the bloom of light and shadow

The morning light spilled softly through the tall windows of House Rubienne, casting a golden glow over polished floors and rose-embroidered tapestries.

Inside the birthing chamber, the air held a breathless stillness.

Then, at last—a cry.

A daughter had entered the world.

She was small and fragile, wrapped carefully in silk and lace. Her skin was pale, almost translucent in the gentle light. But when her eyes opened, the room fell silent.

Crimson.

Not the red of roses, but the deep gleam of rubies held to fire.

The Duchess stared down at her daughter with awe tinged by unease."Seraphina," she whispered, her voice trembling.

The midwife smiled gently, brushing a stray lock from the infant's brow. "She is beautiful, Your Grace."

Yet even as she spoke, a hush fell.The Duke, silent and still, stood nearby, his expression unreadable.

No one dared voice the thought resting on every tongue.Those eyes. That name. That silence.Something had arrived with this child—something old, something waiting.

But for now, she was simply a daughter: a new life cradled in silk and sunlight.And beneath the crimson banners of House Rubienne, a new chapter quietly began.

The days that followed moved gently, filled with the rhythms of a newborn's world—soft cries, hushed lullabies, and the rustle of lace.

But beneath that peaceful veil, something unusual stirred.

The servants began to whisper. They avoided her cradle."She watches too closely," one muttered. "It's like she sees right through you."

The Duchess stayed often by Seraphina's side, love flickering behind her wary eyes.

One twilight evening, as amber light spilled through the windows, the child's gaze caught her mother's.

And the Duchess shivered.

Not from fear—something deeper. Something ancient.As though her daughter were staring through walls, through time, into something only she could see.

The midwife noticed it too.

"She's more than she seems, Your Grace," she murmured. "Much more."

As the seasons turned, so too did the quiet power nestled in Seraphina's blood.Growing. Waiting.

Fifteen Years Later

Sunlight streamed through the Rubienne estate, casting gold across crimson tapestries and silver stags etched into stone.

Seraphina stood by her window, the breeze brushing her long hair.Her eyes—still crimson—glinted in the morning light.But behind their calm surface burned a quiet ache. A question unanswered.

She had grown into a young woman of rare poise. A beauty wrapped in silence.

Servants avoided her. Noblewomen admired her from afar.But no one touched her. No one truly saw her.

Her gaze held secrets. Her presence stirred unease.

For years she had hidden the truth:She could feel when others lied.She could hear thoughts not spoken aloud.

But she had never spoken of it—not to anyone.

Because power, she'd learned, invited fear.And fear birthed isolation.

The Duchess had grown distant, her affection cold and measured.The Duke remained a quiet shadow in the halls.And Seraphina… walked alone.A daughter of ice and crimson.

Yet something within her had begun to stir again.A gentle whisper in her bones.A fire cracking beneath the frost.

That afternoon, she slipped from the manor.

No one stopped her. No one asked.

She had called for a carriage—but none came.

"Of course," she muttered. "What use is a title when no one listens?"

The walk to the city wasn't long, but it wore on her—the mental strain of constantly bracing herself, pretending not to notice the way the guards looked past her, the maids pretended not to hear.

Even as she passed the estate gates, not a single knight bowed.

By the time she reached the city's edge, her mind was clouded with exhaustion.She kept her cloak drawn tight, her eyes concealed behind an alchemical potion that dulled their hue to a soft brown.No one recognized her.

She wandered through narrow streets, allowing herself a rare breath of freedom.She even tried street food—sweet buns with honey glaze—and for a brief moment, she felt… human.

But the moment didn't last.

A group of drunk men spotted her near an alley's edge.

"Where are you going, princess?" one slurred, stepping into her path.

Another grinned. "Join us. Just for a little fun."

She scanned their thoughts instinctively, hoping for a loophole—anything to slip past them.

But they were of one mind. Cruel, determined.They'd done this before.

Her throat tightened. The ache behind her eyes began to pulse.

One of them reached out.

And then—

The thunder of hooves.

A carriage, dark and unmarked, slid into the street like a shadow.

The men turned, startled—then scattered as several knights leapt down from their horses.At their head stood a tall young man. His black hair caught the last light of dusk.

Seraphina's vision swam. Her knees gave way.

The ache behind her eyes burst into fire.

And just before she lost consciousness, she saw the stranger's back—broad, steady—standing between her and the men who would've hurt her.

She awoke in her room.

The familiar canopy above her. The silken sheets beneath her palms.

For a long time, she lay still, trying to make sense of what had happened.

Then, the sound of hooves.

She sat up slowly, heart catching in her throat.

A carriage rolled through the main gates of House Rubienne. Sunlight caught the edge of its wheel. Dust rose in its wake.

From within stepped the figure she had seen—taller than most, shoulders straight, dark hair tousled from the wind.

His gaze rose to meet hers.

Blue.Clear, unblinking, and sharp as ice.

And Seraphina—for the first time in years—forgot to breathe.