The village of Elourne had always lived in the shadow of silence. Tucked between green hills and tangled woods, it was the smallest and most forgotten of the four kingdoms. No magic pulsed in its soil. No armies marched through its fields. Elourne was quiet, and the people liked it that way.
But sometimes, quiet places are the ones the world forgets to protect. Vivian was already awake before the rain started.
The sound of it against the cottage roof made her body tense. Not because she disliked the rain—Lily, her younger sister, rain made things grow. But for Vivian, it made old memories return. It brought her back to that night. The night their parents never came home. The smell of wet earth. The eerie silence afterward. She'd been only nine then, holding Lily's small hands as thunder shook the sky.
Ten years had passed. But the rain still made her breath catch. She sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her fingers through her dark curly hair, trying to ignore the chill creeping up her spine. Her hazel eyes, usually calm, now seemed stormy. Lily stirred beside her , groaning as she rolled under the blanket.
"Up," Vivian said gently. "We promised Mrs. Hart we'd stop by early."
"Why does bread need to be picked up before sunrise?" Lily mumbled,
"Because she insist her loaves taste best when they're still warm."
"And because she wants you to marry her son."
Vivian groaned. "Not again."
"She told me yesterday he's learning to sew," Lily added helpfully. "So he can stitch your wedding dress."
Vivian tossed a pillow at her.
They got dressed quickly, pulling on their shawls against the drizzle, and stepped outside into the damp morning air. The village square was still waking—smoke curling from chimneys, a few chickens wandering between puddles. Elourne never truly hurried.
Mrs. Hart's bakery stood near the well, its windows glowing warmly. As they approached, the scent of cinnamon and yeast welcomed them. The door creaked opened before Vivian could knock.
"Good heavens, you're early." Mrs. Hart said, flour dusting her cheeks. "Or perhaps I'm late. Either way—Vivian darling, you look pale. Were you dreaming of my boy again?"
"She wasn't." Lily answered cheerfully.
Mrs. Hart clicked her tongue. "You're too picky, Vivian. If you keep waiting for a prince, you'll end up alone with a dozens of cats."
"Cats sounds lovely," Vivian murmured.
They exchanged some coins and left with two warm loaves wrapped in cloth. Just as they stepped outside a familiar voice called from the direction of the well.
"You're up early."
Nathan stood with his sleeves rolled up and a basket over one arm, water dripping from his light brown curls. He was tall, with kind eyes and an easy grin that had softened many arguments in Elourne.
"Nathan," Lily said brightly. "Did your father send you on errands too?"
He nodded. "He's packing again. Council meeting in Ashmoor."
"Again?" Vivian asked. "That's the third time this month."
"He's trying to earn a permanent spot in the palace" Nathan explained, glancing at er. "I help when I can. The council's always short on scribes."
Lily leaned forward. "You've been there right? The Palace?"
Nathan nodded again. "Twice now."
"Have you ever seen the king?"
He gave a soft laugh. "No one sees the king. I don't think even the council does. They say he listens from behind a curtain like some kind of ghost."
Vivian frowned. "That's comforting."
Nathan hesitated. "Actually… that's why I wanted to find you."
He lowered his voice.
There's going to be a ball. At the palace. The Midsummer Ball. And… you two are invited.'
Vivian blinked. "What?"
My father said your names were on the list. It's official—something about honoring the village. A royal carriage will come for you.
Lily's mouth parted, stunned. "The palace? We've never even left Elourne."
"And we're not going," Vivian said quickly. Her voice was sharper than intended, but her heart was racing.
"It might be dangerous," she added. "No one from here has ever been invited to anything like this. And the king—she trailed off
They all knew the stories.
Cassian, the ruker of Ashmoor, had never taken a queen. His kingdom sat in the center of the realm, surrounded by three others—Duskmoor, home to pale and immortal; Nytherra, ruled by beasts who answered to the moon; and Veyruun, where flames whispered to those with no soul. The fourth kingdom, Valeria, once known as the land of angels, had vanished generations ago.
And yet Cassian remained, untouched by time, commanding a throne of shadow.
Lily touched her arm. "But what if it's real? What if it's meant for us?"
Vivian shook her head. "Or what if it's a trap?"
Nathan looked uncertain. "My father didn't say much. Just that you'd know soon enough. But… refusing isn't exactly an option."
Vivian stared down at her hands, fingers tightening around the warm bread. Rain tapped softly on the rooftop around them.
She didn't feel chosen.
She felt hunted.