Pampered By All

"The fire rejected her. The shadows welcomed her."

The road to Velmoor twisted like a serpent through the northern valleys, steep ridges veiled in fog. It was colder than Isla expected. In the comfort of her cushioned carriage, she sat stiffly, arms folded tight across her lap, eyes fixed on the shifting mist outside. Her body was still. But her thoughts raged like a storm.

She replayed the fire trial in her mind, the moment the flames bowed to Elara. Again. And again.

Her nails dug into the velvet lining of her seat.

"She doesn't deserve it," Isla muttered. "I trained. I bled. I obeyed."

The carriage hit a bump, shaking her back to the present. A guard captain rapped lightly from outside.

"Princess, we're approaching the Duchess's manor."

Isla straightened. Her back ached from hours of tension. But her posture remained regal, her expression unreadable.

She was still royalty even if the fire had ignored her.

The gates of Velmoor groaned open.

Beyond them stood a fortress draped in creeping ivy and shadow. No soft arches or golden windows like the palace, this place was stone and scar, shaped by cold magic and older wars.

Duchess Alithia stood at the threshold.

She was nothing like Isla expected.

Old, yes. But not frail. Her eyes shimmered with pale violet light, and her steps cracked the frost beneath her slippers. Her voice was firm.

"Princess Isla," she greeted without bowing. "The fire left you. Now, you chase the shadows."

Isla flinched. "I came for knowledge."

Alithia nodded once. "Then follow. But leave your pride at the door. Shadow answers only to silence."

Inside the manor, cold drafts whispered through the stone corridors. Ancient tapestries covered the walls, showing forgotten wars and queens without faces. The air smelled of ink, dried herbs, and a faint metallic scent..

In a chamber lit by only three low candles, Alithia placed a silver bowl on the floor.

"Blood remembers what the mind forgets."

Isla hesitated.

Then, with a steady breath, she unsheathed a dagger and sliced her palm. Red drops sizzled as they touched the bowl.

Smoke rose instantly thick, dark, writhing.

Visions flickered.

A child training in the courtyard… a crown brushing a golden brow… her mother whispering behind a closed door…

Then—

A scream. Chains clanging. A baby wailing. A fire engulfed a chamber as a woman's voice cried out.

Isla stumbled back.

Alithia caught her. "You saw more than yourself."

"It wasn't my memory," Isla whispered.

"No. But it is your inheritance."

That night, Isla couldn't sleep. Her thoughts twisted like vines.

What had she seen?

Why did that woman look so familiar?

Why did it feel… true?

Back at the palace, Elara stood on the high balcony, gazing toward the north.

She could feel it.

A shift in the air.

A gathering of pieces.

Somewhere out there, Isla was awakening a different kind of fire.

And the story… the true story… was only just beginning.