Ember To My Flame

Chapter One: The Storm Before the Vow

The skies over Zuniria rarely turned grey. But on the day of the Moon bind Ceremony, clouds gathered like secrets, heavy and bruised above the marble spires. Thunder rolled low and slow, as if the gods were murmuring dissent.

From her high balcony, Seraya watched the approaching storm, fingers curled tightly around the ivory rail. Below her, the palace thrummed with life-dancers spun through ribbons of gold, drummers echoed a rhythm older than memory, and a thousand silk banners danced like fire in the wind.

Her wedding day. Her binding to Prince Auren. The match of fate, arranged by council, confirmed by stars.

A perfect pairing.

A perfect lie.

Behind her, silent attendants fastened the last coral pins into her crown of braids and lowered the sheer veil across her face.

"You look like a goddess," one whispered reverently.

Seraya gave a tight nod, but her gaze stayed on the horizon. Somewhere across the gardens, her sister was preparing too.

Nyelle. Untamed. Unruly. Born second, but always burning brighter.

And today, they were both sacrifices dressed as brides.

She let out a slow breath, her reflection barely visible in the polished obsidian mirror nearby. The veil softened her features, made her look serene-divine, even. But beneath the silk, her heart thrummed like war drums.

This is for the realm. This is duty. This is survival.

Then why did it feel like surrender?

In the shadowed southern court, Nyelle yanked at the collar of her ceremonial robe.

"It's choking me," she muttered.

"It's sacred silk," replied a nervous handmaid, gently trying to smooth the fabric.

"It's itchy," Nyelle snapped, swatting the girl's hands away.

Everything about today felt wrong. The silence. The stiffness. The scent of incense clinging to her skin like smoke. She was to be bound to General Kaidun of Koro'Da-a man she'd never seen, never spoken to. Known only by rumor: brilliant, brutal, stone-hearted.

Fitting, she thought bitterly, they'd send me to the one realm colder than this one.

She clenched her fists. Her fingers tingled-not with fear, but with power. The kind she was forbidden to speak of. The kind she barely understood.

A knock echoed from the outer chamber. The priest was calling her forward.

She should've run. She still could.