “The second tests strength, but more than that, resilience. We don’t want a king of muscle only. He must endure.”
“And the third?” I should already know these details, but I’ve been avoiding talking about the trials any time the topic comes up. It hurt too much to think about it. Now I regret not mentally preparing myself more.
A silence settles. My mother’s voice lowers. “After the second, they’ll have a month to prepare. The final trial will test them the most. We can’t say more than that. As you well know, you will also be participating. To prove your worth to your people.”
My fingers dig into my sweaty palms, and my shadows stir with unease.
“There will be a ball the night before,” she adds gently. “A final moment of peace.”
A ball. A chance to speak…or perhaps to say goodbye. Every second that goes by, it gets harder to keep my face neutral.
“They’re already calling this generation cursed,” a councilman mutters.
I square my shoulders, lifting my chin slightly. “Then we’ll prove them wrong.”
The meeting dissolves into talk of patrols and lodging. I think they may have even mentioned trades with Queen Elowen of Araluen, but my thoughts are on the men who will soon walk these halls. Strangers now. One of them, my future. Syltheriel’s future.
When I’m dismissed, Torin walks beside me. “They treat the trials like ancient scripture,” he mutters. “But it’s only a glorified way to choose someone to share power.”
“And yet, here we are,” I answer.
“Lucky you.”
I don’t reply, my gaze drifting to the clear blue sky beyond the windows in the corridor. “They think they are coming here for glory. They have no idea what they’re walking into.”
Torin’s brown eyes study me. “Do you even want one of them to win?”
I sigh as my shoulders fall forward. “Not exactly. No. But I do want them all to survive. I don’t want any more death.”
Silence stretches. Then he says, “I know what you need. Training. Come join Captain Merek and me.”
Merek. Kallan’s father. I’d also avoided him when I could. Guilt has kept me away.
But training might help quiet my thoughts. So, despite myself, I nod. “Alright.”
────────────? ? ? ? ?────────────
The clang of steel echoes in the training yard as I circle Torin with my blade raised. Merek watches with hawk-like eyes.
“Guard up, Serenya,” he barks. “Torin is quicker when you get lazy.”
“I’m not—”
Torin lunges, cutting me off. I barely twist in time to parry.
He grins. “You were saying?”
I answer with a sharper push, driving him back, but he pivots low, nearly sweeping my legs. I leap clear, landing lightly.
“Better.” Merek crosses his arms. “But you’re still letting him set the pace. You want to win? Take control.”
Torin bows mockingly. “Oh, by all means, Ren, take control.”
I narrow my eyes and slam my hilt against his guard. He stumbles, laughing.
Sweat drips down my spine as we trade blows. Torin fights fast and fluid , while I fight measured and precise. His grin only widens with every strike.
“Too rigid,” Merek calls. “You need to flow with him.”
I adjust, letting my stance loosen. When Torin lunges again, I hook under his blade and send him sprawling.
He lies there staring at the sky, then he barks out a laugh. “I regret teaching you half my tricks.”
Merek’s mouth twitches. “Good. That means she hasn’t forgotten how to fight.”
I extend a hand. “Up.”
Torin takes it, grumbling under his breath.
Merek studies me, approval in his eyes. “Again,” he orders.
I smile faintly. “Gladly.”
Torin was right. This is exactly what I needed. The weight in my chest eases with each strike, even as sweat soaks my leathers.
When it’s over, Torin hurries off to find my cousin, Alira—his other half. I linger, putting my blade away.
“You’ve still been practicing,” Merek says as he approaches. “I feared you’d given it up.”
I look down. “I come here sometimes to spar with Torin. When I get too…in my head…like today.” For a second, I wonder if today is still hard for him, too.
He gives me a soft smile, his blond hair and gray eyes so much like Kallan’s that it hurts. “You’re welcome here any time, Serenya. I won’t push. But we’d love to have you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods and strides away.
Instead of returning to my chambers, my feet carry me to the gardens. The scent of roses and wet stone fills the air, the palace walls almost hidden by the tall hedges. For a moment, it feels like another world.
The training helped. While I was in the ring, I could silence the noise and just focus on movement.
However, now my thoughts have become loud again.
Tomorrow, the champions will arrive. I will be expected to marry one.
To stand beside him, ruling together. That thought makes it hard to breathe, like someone has reached inside me and is squeezing my lungs.
By the time I arrive at the fountain in the center of the gardens, the last light of the sun ripples across the water. I stare at the water, not recognizing the reflection staring back at me. She looks tired, like someone who’s been haunted by a ghost for far too long.
I don’t want this. I don’t want vows only made out of duty. How can I be expected to give my heart to one of them when it will always belong to Kallan? How do I keep going when part of me is still stuck in the past, with him? How do I keep living when I’ve already lost what mattered most?
The thought of standing beside another feels wrong, like carving a lie into my skin only for the sake of duty.
I press my palm to the edge of the fountain’s cold stone.
His deep laughter echoes in my mind—light, careless, and full of warmth.
A sound that could chase storms away. I can still feel his smile brushing against mine.
He was more than just my love. He was my light in a world that never stopped trying to devour me. He was my safe place.
“Kallan,” I whisper, voice shaking. “I miss you…so much that it’s hard to breathe.
You said we would face everything together.
You promised I wouldn’t have to do this without you.
You promised. Why did you have to leave me?
” A lump forms in my throat. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
How am I supposed to get through it without you? ”
I thought time would make it easier to breathe without him. But every year, every month, every day, it feels just as sharp and painful, as if he’s been taken from me over and over again.
My shadows curl around me, trying to comfort me even though I know they miss him, too. A breeze stirs, making rose petals scatter across the water. Among them, a single golden leaf drifts down, spinning gently as it falls.
My chest constricts as I watch it. The leaf doesn’t belong here among the petals. It’s too early in the season for leaves to fall. But here it is. Bright, beautiful, and alone.
I stare at it until my vision blurs, but no tears come. They never do. I haven’t been able to cry in years. The pain sits heavy in my chest, a constant pain that makes it hard to breathe. Yet, at the same time, there’s nothing—only emptiness. Just a shell of who I used to be.
It’s been twenty-eight years. Half my soul was torn away that day. Nothing has filled that void since. I don’t think anything ever will.
I turn from the fountain, keeping my gaze down, refusing to look at the stars we once spent many nights watching together. I can’t bear their light without him.
Slowly returning to my chambers, I bathe in silence, letting the warmth soak into my bones, but it does nothing to chase away the cold inside me.
When I’m done, I slip into bed.
I lie awake, eyes fixed on nothing. I’m not sure how long I linger in that in-between state, but eventually, exhaustion pulls me under. It isn’t rest. It’s surrender.