The golden light of dawn filtered through the tall stained-glass windows of the Entrinnian palace, casting fractured rainbows across the marble floor. Princess Inina (ninteen) stood alone on the balcony overlooking the sprawling city below, the early morning breeze tugging gently at her dark hair. Despite the beauty of the scene, her heart was heavy.

She could see the distant borders where Entrinnia met Ivor—her father’s kingdom at war with the neighboring realm for over a decade now. Smoke still rose from battlefields, and the memory of lost lives hung thick in the air.

Today was the day everything would change.

Inina’s fingers curled around the cold stone railing. A letter had arrived at dawn, sealed with the mark of King Darrin of Ivor. It bore a decree she had dreaded for months: to end the war, she was to marry Prince Kael (25) of Ivor—the very enemy who had cost her people so much.

“Princess,” came a soft voice behind her. Lady Veyra, her handmaid and confidante, stepped onto the balcony, her expression unreadable. “The council awaits your presence. The king is prepared to announce the treaty.”

Inina didn’t turn. “They have decided without me. As if I were a prize to be handed over.”

Lady Veyra placed a gentle hand on Inina’s shoulder. “It is your duty. Your sacrifice may bring peace.”

Inina’s jaw clenched. “Peace at what cost? To marry the son of the man who has sent soldiers to burn our villages? Who has taken everything from us?”

Lady Veyra sighed but said nothing further.

Inside the throne room, a hush fell as Inina entered. The council members, stern-faced and robed in dark silks, sat in carved chairs, their eyes heavy with the weight of decision.

King Aldric, her father, sat upon the throne, his usually strong features worn thin with worry. He looked up as she approached, pain flickering in his eyes.

“My daughter,” he said softly, “this is the only path to end the bloodshed. The people of Entrinnia suffer, and the war must end.”

Inina met his gaze, searching for any hesitation, any doubt. But there was none.

A herald stepped forward and unrolled the decree, voice ringing clear through the vaulted chamber.

“By the will of King Aldric of Entrinnia and King Darrin of Ivor, a treaty of peace is hereby declared. To seal this accord, Princess Inina of Entrinnia shall wed Prince Kael of Ivor at the next full moon.”

A cold silence followed.

Inina spoke, her voice steady though her heart pounded wildly. “And if I refuse?”

The king’s eyes darkened. “Then the war continues, and more lives are lost. Your choice is not yours alone.”

The weight of the throne pressed down upon her shoulders, heavier than any crown.

As Inina turned away from the council, the faint warmth of a star-shaped birthmark at her collarbone prickled beneath her gown—a secret she had hidden all her life. She did not know then that this mark was the key to powers ancient and terrible, powers that would shape not just her fate but the fate of kingdoms.

The doors closed behind her with a thunderous echo.

The battle for peace—and for her own heart—had just begun.

The morning sun spilled through the tall windows of the Entrinnian palace, bathing the halls in a warm glow that belied the tension lurking beneath the surface. Courtiers moved about in hushed whispers, their eyes filled with a mix of curiosity, doubt, and barely concealed disdain. The news of the treaty and Inina’s impending marriage to Prince Kael had spread like wildfire—and not all were pleased.

Inina sat by the window in her private chamber, her fingers tracing the delicate embroidery on her gown. The letter from King Darrin (Kael's Father) lay unopened on the desk beside her—a cold reminder of the fate sealed without her consent.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

“Come in,” she called.

Lady Veyra entered, carrying a tray with a small cup of steaming tea and a bundle of freshly folded clothes.

“You should eat something,” Veyra urged gently, setting the cup down. “You will need your strength.”

Inina managed a faint smile. “Thank you, Veyra. I’m just... trying to accept what must be done.”

Veyra’s gaze softened as she moved closer. “It is not easy. But you are not alone in this.”

Inina nodded but her mind was elsewhere. “They speak of peace, but what peace comes from marrying the son of my enemy?”

Veyra hesitated. “Peace is often born of sacrifice.”

Before Inina could reply, a messenger arrived, his boots echoing in the hallway. He handed her a sealed scroll embossed with the silver crest of Ivor.

Inina broke the seal, unrolling the parchment carefully.

Princess Inina of Entrinnia,

By decree of King Darrin of Ivor, an emissary will arrive this day to escort you safely to Ivor’s borders. There, Prince Kael awaits your arrival to unite our kingdoms.

She read the words twice, her heart tightening. This was no mere formality—it was a summons, a demand wrapped in diplomatic language.

Hours later, the palace buzzed with news: the emissary had arrived.

Inina’s escort was Commander Corval Rane, a tall man clad in polished black armor, etched with the silver of Ivor’s royal standard. His expression was unreadable, his dark eyes sharp and calculating.

“Princess Inina,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “It is my duty to see you safely to Ivor.”

Inina stood tall despite the knot of anxiety twisting in her stomach. “Then I hope your duty is a loyal one.”

Corval’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Loyalty to the prince and the crown, yes. But I am a soldier first.”

The courtiers whispered among themselves, casting furtive glances at the princess and her escort. Some with sympathy, others with cold skepticism.

As preparations for departure began, Inina sought a moment alone. She pressed her hand to the hidden birthmark beneath her gown—the star-shaped mark that had always been her secret and her burden.

A whisper stirred in her mind, fragments of ancient prophecy and forgotten magic. The mark burned faintly, a promise of power yet untamed.

Lady Veyra approached quietly, placing a reassuring hand on Inina’s arm.

“You carry more than a crown, Princess,” she said softly. “You carry the hope of Entrinnia.”

Inina’s breath caught. Hope. It felt fragile, like glass balanced on a blade.

The path ahead was uncertain, the journey dangerous. But she would not falter.

Not yet.

The pale light of dawn seeped through the lace curtains of Inina’s chamber, casting soft shadows across the room. The scent of lavender and fresh parchment mingled in the air, but it did little to calm the storm inside her.

Today, she would leave Entrinnia.

She stood before the ornate mirror, studying her reflection. Her dark hair was pinned back with silver combs shaped like leaves, and her gown of deep emerald silk shimmered faintly in the morning light. A gift from her mother, who had passed when Inina was still a child. The gown felt heavier than ever now, like a shroud woven from expectation and sacrifice.

Inina traced a finger over the star-shaped birthmark at her collarbone, hidden beneath the fabric. A secret she had carried since birth, one she barely understood but that had always set her apart.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Come in,” she called.

Lady Veyra entered quietly, holding a small bundle of parchment scrolls and a satchel of herbs.

“I have prepared everything for your journey,” Veyra said gently, placing the scrolls on the desk. “Maps, messages for allies, and remedies for the road. You will need them.”

Inina nodded, swallowing the lump rising in her throat. “Thank you, Veyra. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Veyra’s dark eyes softened. “You are stronger than you think. Remember that, always.”

Inina took a deep breath, steadying herself. The weight of what lay ahead was nearly suffocating, but there was no turning back.

Outside, the palace began to stir with activity. Courtiers hurried past her window, soldiers prepared their horses, and distant bells tolled, signaling the hour.

Her father, King Aldric, had requested one final meeting before her departure.

The great oak doors to the council chamber creaked open, and Inina stepped inside.

King Aldric stood near a large map table, his usually stern face drawn tight with worry. His silver hair caught the morning light, and his gaze held a mixture of pride and sadness.

“Inina,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “You bear a heavy burden—not just as my daughter, but as a symbol of peace for Entrinnia.”

She met his eyes. “I understand, Father. But sometimes I wonder if I am merely a pawn in this game of kings.”

He stepped closer, placing a weathered hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps. But even pawns can change the course of the board.”

A faint smile tugged at Inina’s lips. “I will try.”

He nodded, then turned to the gathered council. “Prepare the escort. At midday, Commander Corval Rane will lead Princess Inina’s journey to Ivor. May the gods watch over her.”

As the council dispersed, Inina lingered a moment, her gaze drifting back to the window.

Beyond the palace walls, the fields of Entrinnia stretched wide and green—soon to be behind her.

Her heart ached with both fear and determination.

She was not just leaving home.

She was stepping into a destiny written in fire and shadow.

And the mark beneath her skin pulsed with growing power, whispering secrets she was only beginning to hear.