Unblessed

Chapter 1

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We were raised under one immutable law. Never speak of the Fire People. If you meet one, you run. If you even whisper their name, you die.

It is the first lesson every child of Ellopia learns - sung in lullabies, recited in classrooms, etched into the marble of the temples.

The Fire People are evil. Murderers. They slaughtered our kind, twisted their bodies into horrors, burned our cities until the sky itself bled. And if you dare to question that truth, you are marked a traitor - no better than them.

According to my father, the only reason we survived that war was because of the Sea - our Mother, our savior. Water consumes flame. That is how the Fire People were driven to extinction.

We, the people of Ellopia, are the Children of Water. After the war, the Great Mother blessed our ancestors with her gift - her pulse flowing through our veins, her power filling our lands. It is what keeps us alive, what keeps the world from crumbling back into fire and dust.

Without her, we would be nothing. We would be dead.

“Princess Luna.” The voice pulled me from my thoughts. “The King requests your presence in the council chamber. Immediately.”

Something was wrong. Father rarely summoned me to council - only twice before. Once during the great plague, when half of Ellopia was buried in a single week, and another when one of his advisors had insisted I attend. That man was replaced the next morning. Replaced - a graceful word for what truly happened.

“Thank you, Joseph,” I said softly. The old messenger bowed. He’d served in this palace since before I was born - I remembered his voice guiding me through these halls when I was a child running barefoot through the corridors.

I left my chambers, the heavy doors closing behind me, and stepped into the endless marble maze of the royal wing. No matter how many years passed, the palace still managed to confuse me. Too many staircases, too many secret doors and hidden passages that led to places one was not meant to find. It was said that one wrong turn could take you outside the city walls entirely.

As I descended the spiral stairs, servants halted to bow, murmuring Your Highness as I passed. The blue crest embroidered on my gown - the sigil of Ellopia - made my identity impossible to mistake.

When I reached the council chamber, voices were already rising beyond the door.

Arguments. Again.

I pushed it open.

The vast circular room smelled faintly of incense and salt. Around the round marble table sat five of my father’s advisors, their expressions sharp with irritation. At the head of the table was my father - the King of Ellopia - his features carved into a mask of regal restraint. Only when his gaze fell upon me did the tension in his jaw ease, if only slightly.

I had long perfected that same mask - years of mimicking it had taught me how to wear indifference like armor.

“Silence,” my father commanded, his voice slicing through the noise. The advisors froze instantly, turning to look at me with varying shades of disdain.

“Princess Luna of Ellopia,” the messenger announced, and the advisors rose in unison.

That was me - Luna, Princess of Ellopia. Daughter of the first King to rule after the war. The man who, with the Mother’s blessing, rebuilt a shattered world.

“Princess Luna,” my father said, motioning toward the vacant seat beside him. “You must be wondering why you’ve been called here.”

As I descended the marble steps, the advisors followed suit, each retaking their seat with reluctant obedience.

“We were discussing certain… changes that have occurred recently at the Lakes,” he continued, his tone careful. “To understand them, we must first recall our history.” I frowned. History? Surely this couldn’t be the reason for my presence. Every soul in Ellopia knew how the war had ended - especially the King and his council, who prided themselves on being the most educated in the realm. I searched my father’s eyes for a hint, a silent message - but they betrayed nothing. “Luna,” he said evenly, “would you remind us how the war ended?”

I stood straighter. “Mother saved us. Where our people were tortured, the ground turned to water. The Fire People drowned beneath her wrath. Those who fled were hunted down by raiders. From those ruins rose the Three Lakes.

“The Hotlake - scalding, impassable, said to burn because of the sheer number of Fire dead buried beneath its surface. The Eternal Lake - the Mother’s heart, the source of all life. And finally, the Starlake, whose waters reflect the heavens themselves. It is said to mark the border between Ellopia and the Forest of Torment. None who have entered those woods have ever returned.”

My father’s eyes gleamed with pride. He never spoke of the war willingly, always brushing away my questions with the same phrase: The past belongs to the dead. The future is yours to shape. “Yes,” he said now, voice low with reverence. “The three lakes are our kingdom’s lifeblood. The Eternal Lake sustains us. The Starlake shields us. The Hotlake defends us. But…” He paused. “…there has been a disturbance.”

A chill climbed my spine. “The temperature of the Hotlake has been falling. Healers claim the Mother’s power is fading. For now, the change is gradual - centuries may pass before it loses all warmth - but the signs are undeniable.”

Centuries meant nothing to us. My father had lived for hundreds of years. I would too. A slow death was still a death.

“What can be done to stop it?” I asked. “Can the Healers restore her blessing?”

He shook his head. “They have tried. The lake no longer allows them near. Whenever someone enters, it burns again - violently. But the moment they retreat, it cools. It reacts… to the Mother’s bond within them.”

And then I knew. I felt the words before he spoke them.

“Luna,” he said softly, “you are the only one without a bond. You alone can enter without awakening the lake’s rage. We want you to oversee the investigation.”

The world seemed to tilt. He was right - I was the only one untouched by the Mother’s gift. I remembered the day of the Choosing as if it had just happened. I was five, trembling in my ceremonial robes, surrounded by whispers of greatness. I was the King’s daughter, the kingdom’s heir - destined for power, for magic.

But when I stepped forward… nothing came. The Mother turned her gaze from me. Unblessed. That was the word they used. A disappointment to my people, a stain on my mother’s pride. She had begged my father to replace me - to try again for a worthy heir. Many said I should have been killed that day, that the King’s mercy had cursed us all. And perhaps it had.

Chaos erupted around the table.

“How can you let her tainted skin touch sacred water?” Advisor Garen roared. “No offense, Your Majesty!”

Another, Daran, slammed his palm against the table. “You risk angering the Mother herself! We will all be damned!”

Only one voice rose above the din - sharp, female, and fearless. “Fools! She is our only hope!”

My father lifted his hand for silence. “Elisandra and Arwan are in favor. Garen, Ellorial, and Daran are opposed. Three to three.”

His gaze turned to me. “The choice is yours, my daughter.”

Did I want to accept? No. If I failed, they would despise me more than they already did. But if I refused - if I let the lake die - I would be the reason our world fell.

I looked around the room. Their faces were expectant - waiting for me to decline. Waiting for me to prove them right.

I straightened my shoulders. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” I said clearly. “It would be my honor.”

The silence that followed was absolute. Then, slowly, my father smiled - a rare, genuine smile that softened the lines of his face. Pride flickered in his eyes, fragile and bright.

Garen, however, looked moments away from bursting.

“It is decided,” my father said. “You will depart in one week for the Hotlake. A team of guards and healers will accompany you.”

My heart sank. Guards. Healers. Babysitters. I loathed the idea of traveling surrounded by people who would call me Your Highness every time I breathed. I opened my mouth to protest, but my father’s tone turned final. “You are dismissed.”

One by one, the advisors rose and left, their robes whispering across the marble floor. When the last door closed, I exhaled and collapsed back into my chair.

“Father,” I began, but he lifted a hand.

“Don’t.” His voice was tired, the weariness of centuries pressing behind it. “I know what you’re going to say. The escorts stay. The forests are swarming with rebels.”

“But - ”

He slammed his fist against the table. The crack of it startled even him. For a moment, he wasn’t my father - he was the King. Then, softer, “Forgive me, Luna. The advisors were difficult to persuade. Garen and Daran opposed you from the start. Arwen and Elisandra saw reason. As for Ellorial…” He sighed. “He is unpredictable.”

“I understand,” I said quietly. “And I won’t let you down.”

He nodded. “We will speak again before your departure.”

I turned to leave.

“Luna?” he called, just as I reached the door.

I looked back.

His gaze was sharp now, unreadable. “Try not to fail.”

For a heartbeat, I thought he might have said I’m proud of you.

But of course, he hadn’t.

“I won’t, Father,” I whispered - though I wasn’t sure if I believed it.

“Why did you say yes? This isn’t really your thing,” Aquata asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and disbelief. Aquata Solace was my best - and only - friend in the palace. She was small and radiant, with a kind of beauty that seemed effortless: a tumble of golden curls that framed her face and eyes the color of morning skies over the Eternal Lake. Everything about her seemed to shimmer, from her laughter to the way people’s gazes lingered as she passed. She was the kind of person who belonged in a place like Ellopia - graceful, luminous, blessed.

“I know it’s not,” I murmured, absently twisting the blue ring on my finger. The gemstone caught the sunlight spilling through the open balcony, scattering faint waves of color across the marble floor. It had been a gift from my mother on my seventh birthday - before I realized that gifts from her were meant to feel like reminders. “It’s just… I’ve never seen my father that desperate before.”

“Wow,” Aquata said, her whole face lighting up. “I wish I could go too. I’d give anything to get out of this palace. There are so many places one can visit! Do you think they’d let me come? Please, Luna - imagine the fun we’d have!”

I smiled faintly. Her enthusiasm was infectious, even when mine had long since burned out. “I wish you could,” I said honestly. “But I’m not going there for sightseeing. I don’t even know if I can pull this off.” I sighed, resting my elbows on the stone railing. Below us, the gardens shimmered in shades of silver and blue, the waterfalls humming faintly in the distance like the Mother’s heartbeat. “And there will be guards escorting me. Father says it’s for my safety, but I think he just wants them to supervise me.”

“Good for you. Guards are hot,” she said without hesitation.

I turned to her, incredulous. “No, they are not. And you can’t even hold a conversation with them without enduring an hour - long monologue about their own heroics.”

Aquata grinned, utterly shameless. “Who cares about talking? They’re good kissers. I can one hundred percent guarantee that.”

I shook my head, laughing under my breath. Aquata could afford to speak like that. She wasn’t a princess. She didn’t have expectations weighing on her shoulders or whispers following her down the hallways. She wasn’t unblessed. “Well, I’m not planning on kissing anyone,” I said dryly.

She squinted at me, suspicious. “Do you even like men?”

“What?” I choked out, turning to her with wide eyes. “Yes, I like men. What would make you think otherwise?”

Aquata gave me that look - the one that said she found me both amusing and exasperating. “Come on, Luna. As far as I know, you haven’t dated anyone since you were fourteen. You’re eighteen now. You have to live your life a little.”

“And what am I supposed to do?” I countered. “Hook up with the first guy I see? Be serious, Aquata. You know no one actually likes me.”

“That’s not true,” she said immediately, but her voice faltered just slightly.

“Then prove it.” I didn’t mean for it to come out so sharp. But it did, and the silence that followed stretched thin between us.

Then her eyes widened, her mouth parting in an exaggerated gasp. “Okay,” she whispered, “I’ll tell you something - but you have to act natural.”

That tone. That look. I’d seen it before, right before every one of her bad ideas. “Aquata,” I warned.

“Don’t look behind you,” she hissed, ignoring me completely, “but a really cute guy is looking at you right now.”

Of all the things she could have said, that was the last I expected. My stomach dropped. Of course, I turned immediately - because apparently, I was incapable of taking advice.

And then I saw him.

Black curls framed his face in loose, untamed waves. His eyes - an impossible shade of blue, sharp and cold as glacial water - met mine across the courtyard. For a heartbeat, everything else fell away. Then recognition hit.

“This is Ellorial,” I said quickly, spinning back to face her. “He’s not looking at me because he likes me, Aquata. He’s one of my father’s advisors. He probably thinks my ‘unholy presence will offend the Mother.’” I mocked the way the other advisors spoke, tilting my chin in arrogant imitation.

“Wait,” Aquata whispered, sneaking another glance. “Since when are advisors so young - and so hot? He looks like he’s barely older than us.”

“He looks like he is,” I corrected. “He isn’t. The Turning is in a year.”

The Turning. It was the ritual that came at nineteen, when the Mother’s blessing would halt your aging and stretch your life into centuries. Some lived a thousand years afterward, untouched by time.

Aquata made a thoughtful sound. “I’ve never seen him before.”

“Me neither.”

She let out a dreamy sigh. “He looks really hot.” Her gaze lingered far too long on his arms - strong, defined, the way his coat fit perfectly across his shoulders.

“Aquata,” I warned, trying not to laugh.

“What?” she asked innocently, though the corner of her mouth twitched.

“No. No, and absolutely no,” I said, hands on my hips. “He’s an advisor. You do not want to get tangled up with him.”

“Fine, I won’t,” she said sweetly.

I arched a brow.

She sighed. “I won’t, all right? I promise. But you really are no fun.”

“Well, here you are, still hanging out with your not - so - fun best friend,” I said, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips.

Aquata giggled, the sound bubbling through the air like something bright and unbreakable. And for a brief moment, the weight of my father’s words, the council’s judgment, the mission ahead - all of it - faded into something almost bearable.

The laughter between us echoed off the marble walls, fleeting and fragile as seafoam.

But somewhere behind us, I could still feel Ellorial’s eyes. Watching. Measuring. As if he knew something I didn’t.

And deep down, I had the sinking feeling that whatever it was, it would change everything.