Veilfall always made
Castle Orion feel smaller than it truly was, its towering spires looming like
giants against a darkening sky. As twilight descended, the guards doubled their
posts, their silhouettes stark against the fading light. The heavy iron gates
creaked shut before sunset, sealing the castle from the encroaching night.
Eerie blue torches flickered to life, casting elongated shadows that danced
across the marble halls, transforming the once-familiar corridors into a
labyrinth of unease. Even the roses in the courtyard seemed to sense the shift
in the air, folding their delicate petals inward, bracing for the passage of
something ancient and unknowable.
At twenty years old, I
was deemed old enough to understand the weight of my lineage, old enough to
heed the rules that bound me. Yet, standing at the threshold of the servants’
passage, my cloak pulled tight around my shoulders, I felt the familiar thrill
of rebellion surge through me. Lira, my best friend, flashed me a mischievous
grin that transported me back to our childhood days of unfiltered laughter and
daring exploits.
“You’re the heir to
Dalaria,” she whispered, her tone conspiratorial. “If you want to see the
festival, who’s going to stop you?”
“Mother,” I replied
dryly, the thought of her suffocating authority draping over me like a heavy
fog. “And she’s terrifying.”
Lira’s grin widened.
“Only when she’s awake.”
A laugh escaped me,
unexpected and liberating, cutting through the tension that had gripped me for
weeks. The relentless court lessons, diplomatic dinners, and the burdensome
reminders of my oath-bound future felt like a stack of stones on my chest. Tonight,
I craved an escape.an opportunity to be more than just a symbol of my family’s
legacy. I yearned to be simply a girl draped in a cloak, slipping into the
night alongside her best friend.
Together, we pushed
open the narrow, creaking door and stepped into the biting cold air. Castle
Orion loomed behind us, its silver towers piercing the evening sky, their
windows glowing like watchful eyes in the dark. Before us lay the path to the
village.an inviting yet treacherous route that twisted darkly through the
trees, shrouded in mystery and intrigue.
The moon hung low,
casting a pale sickle of light that bathed the world in an otherworldly glow.
The air crackled with an energy that made the hairs on the back of my neck
stand up, as if the very fabric of reality was straining to listen.
“Do you think the
remnants will show tonight?” I asked, curiosity tinged with trepidation.
Lira shrugged, her
expression thoughtful. “My grandmother says they only bother people with
unfinished oaths.”
My throat tightened at
her words. My entire existence was tangled up in oaths.those I had inherited,
those expected of me, and those I didn’t even know I had yet to fulfill.
We moved swiftly, our
boots crunching over frost-kissed leaves, the sound mingling with the rustle of
branches above us. As we drew closer to the village, the oppressive weight of
the night began to soften. Warm lights flickered between the trees like stars
dimmed by the earth, and music spilled from every corner. Drums, flutes, and
melodies entwined with bursts of laughter. The rich scent of spiced cider and
roasted nuts wound around us, beckoning us further into the lively scene.
When we finally
stepped into the village square, my breath caught in my throat. Lanterns shaped
as roses floated above the rooftops, glowing in hues of crimson and gold,
casting a warm light that felt almost magical. Children dashed about wearing
fox masks and adorned in raven feathers, their joyous shouts filling the air.
Bakers offered honey cakes, their surface dusted with glimmering silver sugar,
while dancers moved gracefully around the bonfire, their shadows leaping like
playful spirits.
“This is beautiful,” I
whispered, my heart swelling at the sight.
Lira elbowed me
gently. “Told you it was worth the risk.”
We meandered through
the vibrant stalls, admiring the charms crafted to ward off remnants. ribbons
woven with moonlight threads, tiny bells that chimed without a breath of wind,
vials of fragrant rosewater blessed by the temple priests. My fingers brushed
against a charm shaped like a thorned rose, its allure capturing my attention.
“Do you think it
works?” I asked, holding it up to the light.
“Probably not,” Lira
replied with a casual shrug, “but it’s pretty.”
I smiled, feeling the
warmth of the festival break through the oppressive weight of my obligations.
But then, without warning, the wind changed. A single, frigid gust swept
through the square, extinguishing half the lanterns in an instant. The music
faltered, and the bonfire flickered ominously. A hush fell over the crowd like
a heavy shroud, and an unsettling tension rippled through the air.
And then, I saw it.
At the edge of the
square, half-shrouded in shadows and half-illuminated by the moonlight, stood a
figure. Tall, regal, and impossibly pale, with eyes that glinted like hollow
silver coins. A remnant, a soul from the Realm of Immorteum.
Lira’s hand found
mine, her grip tightening. “Don’t look at it.”
But I couldn’t tear my
gaze away.
The remnant tilted its
head, nostrils quivering as if it could scent the very fabric of the world
around it. Its gaze swept across the gathering villagers, lingering anxiously
before locking onto me. My heart stuttered, caught in a grip of fear mingled with
intrigue. It stepped forward through the chaos, moving with a grace that belied
its unsettling nature. The crowd erupted in panic, scattering toward their
homes, clutching their children and protective charms. But I stood rooted to
the spot, transfixed by something deeper than fear's icy grip. The remnant
halted mere paces away. Its voice was soft, a whisper carried on the wind,
reverberating through the chilling silence. “You should not be here, heir of
Orion.”
My throat tightened,
trying to form a response. “I only wanted to see the festival.”
“Veilfall is not for
the living,” it murmured, its tone sorrowful yet knowing. “Not for those whose
oaths are written in blood yet spilled.”
A chill crawled up my
spine at its words. “What do you mean?”
The remnant tilted its
head, its hollow gaze studying me with an unsettling tenderness that belied its
eerie presence. “The Realm of Immorteum remembers you,” it whispered, its voice
wrapping around me like a cold embrace. “And soon, you will remember it.”
“Come on,” Lira urged,
tugging at my arm. “We need to go. Now.”
But the remnant’s
hollow gaze didn’t waver from mine.
“Run, child of Orion,”
it commanded softly. “Before the Veil decides your fate tonight.”
That realization
shattered the spell, breaking my paralysis.
We ran.
Branches lashed
against our cloaks as we sprinted back through the darkened trees, the path
twisting beneath our feet like a serpentine shadow. The whispers of Immorteum
chased us, echoing in my ears like siren calls. When the gates of Castle Orion
finally loomed into view. Its torches flaring back to life in comforting gold.I
felt a rush of relief wash over me.
We stumbled inside,
gasping for breath, adrenaline pumping through our veins.
Lira leaned against
the wall, her face pale. “We are never doing that again.”
I nodded, still
reeling from the encounter, but my gaze drifted involuntarily to the ground
just inside the gate. A single flower lay there, black as the depths of
Immorteum, its petals dripping crimson like a promise of something dark to
come. A Veilfall rose. A warning that something, or someone, was coming.
Excerpt:
My parents are dead. I can be free if I go with him. Even if it means being bound to him until death. Alma will be safe. She is brave, selfless, and I know she will take care of the kingdom. This was a chance for me to get away from here. I won’t give him the satisfaction of kissing me. I will learn who that shadow man was and why he killed my parents.
A sacred bond that can only be enacted by using blood magic. That confirmed the suspicion that magic had come back to the realm and our goddess will be reborn again. There was a lot I didn’t know about this oath, but what I knew was that once I agree to it, I won’t be able to lie to him, kill him, or betray our original vow. That was the full extent of my knowledge of this oath, but he didn’t know that.
“Blood oath,” I spat.
“This will hurt, which is why I preferred the kiss.” He held out his right hand and then ran his blade across his palm, then across my right. I didn’t wince, and I saw the flicker of amusement on his face. I have withstood far worse pain in much more sensitive places on my body.
“Intriguing,” he said.
“Chloe, you don’t have to do this,” Alma pleaded, reaching for my left hand.
“It’ll be all right,” I told her. I am not a ruler or leader. Mother burned any chance of that out of me the day she made the first cut. But Alma, she is. That is why my next order can be said so easily.
“Once we leave, you will assume the throne. Cancel the ball and inform the other kingdoms that the entire royal family is dead because of an unforeseen accident. This man will let me make an official document having you take the throne because of my death. This is an order and not a request.” Snagging my left arm, she turned me toward her.
“Don’t do this,” Alma begged. I jerked my arm from her grip, handed her the dagger, and then turned back toward the man.
“Get on with it.”
“As you wish.” We joined our cut palms, blood mixing, and then he pulled me into him.
One hand gripped my waist, and I felt the hardness of his body against me.
“Do we have to be this close?” I asked. Completely ignoring me, he began the oath, and my mouth filled with the flavor of magic as our joined palms burned.
“Under the rights of the Blood Oath, I swear we will leave your people unharmed if you come with me willingly and without complication. If you break this oath, your people will pay with their lives. Do you swear by it?”
Our gaze didn’t falter. “Under the rights of the Blood Oath, I swear to come with you willingly and without complications, and you will leave my people unharmed. If you break this oath, you and your people will pay with their lives.” It came out a lot easier than I thought it would.
“Sheathe your swords,” he ordered his men, our eyes still locked onto each other.
“Lower your weapons,” I ordered. “Leave these quarters and don’t follow us. Don’t come after me, if any of you disobey me, you will be executed.”
“Chloe.” Alma sounded defeated, and it broke my heart.
“Draw up a parchment willing the kingdom over to her and then stamp it with the royal seal,” I ordered the man.
“You heard her.” The entire time, our bloodied hands, bodies, and eyes never faltered from their positions. I knew he was trying to intimidate me into submission, but I have been through worse with Mother. Alma and the guards left the chambers. The man stepped back from me, our embrace broken, but not our eye contact. One of his men brought over the parchment. He examined the message, and then went over to my stationary and sealed it with the royal crest that belonged to me.
“Bring that to the one called Alma. We need to get going.” He then approached me. “You are a very brave woman.” He snapped his fingers and one of his men brought over some rope.
“Is that necessary? I just swore to you I wouldn’t escape.”
“I don’t want you getting any wicked ideas about stabbing me, Princess.”
C.
M. Hano is a Fantasy Romance Author who aspires to write strong female driven,
hot and magical adventures, and being a good mother. She lives in Louisiana
with her husband and three beautiful children.
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