Chapter 4: The Silver Veil

The palace slept.

The laughter and music had long faded, leaving only the whisper of wind through the corridors. Moonlight spilled across marble floors, pale and cold.

Seraphina walked alone.

Her steps were silent, her gown gathered loosely in one hand. The halls that had once made her feel small now seemed to bend around her, the air itself listening.

She stopped before a tall window overlooking the city. The moon hung low over the rooftops, silver and soft, and the faint smell of smoke drifted in from the night air.

Everything looked peaceful, untouched by the storm she knew would one day come.

She pressed her palm to the glass. The mark on her hand shimmered faintly, light crawling across her skin like liquid metal.

“What are you?” she whispered.

The surface beneath her fingers frosted over, a thin layer of ice spreading in delicate lines before vanishing again. She drew her hand back slowly, heart pounding.

It wasn’t just light. It was something alive.

She exhaled and tried again, closing her eyes this time. She thought of the dungeon, of the fire and the voice that had called her name.

The mark answered.

Cold air swirled around her, lifting the edge of her gown. Tiny threads of silver light coiled around her fingers, delicate as breath. They pulsed once, then faded back into her skin.

Her reflection in the glass looked different. Paler. Sharper. A faint glow clung to her hair like mist.

So it wasn’t only her appearance that had changed. Something inside her had too.

She turned from the window and moved toward the gardens. The moonlight pooled over the stone steps, and the sound of distant water filled the silence.

The royal gardens were deserted at this hour. Roses gleamed faintly in the dark, their petals edged with dew. She knelt beside the fountain at the center, letting her fingers trail through the water.

It was cold.

Then, with a thought, it froze solid.

Seraphina drew her hand back, startled. The water cracked under her touch, glittering with frost.

She stared down at her reflection, her silver hair glinting like moonlight against the ice.

You will be weighed.

The goddess’s words echoed again in her mind, steady and distant.

“What does that mean?” she whispered. “Why me?”

No answer came. Only the faint hum of power beneath her skin, like a second heartbeat.

She stood and looked up at the sky. The moon seemed closer now, sharp and clear against the black.

Her breath clouded in the air.

If this was a gift, it came from something far older than the gods of her kingdom. If it was a curse, it was one she would gladly bear.

She closed her eyes and let the night settle around her.

When she opened them again, she could see faint silver threads drifting across the garden, invisible lines of energy connecting everything around her: trees, flowers, even the sleeping birds in the branches.

The world was alive with light, hidden beneath its surface.

And she could feel it.

A quiet smile touched her lips.

The weak, naive girl who once stood here had died in the fire. What remained was something else entirely.

Seraphina turned back toward the palace, the frost on the fountain still glittering in the moonlight.

It was time to stop being the victim of their story.

It was time to start writing her own.