The rain never stopped in Seoul.

It fell on cracked sidewalks, on flickering neon signs, on the hunched shoulders of a girl walking home with a paper bag of expired groceries.

Her name was **Yoon Seo-ah**.

Seventeen. Orphan. Invisible.

She didn’t have friends.

She didn’t have a family.

But she had dreams — dreams of castles, of fire, of a voice calling her *“Princess…”* in a language she didn’t know.

That night, the dream felt closer than ever.

As she crossed the street, she saw it — a child, chasing a red balloon into traffic.

Tires screeched.

Time slowed.

And without thinking, Seo-ah ran.

A flash of headlights.

A scream swallowed by the storm.

Then… silence.

She lay in the gutter, rain washing pink through the blood on her temple.

People gathered. Phones recorded. No one touched her.

*“Is she…?”*

*“Call an ambulance.”*

*“Too late. She’s gone.”*

Seo-ah closed her eyes.

And then — a whisper, deep inside her soul:

> *“You were never meant to die in the rain.”*

> *“You were meant to wear a crown.”*

> *“You were the firstborn heir… the Crimson Princess.”*

A warmth spread through her chest.

Not pain.

Not fear.

But memory.

🌑

She gasped awake.

Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, painting golden patterns across marble floors.

Silk sheets. Pillars wrapped in ivy. A silver crown resting on a velvet pillow — not worn, but *waiting*.

She sat up — too fast. Her head spun.

*“Where… am I?”*

The door burst open.

A woman in a maid’s uniform froze, eyes wide.

Her hands trembled.

She dropped the tray.

Porcelain shattered.

*“N-no… it can’t be…”* she whispered. *“You’re dead. You died as a baby. You were never born!”*

Seo-ah stared at her.

*“What are you talking about?”*

The maid backed away.

*“The phantom child… the cursed twin… the one they erased from the royal records!”*

Royal?

Twin?

Cursed?

Before she could speak, a sharp pain burned through her wrist.

She rolled up her sleeve.

There — a mark.

A **crimson sigil**, shaped like a flame with three veins, pulsed under her skin.

And then… it **glowed**.

### 🔥

A nearby candle **exploded into fire**.

Not from the wick.

From *her*.

The flames didn’t burn her. They **answered** her.

The maid screamed and fled.

Seo-ah trembled, staring at her hands.

*“What… is this?”*

Memories flooded in — not hers, but *hers*.

A woman weeping in a moonlit chamber.

Twins wrapped in silk — one handed to a knight, the other kept.

A prophecy carved in stone:

> *“When the Crimson Princess returns, the empire shall burn.”*

But then — a second voice, softer, desperate:

> *“No… not burn. **Remember.**”*

### ⚔️

Boots echoed in the hall.

Men in silver armor stormed in — royal guards, blades drawn.

*“Seize the impostor!”* their captain shouted. *“She bears the cursed mark! She threatens the Prince!”*

Seo-ah backed against the wall.

*“I’m not an impostor! I don’t even know where I am!”*

*“You are no princess,”* the captain sneered. *“The only heir is Prince Lucien. You are a demon wearing a dead girl’s face.”*

Her wrist burned again.

The sigil **blazed red**.

And without thinking, she raised her hand.

A wave of **crimson fire** erupted from her palm — not to destroy, but to **push**.

The guards were thrown back.

The door slammed shut.

She ran.

Through hallways that felt like dreams.

Past portraits of a royal family — a king, an empress… and a boy with ice-blue eyes.

Lucien.

Her brother.

The one who took her place.

🌹

She collapsed in a forgotten garden, vines choking the statues of forgotten queens.

A shadow moved.

A man stepped from the trees — cloaked in black, a sword at his side, a flame-shaped scar across his cheek.

He knelt.

*“I’ve waited ten years for you, Princess.”*

She trembled.

*“Who… are you?”*

*“Kael Ardentis. Last of the Flame Guard. Sworn to protect the true heir.”*

He bowed his head.

*“You were never meant to die in the rain.”*

*“You were meant to return… and reclaim what was stolen.”*

Above them, the sky darkened.

And for the first time in a decade, the **Crimson Sigil** on her wrist stopped burning.

It sang.

🔚 End of Chapter 1

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The garden was silent, wrapped in ivy and forgotten prayers.

Seo-ah stared at the man kneeling before her — **Kael Ardentis**, the last of the Flame Guard. His cloak smelled of ash and old battles. His eyes, sharp and gold like embers, never left hers.

*“You… know who I am?”* she whispered.

*“I know what was stolen,”* he said, rising slowly. *“The Crimson Princess — firstborn of the Valmoran bloodline. Born under the Eclipse of Flames. Marked by the True Sigil.”*

He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small, tarnished locket.

Inside — a faded portrait of a woman holding **two babies**.

One wrapped in white silk.

One in red.

*“Your mother,”* Kael said. *“Empress Elindra. She gave birth to twins on the night the stars burned red. You were the elder — born with the sigil glowing on your wrist. But the High Oracle declared you a threat.”*

Seo-ah’s breath caught.

*“A threat? Why?”*

*“The prophecy said: *‘The Crimson Princess shall burn the empire.’* So they hid the truth. Announced only one heir — Prince Lucien. And sent you into the mortal world to live… and die… in obscurity.”*

Her hands trembled.

*“But I didn’t die as a baby. I lived. I grew up. I—”*

*“—died saving a child,”* Kael finished softly. *“And the universe remembered. The flame within you never went out. It waited.”*

He stepped closer.

*“You weren’t reincarnated, Princess. You were **called back**. The empire is dying. Magic fades. Crops fail. Children are born without oaths. Because the **true heir is absent**.”*

Seo-ah looked down at her wrist.

The sigil no longer burned — but it **pulsed**, like a heartbeat.

*“So… I’m not a fraud?”*

Kael’s voice turned fierce.

*“You are the only one who is real.”*

### 🌌

That night, in a hidden chamber beneath the garden, Kael lit a circle of red candles.

*“The Crimson Flame isn’t just fire,”* he said. *“It burns **lies**. It awakens **forgotten memories**. But it demands a price — your life force. Every use shortens your time.”*

Seo-ah touched a candle.

The moment her skin met the flame —

**her mind exploded with visions.**

### 🌀 **Flashback: The Night of the Eclipse**

A palace in chaos.

Priests chanting.

The sky bleeding red.

A young Empress, pale and sweating, holds two newborns.

*“She is first!”* a midwife cries. *“The sigil appears on her wrist — she is the True Heir!”*

But the High Oracle steps forward — eyes blind, voice cold.

*“She will destroy us. The prophecy is clear.”*

The Empress weeps.

*“Then let her live… but not as a princess.”*

A knight takes the red-wrapped baby — Seo-ah — and vanishes into the storm.

The white-wrapped twin — Lucien — is presented to the court.

*“Our one and only prince,”* the king declares.

And the world forgets.

### ❄️

Seo-ah gasped, snapping back to the present.

Tears streamed down her face.

*“I was never dead,”* she whispered. *“I was erased.”*

Kael handed her a dagger with a hilt shaped like a flame.

*“Then remember. And learn to fight.”*

But before training could begin, a **sharp pain** shot through her chest.

She clutched her heart.

And in her mind — a voice.

Not Kael’s.

Not the Empress’s.

A boy’s.

*“…Why does this flame feel like home?”*

### 🏰

In the royal palace, **Prince Lucien** stood before a mirror.

His ice-blue eyes narrowed.

He had dreamed again — of fire. Of a girl with black hair and red eyes, calling his name.

He touched the candle on his desk.

The flame flickered — then **turned crimson for a single second**.

He froze.

*“Impossible,”* he muttered. *“Fire magic doesn’t exist anymore. Not since the Crimson Line died.”*

But his hands were trembling.

And deep in his chest… something **ached**.

A memory?

A bond?

A sister he never knew?

His advisor entered.

*“Your Highness, the guards report a disturbance in the East Garden. A girl… with a burning mark.”*

Lucien’s voice turned cold.

*“Then find her. And bring her to me.”*

Not to kill.

Not to imprison.

But to **understand**.

🔚 End of Chapter 2

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The underground chamber beneath the garden was cold, lit only by flickering crimson candles.

Seo-ah stood in the center, trembling — not from fear, but from the **weight of memory**.

Kael circled her, sword in hand.

*“The Crimson Flame isn’t controlled by force,”* he said. *“It answers to **truth**. To pain. To the soul’s cry.”*

She clenched her fists.

*“Then why won’t it listen to me?”*

She reached for the fire.

Nothing.

She tried again — harder, angrier.

A weak spark sputtered from her fingertips… then died.

*“I’m not a princess,”* she whispered. *“I’m just a girl who died in the rain.”*

Kael’s voice softened.

*“Then don’t summon the flame as a princess. Summon it as **Seo-ah**. The girl who saved a child. The one who never stopped believing in stories.”*

She closed her eyes.

And remembered:

— The foster home. Cold floors.

— The school bench where no one sat beside her.

— The last thing she saw before dying: a child’s hand, safe in her own.

Her wrist burned.

The **Crimson Sigil flared**.

And from her palm — a **wave of fire** surged, not wild, but **focused**, like a voice finally speaking after a lifetime of silence.

The candles roared to life.

The walls trembled.

Kael smiled — the first real one she’d seen.

*“Good. Now you’re not just using magic. You’re **remembering**.”*

---

🔥

But the flame had consequences.

The next morning, whispers spread through the palace like wildfire.

*“The demon girl has returned.”*

*“She summoned cursed fire in the dead of night.”*

*“She’ll bring the prophecy to life.”*

Seo-ah moved through the halls like a ghost, Kael a shadow at her back. Servants averted their eyes. Guards gripped their weapons tighter.

Then — the accident.

A marble pillar in the East Wing cracked during renovations.

A young maid — no older than Seo-ah — stood directly beneath it.

No one moved in time.

But Seo-ah did.

She **lunged**, shoving the girl aside — as the pillar collapsed.

Dust filled the air.

And then… silence.

Until the crowd saw it.

Her **hand**, pressed against the rubble — **glowing crimson**.

With a gasp, she **pulled**.

And the shattered stone **levitated**, lifted by invisible fire, as if the rubble itself obeyed her will.

The maid stared, trembling.

*“You… saved me?”*

Seo-ah nodded — just once.

But the captain of the guard stepped forward, voice booming.

*“She used forbidden magic! She is not of royal blood — she is a **demonic vessel**!”*

The crowd turned.

Fists clenched.

Stones were raised.

*“Burn the impostor!”* someone screamed.

---

👑

From a balcony above, **Prince Lucien** watched.

His ice-blue eyes narrowed.

He had come to investigate the rumors — but what he saw wasn’t a demon.

It was a girl — small, bruised, standing between a crowd and a servant.

Protecting the weak.

Just like **he** had been taught to do.

And when she raised her hand, fire dancing like a second pulse in her veins…

His chest **ached**.

Not fear.

Not anger.

**Recognition.**

His advisor whispered, *“Shall we have her arrested, Your Highness?”*

Lucien didn’t answer.

Instead, he stepped forward — and raised his own hand.

A wave of **frost** shot down, sealing the cracked floor, calming the dust.

The crowd fell silent.

He descended the stairs, boots echoing like judgment.

Seo-ah turned to face him.

Their eyes met.

Hers — burning crimson.

His — cold ice.

And for a single heartbeat… the air between them **shimmered**.

Not with hostility.

With **memory**.

Lucien stopped a few feet away.

His voice was calm. Controlled. But beneath it — something cracked.

*“You used magic to save a life.”*

She nodded.

*“Then why,”* he asked, *“do they call you a demon?”*

Before she could answer, the High Oracle stepped forward — a robed figure with milky eyes.

*“Because she bears the mark of destruction,”* the Oracle intoned. *“The Crimson Flame brings only ruin. She must be sealed — for the safety of the empire.”*

Lucien’s gaze didn’t leave Seo-ah.

*“And if the empire is already dying?”* he said quietly. *“What if the flame… is the cure?”*

A murmur spread.

Even the Oracle hesitated.

Lucien turned to the guards.

*“She is not to be harmed. She is to be **watched**.”*

Then, to Seo-ah — so softly only she could hear:

*“Why does your fire feel like… home?”*

---

🔚 End of Chapter 3

Thank you for reading my stories! 🙏 If you enjoy my work, please consider supporting me by subscribing, liking, and leaving comments. Your gifts and votes mean the world to me! 🌟 Every bit of support helps me keep creating new and exciting stories for you. Let's build a wonderful community together! 📚💕"