the bloom of light and shadow

The sky was bleeding into dawn, streaked with bruised violets and weary gold.

Seraphina stood at the edge of the courtyard, her cloak wrapped tightly around her, a strange stillness in her chest. Before her, the carriage waited — dark, elegant, and ready to carry her away from everything she had ever known.

Behind her… nothing stirred.

No brothers.No sisters.No mother.

She had expected as much. And yet, it still stung like a silent goodbye never said.

Kael stood a few paces away, adjusting the gloves on his hands. He looked at her then — not with pity, but with something quieter. Understanding.

"You sure you're ready for this?" he asked.

"No," she said, stepping forward, "but I'm going anyway."

A small smile touched his lips. "That's the right answer."

Just as she placed her hand on the carriage door, the sound of boots against stone made her freeze.

She turned.

The Duke stood at the top of the steps, his cloak heavy on his shoulders, his expression shadowed.

"Father…" she breathed, stunned.

He walked toward her, slowly but purposefully. When he reached her side, he didn't speak immediately. His gaze moved over her — the cloak, the bags, the tension in her shoulders. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower than usual.

"I didn't think you would leave without saying goodbye."

"I thought you wouldn't come to say it."

Their eyes met — and for the first time, neither looked away.

"Do you know why I always waited for you to call me father?" he asked, voice like weathered stone. "Because I didn't know if I deserved to hear it."

Seraphina's throat tightened, but she said nothing.

"I should've protected you better," he continued. "From this house. From your mother. From the silence."He paused. "But if this journey gives you even the chance at something more… then I'll let you go."

His voice cracked just slightly — the only hint of a fracture in his composed demeanor.

But then he stepped closer and placed a gloved hand on her shoulder. For once, it wasn't cold or distant. It was grounding.

"And by the time you return," he said, quieter now, "I promise… everything will change."

Seraphina looked up at him — unsure, hopeful, afraid to believe it.

"No one will dare," the Duke continued, "to treat you the way they have until now. That… was my failure. My negligence. And I swear to you, Seraphina—my only daughter—no one in this house will ever forget who you are again."

It was the first time he had ever said those words aloud.

My only daughter.

Her lips parted, but no sound came. She didn't need to speak. The look in her eyes — wide, burning, and glassy — said everything.

The Duke turned, brushing a hand briefly over his chest in silent farewell, and stepped back without another word.

Kael helped Seraphina into the carriage. The door closed.

And as the wheels rolled forward through the mist, a hush fell over House Rubienne — the kind of hush that comes before something changes forever.

The wheels groaned softly beneath them, the steady rhythm of their departure humming through the floor. Outside, the forest whispered — tall trees swaying like silent witnesses to their journey.

Inside the carriage, it was still.

Kael sat across from her, one hand resting against his chin, the other tapping lightly on his knee. Seraphina kept her gaze fixed out the window, but she could feel his eyes on her.

Neither spoke for a while.

She broke the silence first.

"You didn't remind me," she said quietly, "about the engagement."

Kael raised a brow. "I thought you wanted it to be a surprise."

"I did." She turned her head, lips twitching. "But now I feel guilty."

He tilted his head slightly. "Why?"

"He called me his only daughter." Her voice softened. "And I… forgot to tell him he might lose me to a prince."

Kael smiled — a real one this time, touched with warmth. "He won't lose you. You'll just… gain a kingdom."

Seraphina rolled her eyes at the dramatics, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her.

The silence stretched again. But this time, it wasn't uncomfortable.

It was charged.

She could feel it in the air between them — like tension humming beneath skin. She shifted in her seat.

"You're unusually quiet," she said.

Kael looked up, his sapphire eyes glowing faintly in the dim carriage light. "I'm thinking."

"About?"

"…About how many things I want to tell you, and how many I probably shouldn't."

Her pulse quickened.

"Start with one," she said, breath caught between teasing and nervous.

Kael leaned forward slightly, his voice low.

"I wasn't sent here just to observe your family or investigate some vague concern," he continued, watching her closely. "I came because of you."

Her lips parted slightly, surprise flickering in her eyes.

"I didn't know your name at first. I only knew of a girl—born under strange omens, with eyes unlike any seen before in Eldoria. Eyes that… could unravel truths."

He let the words hang, then continued, softer.

"My father ordered a discreet inquiry. The prophecy, your birth, the rumors… no one had dared speak of them for years. But some things… can't remain buried."

Seraphina's hands tightened in her lap. "So I'm a mission."

"No," Kael said instantly, his voice sharp with feeling. "You were a mission. Now you're something else entirely."

Her heart beat harder in her chest.

Kael looked down for a moment, then back at her. "When I said I see things in people… I meant it. Their darkest secrets. Their pain. Their lies. Sometimes even their past. It's not something I asked for—it's something I was cursed with."

Seraphina stared at him, the flicker of candlelight reflecting in her crimson eyes.

"I can manipulate shadows," he added, his voice low, distant. "I can change the air, the gravity, the storm. I can bend the minds of men. But you…" He met her gaze fully now. "You're the only one I can't see through."

A breath caught in her throat.

"I've spent my entire life wading through illusions and pretenses," he said. "But with you, Seraphina… there is a wall. And somehow, it feels like peace."

She swallowed, her voice quiet but steady. "You say you can bend minds. That sounds like power."

Kael shook his head. "It's emptier than it sounds. When everyone fears you, or follows you blindly, no one ever speaks the truth."

She looked down. "Then perhaps we are more alike than I thought."

He tilted his head.

"I was born knowing thoughts. I never understood how or why. I see when someone lies. I hear whispers no one speaks. And every time someone smiles at me, I can hear what they really feel."

Kael's expression softened. "That must be… lonely."

"It is," she whispered.

They were quiet for a long moment. The wheels of the carriage turned steadily. The outside world fell away.

And then—slowly—Seraphina looked up at him again.

"You said you came for me."

"I did."

"Why tell me all this now?"

Kael leaned back slightly, letting out a breath. "Because I trust you. And because if we're going to stand beside each other, I want you to know me—not the version everyone else sees, not the mask of a prince."

She studied him, her red eyes seeming to glow ever so faintly in the dim light.

"And you're not afraid?" she asked.

"Terrified," he admitted with a smile. "But… I'd rather be terrified and honest with you than comfortable in silence."

A pause. Then she spoke, quiet as snowfall:

"Then let's promise something."

He blinked. "What kind of promise?"

"No more masks," she said. "Not when we're alone."

Kael nodded once. "Agreed."

She hesitated—then added softly, almost like a confession, "Your words… they're not what I expected."

He smiled. "And you… you're not what I dared to hope for."

Before she could respond, a sudden jolt rocked the carriage again. The horses neighed and stamped, their hooves skidding in the gravel.

Seraphina's breath hitched. She reached instinctively toward the window.

The forest had changed.

Fog pressed thick and low against the trees, curling unnaturally across the path like fingers dragging across the earth.

Kael was already on his feet, the air around him shifting subtly—as if the shadows themselves responded to his unease.

"Stay here," he said softly.

But Seraphina stood too.

"No. We face it together."

From outside, something moved—too fast, too quiet to be seen.

And then, just for a moment, they both heard it.

A whisper—not a word, not a voice.

Just a hum in the blood.

Something… awakening.

Their eyes met.

Neither said it aloud—but both felt the same thing:

This wasn't the end of a conversation.

It was the beginning of something far more dangerous.