Some curses are born from Hatred. His was born from Love.
The first flower died in his mother’s hands.
It had been a white rose, freshly cut from the royal gardens that surrounded Ashborne Manor. Dew still clung to its petals as Lady Ashborne knelt before her youngest son, smiling despite the rain that had chased them indoors.
“For you,” she whispered, tucking the rose into the boy’s dark hair.
Twelve-year-old Kaelen frowned. “It looks silly.”
“It looks beautiful.” She brushed a strand of black hair away from his forehead before taking his small hand in hers.
The rose blackened.
Neither of them noticed at first.
The edges of its petals curled inward, turning brittle as frost spread through its veins. A heartbeat later, the flower crumbled into gray ash between Lady Ashborne’s fingers.
Silence settled over the room.
Kaelen blinked. “...Mother?”
She stared at the ashes in her palm.
The smile slipped from her face.
Behind them, the manor’s windows rattled.
A raven struck the glass.
Then another.
Then dozens.
The sky beyond the windows darkened beneath a storm of black wings.
The servants screamed.
One dropped a silver tray that shattered across the marble floor.
“The ravens...” someone whispered.
“They’ve returned.”
Lady Ashborne’s face had gone pale.
Not with fear.
With recognition.
“No...” she breathed. “No, no, no...” She grabbed Kaelen by the shoulders. “Listen to me.”
Her voice trembled in a way he had never heard before. “No matter what anyone tells you...” “...you are not a monster.”
He didn’t understand. “Mother?”
Heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor.
The doors burst open.
Royal knights flooded the room, swords already drawn.
Behind them walked an elderly man clothed in white robes embroidered with golden runes.
The High Priest. He looked at Kaelen only once. That was all it took. His expression hardened.
“So,” he said quietly. “It has awakened.”
Kaelen looked from one frightened face to another. No one would meet his eyes.“What awakened?” No one answered.
The priest stepped forward. “Your Grace,” he said to Lady Ashborne, “move away from the child.”
“He ismy son.”
“He is no longer only your son.”
Lady Ashborne stood. She placed herself between the priest and Kaelen. “I won’t let you take him.”
The priest sighed. “I prayed this day would never come.”
Outside, thunder split the sky.
The ravens screamed.
One by one, the flowers in the manor’s grand hall began to wither.
Red roses.
Lilies.
Lavender.
Every bloom bent toward the floor before turning to ash.
The servants fled.
The knights hesitated.
Only the priest remained still. “The Seal has chosen its vessel.”
Kaelen’s heart pounded. “I don’t understand.”
“You will.” The priest’s eyes softened for the first time. “And I pray you survive long enough toforgive us.”
By dawn...
House Ashborne had fallen.
Its towers burned against the gray morning sky.
People would spend years arguing about what happened that night.
Some claimed the Ashbornes had betrayed the Crown.
Others swore demons had descended upon the manor.
The truth disappeared beneath whispered rumors and carefully written lies.
Only one fact remained.
One child walked away from the ashes.
Alone.
By the following winter, every noble family in the kingdom knew his name.
Not as Kaelen Ashborne.
But as something far worse.
THE VILLAIN OF RAVEN COURT.
