Novels by jasmine sheng

The morning light was cruelly bright.It poured through the tall palace windows, spilling across the marble floors and the golden banners that hung in the great hall. Servants hurried through the corridors, silent and tense, as if afraid their voices might draw attention from the wrong ears.By the time Seraphina arrived, the court was already gathered. Adrian and Elysia stood before the throne, dressed in immaculate white and gold. Lucien waited a few paces away, the emblem of the Church gleaming on his shoulder.The air felt heavy. Something was coming.When Adrian raised his hand, the murmurs quieted. “This morning, the Holy Council has issued a decree,” he said. His voice was steady, but she could hear the unease beneath it. “A series of irregularit

The night came early, heavy and cold.The palace torches burned low, their flames flickering against the marble walls. The corridors were nearly empty when the summons arrived, a young acolyte at her door, trembling as he bowed.“His Grace requests your presence in the chapel, my lady.”Seraphina set aside the book she had been pretending to read. “At this hour?”“Yes, my lady. He said it could not wait.”Cale stepped forward immediately. “She will not go alone.”The boy hesitated. “He said she must.”Cale looked at her, concern darkening his features. “You do not have to obey him.”Seraphina rose. “If I refuse, he will only come here. I would rather choose the ground myself.”She touched his arm lightly. “Wait outside the chapel. If I do not return, do not come for me. Take Elias and leave.”“Seraphina.”“Promise me.”His jaw tightened. He nodded once.The acolyte led her through the sleeping palace, down the long corridor lined with cold statues of saints. Their stone faces seemed t

The throne hall was already full when Seraphina entered.Every noble who mattered was there, cloaked in silks and whispers. Golden light streamed from the tall windows, glinting off silver goblets and jeweled rings. The sound of voices softened when she crossed the threshold.She felt every pair of eyes turn toward her.Elysia stood beside the throne in a gown of white and gold, her smile sweet, her posture perfect. Beside her, Crown Prince Adrian looked the part of mercy and majesty, his hand resting lightly on Elysia’s arm.Lucien was there too, standing near the dais. He wore the Church’s black robes trimmed with pale silver, his expression unreadable.Seraphina walked slowly through the room, her pale blue gown whispering across the marble. She kept her head high, every movement measured. If she trembled, no one would see it.“Lady Seraphina,” Adrian said when she reached the dais. His tone was polite, distant. “It pleases me that you could join us.”“The palace remains my home,”

When Seraphina woke, the first thing she noticed was the silence.No footsteps in the hall. No chatter of servants. Even the morning bells had not yet rung. The faint grey of dawn touched the edges of her curtains, soft and cold.She pushed herself upright, wincing as the motion sent a dull ache through her body. The air in her chamber still felt strange, thinner than usual, touched by frost that had not entirely faded. Her breath left faint clouds in the light.The coin lay on the bedside table where she had left it, gleaming faintly in the half-light.For a moment, she simply looked at it.The night before lingered in her mind like a fever dream: Lucien’s voice, the mark burning, the frost spreading like veins of glass. And then that light, blinding and infinite, filling the room until there was nothing else.She had almost convinced herself it wasn’t real, until she touched the coin.Warmth pulsed against her skin, faint but alive. The same pulse that now beat beneath her palm.A k

The palace never truly slept.Even in the deepest hours, when the corridors were empty and the torches burned low, Seraphina could hear the faint rhythm of life: footsteps in distant halls, the rustle of curtains, the murmur of voices behind closed doors.But tonight, it all felt wrong.The silence was too careful. The air was too still.She stood at her window, staring down at the courtyard where moonlight touched the frost-covered fountain. Its surface had frozen smooth, reflecting the stars like glass. The mark on her palm pulsed softly beneath her skin, still faintly gold from the reliquary.Elias had left an hour ago, taking the book with him. He had told her to rest. She had tried. But rest never came easily anymore.Something shifted in the air. A prickle crawled up her spine.She turned.Someone was in the room.The shadows near the door seemed to ripple, then separate from the darkness itself. Lucien stepped into the light, silent as smoke. His cloak was unfastened, his expre

The palace was quieter at night than it had ever been.Seraphina could hear the soft rhythm of the guards’ boots echoing far down the corridors, the rustle of silk banners in the faint breeze, the creak of wood settling. Beneath it all, the faint hum of her power whispered like breath.She sat before her mirror, the same one that had once reflected a frightened girl the night before her death. Now, that girl was gone. Her reflection stared back at her with steady eyes and hair that shimmered faintly in the lamplight.She removed her gloves. The mark on her palm glowed faintly, like an ember that refused to die.The relic’s reaction still replayed in her mind, the shock on the priests’ faces, Lucien’s unflinching gaze, Adrian’s hesitation. The silver light. The frost creeping outward like living veins.“Judgment,” she whispered. “Not blessing.”The words tasted strange. Powerful.She reached out and touched the surface of the mirror. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the glass rippl