TREASON

Eighteen years locked in a gilded cage, and all I get is another gown. Not just any gown, of course—a diamond-encrusted, custom-stitched, magically-enhanced monstrosity my father-king Morvain- called a gift. The latest token in a long line of bribes to keep me quiet. Pretty things for a prisoner.

Today is my birthday. Apparently, I should be grateful I survived another year.

The dress hangs on a stand near the wall, its silver threads catching the dim magical light of my chamber. I don’t move to touch it. Instead, I stare at my reflection in the mirror—tight waist, long green kirtle, silver lacing down the sleeves. My white hair falls loosely over my shoulders, a sharp contrast against the emerald fabric.

If anyone saw me now, they’d mistake me for a commoner. Not a princess. Not the king’s secret daughter. But no one sees me. No one even knows I exist.

Except Susan.

My gaze flicks back to the dress. It glimmers like it’s trying too hard. Like it’s begging for approval. It reminds me of me. I scoff and turn away before the thought takes root.

I had begged my father for one thing—just a moment outside, just five minutes to feel real sunlight. Instead, he sent me a gown and kept the door locked. Again.

Why? Because of a prophecy.

Some idiot uncle foresaw danger if I lived, so the king—my oh-so-loving father—locked me away to protect me. From what? No one ever says. I was just a child when they threw me in this room. Now I’m eighteen, and nothing has changed.

The door creaks open.

Susan enters, carrying a tray of food. Her face is familiar and warm—wrinkled, kind, soft brown eyes that know all my moods. She’s wearing her usual uniform, the simple black and white of a palace maid, her white hair tied neatly in a bun.

“Petal, happy birthday,” she says, her voice sweet.

I narrow my eyes at her. “Happy?” I scoff. “What’s so happy about today? Another year locked in this room, not even a single window?”

She just smiles, unbothered, as if I’m some wild animal throwing a tantrum. “Oh, Petal, it’s for your safety.”

“Safety?” I step toward her, arms crossed. “The same safety that keeps me locked in here while my father doesn’t even bother to see me? And this—” I gesture toward the gown with disgust. “This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Susan hums thoughtfully, tilting her head. “The gown is beautiful.”

I narrow my eyes at her, with a sign she spoke again. “Yeah, sure. It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I sigh, frustration bubbling in my chest. “Susan, I can’t do this anymore. If I’m locked in here for another year, I swear I’ll lose my mind.”

She shakes her head, amused. “You said that last year too.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you—”

She gives me a look that screams you’re dumb.

“I’m getting old, honey.”

“You’re ol—”

“If that word leaves your mouth petal, it wont be any good for you.”

I clamp my mouth shut, staring at her.

She chuckles. “Petal, I’ll talk to the king today. I promise, I’ll get permission for you to leave your chamber. Even if it’s just for a few minutes.”

Hope sparks in my chest. Susan is the only person I’ve ever known other than my father, and unlike him, she actually cares. She has cherished me like her own daughter, though she regrets passing on her bratty attitude to me. She never fails to remind me how much I complain, but I know she understands. She has spent her life taking care of me, fighting for me.

And if I ever lose her…

I shake that thought away and hug her. She embraces me back without hesitation.

We eat together, gossiping like usual. She feeds me bits of castle news—the latest being that my older brother fell in love with a maid and got himself disowned. Apparently, he left without a care, saying, “I’ve been waiting to leave this creepy kingdom.” I agree with him. Completely.

Before leaving, Susan reassures me again. “I’ll convince the king this time. You’ve just turned eighteen. It’s time for you to step into the world.”

Excitement bubbles in me. Not because I’m eager to meet new people, but because I want to feel something beyond these cold walls.

The hours pass like they always do. Slowly. Agonizingly.

I cycle through my usual hobbies:

---Staring at the ceiling.

---Pacing until my feet ache.

---Reading aggressive books written by aggressive men, which Susan hates.

But today, something changes.

A scream.

I freeze.

For a moment, I think I imagined it. But then—another. Louder. Desperate.

My stomach plummets. I stumble to the door, slamming my hands against it. “Susan?” The screaming grows. I’ve never heard a single sound from outside this room before. But today—Today, something is wrong. I pound against the door harder. “Susan!” My breath comes out ragged. My hands shake.

No. No, no, no—

The door creaks. Opens just a crack. Susan stumbles inside.

My relief is instant—then gone.

She is covered in blood. A gaping wound in her stomach. Legs trembling. She collapses. The copper tang of blood slammed into me. It coated the air, thick and metallic, clinging to my throat like smoke. “Susan!” I drop beside her, my hands hovering uselessly. “What happened?” Her breath comes in shallow gasps. Her lips tremble. “They… betrayed us.” Her voice is faint. “He… he killed your father…”

I freeze.

I never loved my father. But he was still my father. Susan trembles beneath my hands. I try to lift her, to keep her here, but she shakes her head, eyes glassy.

“Raven,” she breathes. “I… I wanted to see you grow a little more. To see you be just a little more bratty to me.” She laughs, choking on blood. “But I can’t. I’m sorry, my little Petal.” Tears blur my vision. They slip down my cheeks, landing on her face. She lifts a trembling hand toward the wall, her magic flaring. A portal swirls open. “Go,” she whispers. “Live your life.”

I shake my head fiercely. “No. I imagined leaving a thousand times, but not without you.” The sound of boots echoes outside. They are coming.

Susan brushes my tears away. “My Petal.” Her voice is fragile. “Will you call me Mother? Just once?” A choked sound escapes me. I bury my face against her.

“You are my mother. I don’t need to say it.” She smiles.

“I love you, my Petal.”

“I love you too, Mother.”

A shadow looms beyond the door.

“I’m sorry.”

Before I can react, she shoves me into the portal.

“SUSAN—”

A sword flashes. It slices through her throat. Her body collapses. My world shatters. And just before the portal swallows me, I feel the aura of the one who did it.

They will regret it. There blood will stain my hands before this is over

The portal swallowed me whole, spitting me out into a vast, overgrown garden. My legs trembled beneath me as I stood, my gaze locking onto the grand castle in the distance. The air was thick with tension, and the ground beneath my feet felt strangely untouched—like a forgotten place lost to time.

This world outside the castle walls was more than I had ever imagined. The sun—the real sun—baked my skin, its warmth foreign yet intoxicating. The air buzzed with life, thick with the scent of earth and greenery. But even amid this strange beauty, there was no escaping the weight of what had just happened.

Susan’s death. My father’s death. My world crumbling in an instant.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks, my eyes drifting to the swirling portal behind me. Its light flickered, dimming, as if whispering a final farewell. There was no going back. I could never return to that life. The life that had locked me away like a forgotten secret.

“Live your life, my little petal.”

Susan’s voice echoed in my mind, a soft whisper that felt too real, too close.

I straightened, drawing in a sharp breath. She was gone. Susan was gone. But I wasn’t. I was still alive, whether I liked it or not. And I couldn’t let her sacrifice be for nothing.

I forced myself to focus, pushing past the throbbing in my head. My mind reeled, but I held onto the one thing I could rely on—my memory. Even without aura, I had something others didn’t. Photographic memory.

The images clicked into place. I was behind the castle. There was no clear path forward—at least, none that wouldn’t get me caught. But I knew where to hide. My father’s chambers. A place meant for times like this.

I moved, my steps light yet unsteady. Susan’s face flashed before my eyes with every step I took. She was gone, and I hadn’t even had time to grieve her.

The corridors of the castle were exactly as the paintings had shown—grand, elegant, untouched by the chaos outside. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, warming my skin. This was everything I had ever yearned for. Freedom. The outside world.

So why did it feel so dead?

I pressed forward, my legs weak beneath me. The first level of the castle was empty, eerily silent. But as I climbed to the second level, voices reached my ears—shouts, hurried footsteps, the sharp clanking of armor.

Soldiers. I moved swiftly, my heart hammering as I slipped past them, my body pressed against the cold stone walls. The air was filled with cries—maids and commoners being dragged from their hiding places, their screams ringing through the corridors.

Finally, I reached my father’s chambers. But the moment my eyes landed on the scene before me, my blood ran cold.

He was there. Alaric. His name burned in my mind like a curse

My father’s most trusted ally. His boot rested on my father’s pale, lifeless face, pressing down as if he were nothing but dirt beneath his feet.

And the worst part?

I felt nothing. No grief. No sorrow. No love. He had loved me—perhaps—but I felt no attachment to the man who had kept me locked away my entire life.

Alaric looked exactly as I remembered from the stories Susan had told me—medium-length hair, a bulky frame, his face marked with scars and a thick beard. A man once revered for his strength, his loyalty.But he had betrayed my father. His own friend.

I turned to run—but something crashed into me, invisible yet crushing. My breath hitched as an unseen force wrapped around my ankles, yanking me backward. He was sharp—too sharp.

I didn’t look back. I ran.

I reached the staircase, my breath ragged, my pulse roaring in my ears. Just a few more steps—A solid wall of energy slammed into me, blocking my path.

“Where are you running?”

A deep voice rumbled behind me.

His aura crashed over me like a tidal wave, suffocating, unrelenting. My knees buckled, and before I could stop myself, I collapsed onto the cold floor.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Then I was being dragged. The rough stone scraped against my skin, tearing through my clothes, burning with every pull. My heartbeat pounded against my ribs, wild and erratic.

Then—impact. I was slammed against the floor, the force knocking the breath from my lungs. My body ached, my limbs trembling, but I kept my eyes shut tight. “Open your eyes.”

His voice was a command, sharp and suffocating, like hands tightening around my throat. I clenched my jaw, squeezing my eyes shut harder.

The pressure increased. Air fled my lungs. My body screamed for breath, for relief, but it wouldn’t come. My mind blurred, and my instincts betrayed me.

My eyes snapped open.

Alaric smirked down at me, his gray eyes dark, filled with something cruel.

“Red eyes, huh?” His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“Look what I’ve found.” His voice dipped lower, smooth yet edged with cruelty. He took a step closer, his presence swallowing the space between us. “What are you?”

I remained silent, my gaze fixed on the floor. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t find out who I truly was—the hidden daughter of a fallen king. A royal by blood.

The moment I was born with red eyes, my family had rejoiced. Red eyes were a blessing, a symbol of the strongest aura, raw and unmatched. But blessings never lasted long. When I turned five—the age when children unlocked their aura—the priests had come to assess my power. But instead of a revelation, there was an explosion. I remembered nothing, only the aftermath. Susan had told me everything. The prophecy. The truth. My fate. I was aura-less.

A scream tore through my thoughts, yanking me back to the present. My head snapped up. A child, small and frail, was being dragged across the stone floor, his body already marred with bite marks and bloodied wounds. My stomach twisted.

Alaric’s smirk deepened as he glanced at the boy. I swallowed hard.

“Your Highness,” a soldier greeted, bowing slightly. “He tried to run, even after being given orders.” With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the child forward.

Before the boy could hit the ground, I caught him in my arms. He was barely conscious, his breathing weak, his small fingers curling against my sleeve. Even in his frailty, he clung to me.

“Oh?” Alaric’s voice was mockingly amused. “You like children?”

I said nothing, holding the boy tighter.

“But do you know what I like about children?”I felt his aura shift, and before I could react, something warm splattered against my face.

Blood.

My arms were empty. The child was gone. The world blurred. My breath hitched. My fingers, once curled protectively around him, trembled as crimson stained my skin. Pieces of him—unrecognizable, torn, and broken—lay scattered at my feet. “I like them best when they’re covered in blood and turned into pieces.” Alaric’s voice was sickeningly pleased. Panic surged through me. My fists curled tight, nails digging into my palms as my breath hitched. The phantom weight of the child still lingered in my arms, burning like fire. “Now, now,” Alaric mused, his tone almost playful. “If you’re angry, why don’t you show me what you can do?”I inhaled sharply, forcing my body to still. My hands remained clenched, my mind replaying Susan’s words:

“We are warriors. We will face horrors we cannot stop. But true warriors do not lose themselves to them.”

I am a warrior.

A warrior.

I glanced up. Whatever expression I wore must have pleased him, because his smirk widened, slow and predatory

“I’m aura-less.”

My voice was steady. Unwavering. Confident. His smirk faltered—just slightly—before his eyes narrowed. My fists clenched tighter.

“Red eyes but no aura? That’s rich.” He snickered, eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “You must be some kind of joke.” Then, slowly, deliberately, he stepped closer, closing the space between us. His fingers dug into my chin—hard, bruising. Pain flared along my jaw, but I refused to flinch. “I don’t feel your aura,” he murmured, studying me, “but that still leaves a lot of questions.”

I swallowed and met his gaze. “I’m the secret child of Susan and the king.”

He stilled. Then snorted. His grip loosened as he pulled away, head tilting back in laughter—loud, manic, echoing through the chamber.

“A secret child?” His laughter cut off abruptly, replaced by a sharp glare. “Do not play games with me.”

“What do you think?” I said, my voice calm yet edged with quiet danger. “If I weren’t royalty, do you believe I would be living in the castle rather than rotting in some poor house?” His gaze turned calculating, his amusement fading into something unreadable. Then, without another word, he looked to the soldiers standing nearby. “Take her to the maids. I will deal with this later.”

Hands seized me—rough, unrelenting. A sharp yank sent fire through my scalp as I was dragged through the corridor. My fingers tightened around my hair, nails digging into my skin, but I refused to cry out as they threw me into a chamber.

I tried to stand, but the moment I moved, a gentle hand touched my shoulder. I flinched.

“Hey,” a soft voice said. “It’s okay.”

I looked up.

A girl about my age. Chestnut-brown hair, striking blue eyes. Her fingers, warm and rose-toned, still rested on my shoulder. But when our eyes met, her breath caught. She stumbled back like she’d touched something cursed, her gaze wide with fear.

Around us, the other maids stared—silent, stiff, afraid. Fear clung to the room like smoke.

I reached for the girl instinctively. She flinched away.

“I’m not—”The words crumbled in my throat. I pulled back, swallowed the sting, and met their eyes. I told them what I told Alaric—about Susan, the prophecy, the blood. At first, they didn’t believe me. They asked questions—fast and sharp—but I answered them all.

Eventually, the air shifted. Wariness softened. The girl who’d first touched me stepped forward again and took my hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “For... how I reacted.”

I nodded once.

She led me to the corner of the room, where I collapsed against the cold stone wall. For a second, she just looked at me. Then, without warning, she wrapped her arms around me.

“I’m sorry about your mother.”

I nodded again, fighting the ache behind my eyes.

“I’m Halen,” she whispered.

“Ravenna,” I said. “Call me Raven.”

She held my gaze, then her hands gripped my shoulders just a little tighter.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

Her expression didn’t waver. Brave, even when I saw the tremble in her breath. “We wait.”

So I did.

We leaned against the wall—her arms still around me—and waited.

Minutes bled into hours. No one came. But the screams outside never stopped.

More maids were dragged into the chamber. Each time they saw me, panic set in. But Arina—the elder maid—always stepped forward, voice calm, presence steady. White-haired like Susan, though her sharp green eyes were colder. Her aura, unlike the others, moved freely. It wrapped around us like a shield. Soothing. Strong.

Halen stayed close. Always close. I couldn’t sense her aura, but her presence never left my side. I learned she was new. Younger than the rest. Quiet. A shadow that chose to stay in mine.

Even now, her head rested lightly against my shoulder, eyes closed.

Until the door creaked open.

Her eyes snapped open. The soldiers stepped inside, scanning the room. Their gaze landed on me.

“You,” one barked. “Come with us.”

Halen’s hand tightened around my shoulder.

I gave her a weak smile.

And stood.

The moment I moved, the soldiers seized my arms, dragging me through the corridors. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself not to react.

When we reached a dark wooden gate, they shoved me forward.I stumbled but caught myself just in time. As I glanced around, my stomach tightened—I knew this place.

The throne room.

It was exactly as the images Susan had shown me: towering ceilings adorned with intricate designs, the scent of aged stone and incense lingering in the air. At the far end of the hall sat a massive throne, and upon it—Alaric.

His piercing gaze locked onto me.

I forced myself to walk forward with steady steps. Rule number two, Susan had taught me: “Never panic, Petal. Never let your enemy see how broken you are inside.” She had always prepared me for the outside world, always hoped I would be free one day.

Alaric leaned on the armrest of his throne, his face resting against his fist. His head tilted slightly, studying me with something between curiosity and amusement. Beside him stood a man—watching me just as intently. I recognized the robes before I recognized his face.

A priest.

A sneer curled my lips. I really hate priests. As if sensing my thoughts, the priest turned to Alaric before stepping forward. His strides were slow, deliberate. His brown eyes never left mine. “Your Highness has commanded me to check your blood and aura,” he announced, his voice deep, steady. “To confirm your birth.”

The words cut like knives. I knew what that meant. If they checked my blood, it would prove beyond doubt—I was of royal lineage. Not some half-blood. Not some weak creature with no aura.

Aura is inherited from parents, usually dominant from one lineage. But sometimes… sometimes, a child is born with no aura at all. And that?

That is the greatest disgrace of all.

The priest extended his hand. “Give me your arm.”

I moved carefully, ensuring my hand did not shake. But stopping the tremors was harder than I thought. As the priest’s fingers hovered over my skin, I remembered what Susan said — aura wasn’t just magic; it was power. The stronger the aura, the higher your place in the world. If you were born without it... you were nothing. blue energy surged through the air, wrapping around me like unseen chains. The moment his aura touched me, a cold, invasive force seeped into my skin, crawling like ice through my veins. It slithered through my bones, searching, prying—digging into me as though it could unearth something I didn’t even know existed It seeped into my body, into my very blood, searching. I felt it pry into me. It was suffocating.

The pressure of his aura made my knees weak, but I stood my ground. I would not give him the satisfaction. After what felt like eternity, the energy receded.

My breath came ragged, my heart thundering against my ribs. I barely heard his next words. “Your Highness,” the priest finally spoke, turning back to Alaric. “She carries the blood of the king… but no aura.”

His next words made my blood boil.

“It is likely her weak aura was dominated by the maid’s.” I clenched my jaw. Susan was not weak. She was stronger than any of them. Stronger than these traitors who had switched allegiances so easily. But I kept my mouth shut.

Rule number three: “Never speak your mind unless it is necessary. Never let them know what you’re thinking. They will always be searching for a way to break you. Give them none.”

The priest continued, his voice thoughtful. “As for her red eyes… it is likely a late awakening. Or perhaps… merely luck.” His words felt like a slap. Alaric, silent until now, sat straighter. His cold eyes locked onto mine. “Well then,” he said. “I’d like to execute her.” Everything in me stilled. The air itself felt colder.

“But,” Alaric continued, his lips curving into something cruel, “she could serve a greater purpose.” He leaned forward. “If it is a late awakening, she may still be useful. And if not… she will serve as a tool.” His wicked smile made my stomach churn. Bold of him to assume he can use me.

“Until then,” he concluded, “she is no threat. She will work as a maid—under surveillance.” The priest dipped his head. “I will inform them, Your Highness.”

I took slow, steady breaths. Said nothing.

Alaric waved his hand, dismissing me.

But the priest didn’t move.

As I turned to leave, he looked at me again. And this time, he smiled.

A slow, unsettling smile.

Something inside me shook.