The forest smelled of burnt sugar and rot.

Jade Violet Alexander tugged her hood lower, her boots crunching over brittle leaves and charred bones. The Ashenwood was forbidden, but that’s why she’d come. Her father’s warnings rang in her ears: “Only fools and corpses wander there.” She was no fool, and she refused to be a corpse. Not yet.

“You shouldn’t be here, Princess.”

The voice was raw, like gravel dragged over stone. Jade froze. Ahead, a boy slumped against a blackened oak, his wrists shackled to its trunk. Ash dusted his hair like premature grey, and his eyes—storm-cloud grey, sharp as shrapnel—locked onto hers.

“You’re alive,” she breathed, stepping closer.

“Disappointed?” He smirked, rattling his chains. “Your father’s men left me here to die. Guess they forgot to check if I’d finished rotting.”

Jade crouched, studying the shackles. The royal crest—a lion devouring a rose—glinted on the rusted metal. Her father’s work. “What did you do to deserve this?”

“Existing.” His smirk faded. "I’m Edward. Edward Galloway.”

The name struck her like a slap. *Galloway*. Traitors. Liars. The family that nearly burned Agmeygv to the ground. She recoiled, but Edward laughed bitterly.

“There it is. The Alexander flinch.” He yanked his chains, blood welling at his wrists. “Run home, Princess. Tell your father you saw the monster.”

Jade hesitated. His voice was venom, but his hands… they trembled. She reached for the lock.

“Don’t.” Edward’s voice cracked. “You don’t know what I am.”

“You’re a person,” she said, “and I’m not my father.”

The lock clicked. Edward slumped forward, gasping. Instinctively, Jade caught him, her hands brushing his.

The world erupted.

Vines burst from her palms, glowing jade-green as they knit his wounds. But the oak behind them groaned, its bark splitting like screams. Leaves withered and fell, and the air reeked of sulfur.

“Stop!” Edward tore away, but the damage was done.

Fire.

It spread hungrily, devouring the brittle underbrush. Smoke clawed at Jade’s throat as she stumbled back. “We have to run!”

Edward stood frozen, ash swirling around him like a shroud. “This is what I am,” he said softly. “This is always what I am.”

“Move!” Jade grabbed his arm, dragging him as flames licked at their heels. They crashed through the treeline, collapsing in a field as the inferno roared behind them.

Below the hill, villagers spilt from their huts, screaming. A child wailed as fire swallowed her home. Jade lurched forward, but Edward yanked her back.

“You can’t save them.”

“I have to try!” She tore free, sprinting into the smoke.

She found the girl first—small, soot-streaked, clutching a singed doll. Jade scooped her up, magic surging. Vines erupted, smothering the flames, but the roots turned black and brittle. The roof collapsed.

A man tackled her, his face twisted with rage. “Witch!” He snatched the girl. “You and your demon cursed us!”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Burn with him!”

Stones rained down. Edward dragged her away, his grip iron. She didn’t fight.

---

That night, in the palace crypts, Jade scrubbed ash from her nails. Edward leaned against a coffin, his scars silver in the torchlight.

“They hate me” she whispered.

“Hate is what rulers earn.” He tossed her a rusted key—the one she’d dropped in the Ashenwood. “Love is what they steal.”

“Why did your father do it?” she asked. “Why betray Agmeygv?”

Edward’s eyes darkened. “For the same reason you freed me. Stupidity. Hope.” He stood, fading into the shadows. “Sleep well, Princess. Tomorrow, you become a rebel."

The stench of smoke clung to the palace like a funeral shroud. Jade stood at her chamber window, watching the Ashenwood smolder in the distance. Villagers’ shouts drifted up—"Witch!” “Traitor!”—as Julien’s soldiers dragged charred bodies from the ruins.

A knock. Her mother, Queen Catherine, entered without waiting. Her face was marble, but her eyes betrayed fear.

Catherine: “Your father knows you were in the Ashenwood."

Jade: "Let him rage. I saved a life.”

Catherine: “You lit a fuse. That boy… Edward. He’s Mark’s son, isn’t he?”

Jade froze. “You knew?”

Catherine’s voice cracked. "I tried to save him. But some curses can’t be undone.”

Beneath the city, in a tavern reeking of ale and treason, rebels huddled around a map. Their leader, Garrick (a grizzled war deserter), stabbed a dagger into Agmeygv’s crest.

Garrick: "The princess burned the Ashenwood. Julien’s weakness is showing.”

A Rebel: “Or she’s just another spoiled royal playing with fire.”

Garrick grinned, tossing a charred rose onto the table—a symbol from the blaze. “Either way, we’ll use her. Spread the word: the Ashmarked Princess fights for us.”

Julien paced his war room, his crown askew. Reports piled high: Rebel sightings. Famine. A missing prince from a rival kingdom. His advisor, General Rook (a man with a falcon’s glare), cleared his throat.

General Rook: "The people blame you for the fire. They say Jade’s magic is a blessing.”

Julien: “Magic? That’s Galloway poison! Find Edward. Cut out his tongue before he whispers more lies.”

General Rook: “And the princess?”

Julien’s fist clenched. "She’ll learn the cost of defiance.”

Jade found Edward in the palace crypts, tracing names on dusty coffins. “Looking for your father’s?”

Edward: “Mark Galloway doesn’t deserve a tomb. He deserves to be forgotten.”

Jade:“Then why stay here?”

He turned, eyes glinting. "Because your family buried more than bones.”He kicked a loose stone, revealing a hidden compartment—a ledger detailing Julien’s bribes, assassinations, and stolen land.

Jade: "This… this can’t be real.”

Edward: “Burn it, and you’re complicit. Use it, and you’re queen.”

That night, assassins slipped into the palace. Jade awoke to steel at her throat.

Assassin: “The king sends his love.”

Before she could scream, shadows erupted. Edward disarmed the man, snapping his neck with a sickening crunch.

Jade: "You killed him!”

Edward: "And you’re welcome.” He tossed her a dagger. "Next time, don’t hesitate.”

Jade: "Why save me?"

Edward: “Because you’re the only one who doesn’t look at me like I’m a monster.”

Catherine confronted Julien in his chambers, her composure shattered.

Catherine: “You sent killers after our daughter!”

Julien: “She’s no daughter of mine. She’s Mark’s spawn, just like that boy!”

Catherine: “You’re wrong. But if you touch her again, I’ll burn this throne myself.”

In the crypts, Jade and Edward pored over the ledger by candlelight.

Jade: “We’ll expose my father. Tear down his lies.”

Edward: “And when the dust settles? You’ll be left ruling ashes.”

Jade: “Then we’ll plant something new.”

He smirked, lifting a wine goblet. "To the Ashmarked Queen and her cursed advisor.”

They drank, the candle flickering—a tiny flame in the dark.

Beyond the palace walls, Garrick’s rebels marched, their torches cutting through the night. A scout brought word: "The princess is with the Galloway boy. They’re vulnerable.”

“Then we strike at dawn. For Agmeygv.”

The rebels roared, their chants echoing like thunder.

The crypt air thickened with the weight of secrets as Jade’s finger traced a line in the ledger detailing grain shipments diverted during famine. "He starved his own people to fund the border forts? To intimidate Galloway?" Her voice was a rasp, disbelief warring with fury.

Edward blew out the candle plunging them into near-total darkness. "Listen," he hissed. Footsteps echoed distantly above – too heavy for servants, too purposeful. Palace guards? Julien’s personal sentinels? Or worse? "We linger, we die. Your mother bought you a night, Jade. No more."

He guided her through the pitch-black labyrinth, his knowledge of the crypts uncanny. They slipped behind a massive sarcophagus, its stone cold against Jade’s back, as torchlight flickered at the entrance. Muttered curses faded as the searchers moved deeper. "My father's men," Edward whispered, a grim satisfaction in his tone. "Julien wouldn't trust his own guards with this hunt."

Catherine stood rigid by the cold fireplace, the echo of her threat – *"I'll burn this throne myself"* – still hanging in the perfumed air. Julien hadn't flinched. He’d merely poured himself more wine, the ruby liquid catching the lamplight like blood.

Julien: (Taking a slow sip) "Your theatrics tire me, Catherine. Burn it? You haven't the spine. You never did." He set the goblet down with deliberate force. "Mark Galloway corrupted everything he touched. His seed poisons this palace. That *boy* is his viper, and Jade…" He paused, his eyes flat and cold. "Jade is the kindling he uses to ignite rebellion. She must be contained. Or extinguished."

Catherine: "Contained? Like you contained Mark? By shoving a dagger in his back during a parley?" The accusation, long buried, exploded into the open.

Julien surged to his feet, knocking the goblet over. Wine spread across the map of the kingdom like a fresh wound. "He was planning treason! Conspiring with those northern savages! I saved Agmeygv!"

Catherine: "You saved your crown, Julien. And damned your soul. Touch Jade, and you will learn the spine I found *after* you murdered the man I loved." She didn't wait for his reply. She swept from the room, leaving the King trembling, not with fear, but with incandescent, impotent rage. He bellowed for Rook.

Garrick watched the first streaks of light bleed into the sky above the palace walls. His rebels, a motley band of desperate farmers, disillusioned soldiers, and angry townsfolk, huddled in the shadow of a granary just outside the city's secondary gate. The charred rose was pinned to his worn jerkin. A scout, mud-spattered and panting, crouched beside him.

Scout: "Guards at the main gates doubled. The King’s Falcons are prowling the inner courtyards. But the old servant's passage… beneath the eastern wall near the stables… it’s lightly watched. Two men, bored."

Garrick grunted, sharpening a wicked-looking skinning knife on a whetstone. "The crypts connect near there. That’s their bolt-hole." He spat. "Rook’s predictable. He thinks like a siege engineer, not a rat-catcher." He stood, his bulk imposing against the paling sky. "We hit the passage. Subdue the guards quietly. Then we find the Ashmarked Princess and her pet viper *before* Julien does. Remember, she’s the symbol. The Galloway boy… he’s leverage. Or a corpse. Depends on his usefulness." A murmur of agreement rippled through the rebels. Torches were doused; only the grim set of their faces remained visible. "For Agmeygv!" Garrick growled, low and fierce.

Jade pushed aside the heavy, rusted grate, wincing at the screech of metal. Cold, damp dawn air washed over them, a relief after the tomb's closeness. They emerged into a neglected corner of the palace gardens, overgrown hedges shielding them from view of the main paths. The scent of smoke was fainter here, replaced by dew and earth.

Edward scanned the mist-shrouded grounds, dagger already in hand. "Stables," he murmured. "Horses. We need to be gone before the palace fully wakes."

Jade nodded, clutching the wrapped ledger beneath her cloak. Her hand trembled slightly, the phantom sting of the assassin’s blade still cold at her throat. The shouts of "Witch!" echoed in her mind. "Where?"

"North," Edward said decisively. "To the Whispering Peaks. My father… Mark… had allies there. People who remember Julien’s treachery. People who might shelter a princess with fire in her hands and a king’s sins in her satchel." He offered a hand, not gentle, but steady.

Before she could take it, a guttural cry shattered the morning calm. From the direction of the stables came the clash of steel and a choked-off scream. Then another. Rebels, clad in roughspun and leather, burst from behind a topiary, their faces grim, weapons drawn. At their head, Garrick filled the garden path, his eyes locking onto Jade with predatory intensity.

"Well now," Garrick boomed, his voice cutting through the mist. "Looks like dawn delivers us our prize right to the doorstep." He gestured with his knife towards Jade. "The Ashmarked Princess, ready to lead the charge!" His gaze flicked to Edward, hardening into something colder. "And the Galloway whelp. Julien will pay a pretty penny for your head, boy. Or perhaps you’ll pay a different price for your usefulness." He took a step forward, the rebels fanning out, blocking the path to the stables, the path back to the crypt. "Come quietly, Princess. Your people await."

Jade felt Edward tense beside her, a low growl escaping his throat. Her own fear crystallized into something sharp and hard. She wasn’t Julien’s pawn. She wouldn’t be Garrick’s symbol. The ember of defiance, stoked by the ledger’s truths and her mother’s fury, flared. Her hand, hidden within her cloak, grew unnaturally warm against the leather binding of the ledger.

She met Garrick’s gaze, her voice clear, cutting through the tension. "My people," she stated, "are not led at the point of a traitor's knife." She took a deliberate step forward, not towards the rebels, but towards the space between them and the stables, putting herself directly in their path. Edward shifted instantly, a dark shadow at her shoulder, his eyes scanning for the first rebel to move.

The tiny flame she and Edward had toasted by in the crypt seemed a lifetime ago. Now, caught between her father’s assassins and the rebels who saw her only as a tool, Jade felt a different kind of fire ignite within her. The garden, veiled in dawn mist, became a battlefield. The Ashmarked Princess stood ready, not to flee, but to burn her own path through the gathering storm.