CHAPTER THREE: THE WHISPERS THAT BLEED

The Chamber of the Seven Flames – Nyxshire’s Inner Court

“Did you see her eyes?”

“She’s not mortal. No one from Sunfire looks like that.”

“Hair of snow, eyes of pearl… like the scroll said.”

The Chamber was cloaked in heat and secrecy. Seven sacred braziers burned around the circle of thrones, their flames dancing in hues not born of natural fire—sapphire, violet, green. Candles wept wax like blood onto the carved obsidian floor, and the nobles—draped in fur-lined robes and fear—circled each other like vipers in silk.

Behind jeweled goblets and rehearsed smiles, the whispers began.

A prophecy long dismissed.

A girl no one expected.

A spark in the ice.

---

Lord Varek, High Seer of Nyxshire, stood before the Flame Mirror, an arcane relic older than most bloodlines in the empire. The mirror shimmered, reflecting not faces, but truths not yet spoken. His breath fogged the glass as he read the ancient scroll—a scrap of forgotten prophecy once buried beneath the catacombs for over a century.

> “The White Flame shall walk among shadows.

Her light shall awaken the blood of kings.

And the one who claims her shall command the end of all things.”

“She has arrived,” Varek breathed, eyes wide with dread and wonder. “And the prophecy stirs.”

Behind him, Lady Seraphine—Zypher’s spymaster and whisper-gatherer—tightened her gloves with a sharp snap of leather.

“She’s not here by chance,” she said coldly. “Sunfire may have sent her for peace, but the gods sent her for war.”

---

Beyond the chamber, in palace halls glazed with frost, rumors slithered like smoke.

They said she touched the throne runes—and they glowed. Just faintly. But glow they did.

That she walked the palace without fear, as though she belonged to it—or it to her.

That Zypher hadn’t rejected her presence. And for a man who once ordered a noble executed for looking him in the eye too long, that was a sign.

But it was the servants who saw the most.

They whispered of the mirror in her room cracking without cause.

Of frost creeping across her wineglass moments before her fingers grazed it.

Of shadows curling in the corners of her chambers, murmuring words no one dared decipher.

And always… always, they spoke of her eyes.

---

Some believed she was Nyxshire’s salvation.

Others believed she was its ruin.

But one truth bound them all:

Zenaida Reyes was no longer just a princess.

She was a prophecy in motion.

And the realm was watching—with bated breath and drawn blades.

To Zenaida, it was all nothing, though she wasn't comfortable, she still had her inner conflict of having to get married to one who her heart never desired for. She kept on scanning through the palace, envisioning it as nothing but a prison, a place she can never escape. She wished she was back at Sunfire...

Home...

Where she belongs.

As she recalls her first glance at Zypher Lancaster, and felt a shiver ling chills down her spine.

Nothing much can be done, as now, she is no longer a Princess of her kingdom

But an Empress of an Empire that wasn't her home.

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