All Chapters of SEALED FATE: Chapter 51 - Chapter 56

The morning sun bathed the Vaelthorne estate in soft golden light, filtering through the tall, arched windows of Seraphine’s chamber. She had hardly risen from her bed when a knock sounded at the door. Elda entered with a curtsy and a smile. “Good morning, my lady. I hope you slept well. The Duke arranged for a seamstress to visit today. She has arrived and awaits your pleasure.” Seraphine blinked, still slightly dazed from waking. “A seamstress? For me?” “Yes, my lady. His Grace has requested an entire wardrobe prepared for the next season. Gowns, riding habits, cloaks, slippers, gloves... everything a lady of your standing will need.” Seraphine’s lips parted in surprise. Back at the Delacroix estate, she was lucky to receive hand-me-downs or old gowns altered to fit. The idea that someone would make dresses just for her—dozens of them—felt like a dream whispered into life. Soon, her chamber transformed into a flurry of silks, satins, and velvet. The seamstress, a dignified woma

Location: The Council’s Inner Chamber – High Sanctum of Eldoria Lightning flickered behind the tall stained-glass windows, painting streaks of crimson and violet across the obsidian floor of the High Council’s chamber. Inside, the most ancient and feared leaders of the supernatural realm convened under a haze of incense and authority. Chancellor Elowen, her once-proud poise now shadowed by decades of silent failure, stood at the center of the circle. Her silver hair, once tied in regal braids, hung loose around her face as if age had finally caught up to her conscience. “The girl is gone,” murmured a voice from the shadows—Lord Cedros, a warlock of the eastern realm, his tone like rust on cold steel. “Eighteen years. And still you give us no results.” Elowen turned toward him, her voice hoarse but steady. “The error was… unprecedented. We suppressed her aura to protect the realms. No one could have predicted that a simple illness would unravel the plan.” The memory returned to he

The wind in Santossa City carried the crisp scent of pine and the wild, untamed air of the northern hills. It had been raining earlier, and the stones of the estate’s courtyard were slick with silver puddles. The storm had long passed, but the tension remained—as though the world was holding its breath. Carl sat on the veranda, a leather-bound book untouched in his lap, his mind lost elsewhere. The creak of the iron gate caught his attention. He looked up. Caveen approached, coat damp from the misty air, his dark hair falling into his eyes. There was a heaviness in his steps—something that hadn’t been there during his last visit. It was a weariness not from work, but from something clawing at the inside of his chest. Carl stood. “Son.” Caveen offered a quiet smile and embraced him. “Is mother home?” “She’s in the garden.” “I need to speak with both of you.” Minutes later, they sat by the hearth in the library, warmth flickering against their skin as Maika poured them tea. Carl