Chapter 1 The Red Wedding Veil

"Beneath the veil of silk and smiles, a storm gathered in scarlet silence."

The scent of orchids and blood hung in the air.

Seraphyne Vellaren sat before the tall bronze mirror, the frame gilded with ivy patterns, her storm gray eyes fixed not on her reflection but somewhere far beyond it. Her maids bustled around her, weaving golden threads through her long raven hair, smoothing folds of crimson silk over her shoulders, pinning delicate ornaments passed down from generations of Vellaren women.

She did not smile. She did not speak.

Today was her wedding day.

The world outside her private chambers bloomed in the lavish chaos of celebration trumpets and flutes echoed through the inner palace of Solmyn, banners of ivory and gold fluttered in the midsummer breeze, and nobles from across the three kingdoms raised cups of sweetened wine to toast the second prince of Solmyn and his bride Seraphyne, daughter of Virelia's most powerful noble clan, the General House of Vellaren.

A union that had stunned the empire.

A match too perfect, too advantageous. A love she had foolishly believed was real.

Her maid Leira smiled as she secured the final pearl pin above her brow. "You look like a goddess descended from the stars, my lady. The prince will forget his name when he sees you."

Seraphyne gave a small, tight nod. She reached to touch the veil laid before her a sheer crimson fabric embroidered with the sigil of House Vellaren: a phoenix wrapped in flame.

Untraditional. Bold.

But she had insisted. She was a Vellaren. They were not lambs cloaked in ivory, they were forged from fire and steel.

"I'll fetch your cloak," said Maren, her other maid, vanishing through the side door.

Seraphyne's fingers curled around the edge of the mirror stand. Her mind drifted backward.

To moonlit nights in the Vellaren stronghold, sparring under the gaze of her elder brother's critical eye. To the taste of iron in her mouth the first time she broke skin in a real duel. To her mother's voice, teaching her to never flinch before power, and to never offer kindness without caution.

But none of that had prepared her for Rael.

Not the softness in his voice when he recited old poetry under the moon. Not the intensity in his silver eyes when he promised her a future where her name would not be hidden behind his, but carved beside it.

Seraphyne had believed him. Believed that she could be both blade and bride. That perhaps love and ambition were not always opposites.

Outside the room, the sounds of music continued, growing louder.

And then a scream.

Short. High-pitched. Cut off.

Seraphyne rose abruptly. The air shifted. Her body went cold.

Another scream-closer now. A second voice crying out in panic, quickly silenced by something wet and final.

Her breath hitched.

She moved to the door just as it slammed open.

Blood.

Blood everywhere.

A man stood at the threshold. His crimson wedding robes were soaked in it, his black hair disheveled, a long blade clutched in his hand. Its tip dripped a slow, deliberate rhythm onto the marble.

Rael Valen Solmyn.

Her betrothed. The second prince of Solmyn. The man she had once believed would protect her heart.

Behind him, the corridor lay in ruin. Bodies of Vellaren guards, her uncles, cousins, her kin littered the hallway like discarded dolls. Their blood painted the walls, pooled into the rugs.

Leira shrieked. "Your Highness, what..."

Rael stepped forward.

Without hesitation, he drove his sword through her.

The blade exited through her back with a sickening sound. Leira gasped and crumpled.

Maren tried to run. She made it halfway across the room before another figure appeared-a man

in black with silver tattoos across his neck. Rael's right hand enforcer.

He grabbed Maren by the hair and slit her throat.

Seraphyne couldn't scream. She couldn't move.

This wasn't real.

It couldn't be.

Her wedding was today. Her family was downstairs. Her father was General Vellaren. No one dared move against them.

And yet....

She was the only one left standing.

Rael's eyes gleamed as he approached her, no longer the tender prince who had once recited poetry in the gardens. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward. "Did you think I wanted you, Selarys?" he whispered with venom. "Did you think your pretty eyes and noble blood could win me over?"

He flung her to her knees.

She heard a sound then-a soft, mocking laugh.

Footsteps.

Another figure entered.

A woman dressed in bridal gold, her veil sheer enough to reveal her face beneath.

Isandra Vellaren.

Her cousin.

The cousin who had always smiled a little too sweetly, stayed a little too close to Rael, asked too many questions.

"Poor Seraphyne," Isandra said as she stepped over the fallen maids, her voice thick with mock pity.

"You always thought you were so special. The treasured daughter. The golden flame."

She turned and kissed Rael.

Seraphyne watched as they both laughed.

Mocking her.

"I used you," Rael said coldly. "Your family's strength, their loyalty. The Vellaren name meant access-strategic positions. Troops. Weapons. But you? You were always just the key."

"You told me you loved me," Seraphyne whispered, her voice breaking.

His lip curled. "I said what I needed to."

She wanted to kill him. Wanted to rise from her knees and rip his throat open with her bare hands.

But her limbs felt heavy. Her heart thundered against her ribs.

"I saw you as an equal," she said through gritted teeth.

"You were a stepping stone," Isandra snapped. "And now you're obsolete."

He raised his sword.

"Goodbye, my love."

The blade plunged into her chest.

She choked.

Agony blossomed through her ribs, down her spine. Blood spilled from her lips.

She collapsed to the floor, vision blurred, breaths ragged.

Rael bent down and whispered, "This empire will burn. And you will be the first ember extinguished."

With one final push, he kicked her down the steps of the altar they had built.

As she tumbled, everything became weightless.

Time slowed.

She saw flashes of her childhood.

Her father's voice. Her brother's smile. Her sister's laughter. Her mother brushing her hair. Her uncle's lessons in swordplay. The first time she bled in battle. The first time Rael held her hand.

Gone. All gone.

She landed hard. Her body broken.

Her heart gave out.

As darkness closed in, a soft voice echoed in her mind.

"Let vengeance be your final vow."

A flame ignited deep within her.

And just before her soul unraveled....

She laughed.

Laughed through the blood, through the ruin, through the shattered pieces of her dignity.

"If there is a next life," she whispered with her dying breath, "I will return and I will burn you all."

And the world fell silent.