Chapter 1 ILLEGITIMATE PRINCESS

Rain fell like mourning tears the night Seraphina Carys was cast out of the palace. The golden banners bearing her family's crest - a phoenix wrapped in flame - were torn down as if her very existence had stained the stone walls.

Twenty-four years old. Trained to rule. Crowned in promise. And now? Nothing more than a ghost in the records of the royal line.

"Do not return," her stepmother had whispered coldly, the last to see her before the guards shoved her through the back gates. "Even bastards have their place. Yours is far from the throne."

She hadn't cried. Not then. Not when the gates slammed shut behind her. Not even when her feet blistered on the gravel roads as she fled into the night.

But now, five months later - far from the kingdom of Velmora - Seraphina sat on the rooftop of a crumbling city building, staring out at a world that did not know her name. The real world. Where magic was myth and crowns were meaningless.

Or so she thought.

Below, neon lights flickered through misty streets, reflecting in puddles and oil stains. She tugged her hood tighter, shielding her silver-streaked hair. It had changed after her exile. At first, she thought it was stress - or grief. But then came the dreams. The fire. The voices.

"Come home, child of the rift."

A whisper she heard only in sleep, from a place that wasn't Velmora... and wasn't Earth either.

She didn't know what it meant. But each time, the voice - male, velvet-smooth and terrifying - pulled her deeper into the darkness behind her eyelids. And every time she woke, she felt something inside her burn hotter.

By day, Seraphina worked at a bookstore downtown, surviving on coffee and cheap pastries. By night, she fought the urge to scream as her veins lit up with fire.

It wasn't human. She knew that now.

The dreams had become visions. Sometimes while awake, she saw flames curling along her arms, her reflection blinking back with silver eyes. Sometimes, her skin cracked like old glass and shadows poured through.

She was unraveling.

And yet, some part of her... liked it.

That night, as rain again laced the city, she stood in the alley behind the bookstore, tossing a cigarette she didn't even smoke. She didn't know why she came here so often. Something always felt... different.

The shadows flickered unnaturally tonight. Moved when she didn't.

Her breath hitched. "Not again...."

The alley darkened - like night itself had dropped faster than it should.

And then, he stepped out.

He wasn't human. That much was obvious.

Tall, with skin the color of storm clouds and eyes that glowed like embers. His hair was black as ink, shoulder-length, and wet from the rain - though none touched his skin. He wore a long coat stitched with symbols, and the air around him shimmered with something ancient.

His gaze locked onto hers, and Seraphina felt her bones tremble.

"Seraphina Carys," he said, voice low and smooth like wine in a chalice. "Daughter of two worlds. You've hidden long enough."

She stepped back, heart pounding. "Who are you?"

A slow smile curved his lips - dangerous and beautiful.

"I am the storm you were born from," he said. "And the fire you must become."

To be continued...