Prologue | Veyra
The first thing I remembered was silence.
Not the kind you meet at night, when the world exhales and stars keep watch; this silence was rotting on my skin. The silence of a tomb that had been sealed too long. Far longer than it should’ve been.
I opened my eyes and the world bled into me. Dust settled over my lashes, vines swallowed what once had been walls, and a ceiling cracked wide open as if the sky itself had grown impatient with waiting. A faint rumble sounded above, as if the clouds were threatening to burst.
My body was foreign. Rigid. Bones like glass, veins filled with tar. When I tried to move, my limbs obeyed too slowly, like I was dragging chains I couldn’t see. My body was a cage, and someone else held the key.
But the cage was cracking.
I pressed my palm to the ground, skin splitting against the stone, and the sharp scent of blood filled the air. It felt almost holy—proof I was still alive. Proof I had been stolen, not slain.
I rose, unsteady, like a ghost re-learning the shape of flesh, and the whisper of memory brushed against me: laughter in a hall of thorns, fire curling from my fingertips, voices screaming what felt like my name like prayer or curse.
My eyelids felt heavy with tears worth years of despair. I looked down at my palms, flipping them and watching the pale skin appear almost translucent. Pale blue veins coursing through. My brittle hair fell down my shoulders, reaching my hips, swaying behind me as I stood up. I lifted my head, narrowed eyes staring at the ruins of the castle around me.
I was standing in a room that reeked of death.
But the world outside? It was alive.
Celebrating, probably. Splintering glass, wine passing each table, men and women feasting on belladonna—relishing in the fact that I was gone for good. After all, they were free of the curse that I was, right?
They took everything from me. Even though I couldn’t control it, they decided that stripping me of my consciousness was the best for this kingdom. If I couldn’t form a thought, if my brain was numbed enough that I couldn’t dream, I’d be less dangerous.
I scoffed.
They put me to sleep.
Bad choice.
They should’ve killed me.
Because now that I was awake? I was going to burn everything down to the pits of hell.
