Chapter 2: A Glimpse Behind the Veil

Years passed in Velmora like water carving silently through stone. The village changed little—its traditions held firm, its secrets buried deeper. Children grew, seasons shifted, and among whispers and wind, the two girls—Elara and Suzi—blossomed into young women.

Elara, with her golden hair and carefully maintained blue lenses, was adored. She was raised within the palace walls, taught courtly grace, poetry, and how to walk beside the future king. Her tutors praised her for her poise; the Queen guided her through royal expectations. To all who saw her, she was the perfect match for Prince Kevin. Her beauty was rehearsed, her smile memorized.

But behind those carefully curated expressions, Elara lived in quiet fear. Every morning she checked her eyes before the mirror. Every night she removed the blue lenses and stared at her true reflection. Hazel. Warm, but wrong. Not the eyes of a queen—not in Velmora.

Meanwhile, Suzi grew like a wildflower on the edge of the orchard. She had no tutors, no silk gowns—just dirt on her skirts and laughter in her voice. Yet something in her could never be disguised. Her presence turned heads. Even beneath the black lenses she was forced to wear, there was an air about her—strange, magnetic. Her father, Elias, watched her with both pride and guilt. Each time she asked about her lenses, he lied.

“They’re for protection,” he told her. “Your eyes are sensitive.”

“But they don’t feel sensitive,” she once replied. “They feel... hidden.”

Elias said nothing.

Suzi knew there was something more. She could sense it in the way villagers looked at her sometimes, with flickers of confusion or hesitation. As if she reminded them of something—or someone—they couldn’t quite name.

Then came the day everything began to stir.

A royal announcement spread through the village:

Prince Kevin would return from his travels abroad.

The prince had spent the last seven years in the Northern Kingdoms, studying diplomacy, battle arts, and tradition. Letters arrived once every few months—formal, guarded. No one truly knew the man he had become.

But now, at twenty-four, he was coming home. And preparations for his betrothal to Elara would begin.

The village erupted in celebration. Banners of silver and sapphire fluttered from every rooftop. Girls practiced curtsies; mothers whispered of weddings and fortunes.

Suzi felt none of that joy. Her heart stirred with something else—a sense of unease.

That evening, as dusk fell over Velmora and lanterns flickered to life, Suzi climbed the hill above the orchard, the place where she often went to think. The air was cooler there, and the stars always seemed closer.