The palace had never felt so alive.
Velvet banners in crimson and silver rippled from the towers, fluttering with the wind like royal fire. Musicians played along the stone balconies. Courtiers drifted from hall to hall, their laughter light and meaningless, just like the champagne in their crystal flutes.
Everyone smiled for us today. They bowed, they toasted, they praised the gods.
It was our birthday, after all.
The twin heirs of the Virellian Empire—Seraphina and Caelan—had turned twenty.
And this year was special.
Because after this birthday, one of us would become heir apparent. The Council had reached its decision. The coronation was only weeks away.
I already knew the truth, of course. So did Caelan.
The Council had chosen me.
"Don't look so tense," Caelan murmured beside me, lifting a glass in lazy salute as yet another noble clumsily bowed.
"I'm not tense," I said, adjusting the collar of my formal coat.
"You've already broken two wine glasses tonight," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"That was an accident."
"Of course it was." He clinked his glass against mine. "Happy birthday, sister."
I nodded. "You too."
We stood side by side beneath the chandelier, the empire's favorite mirror image. I in deep crimson. He in regal blue. The guests whispered about how handsome we looked, how balanced the court would be with me as the head and Caelan at my side.
They whispered a lot of things. I heard more than they thought.
As the night wore on, the ballroom began to thin. Nobles wandered toward the banquet hall, seeking desserts or drama. I let the music fade behind me as I slipped out onto the balcony for air.
The stars were bright. The city below shimmered with light and motion. Everything was perfect.
So why did I feel... restless?
That's when I saw him.
A figure cloaked in black. Moving too quickly. Too deliberately. Slipping past the west courtyard entrance—the path to the royal wing.
No one else seemed to notice.
I glanced over my shoulder. No guards. No attendants.
Without thinking, I followed.
The palace halls grew quieter the deeper I went.
My heels clicked against the marble, muffled by the heavy silence. The air shifted. Something felt off. The figure turned a corner ahead, his cloak swishing just out of reach.
"Wait—!" I whispered, but he vanished into the shadows.
Damn it.
I reached the corridor that led to my parents' chambers. The two guards stationed there were gone. That's when my pulse spiked.
Where were they?
Then I heard it.
A muffled shout. The sound of a heavy thud. Something scraping—metal against stone?
My chest tightened. I ran the last few steps and pushed the door open.
Time stopped.
The scent hit me first. Blood. Thick and sharp in the air.
My eyes adjusted slowly.
The chamber was dim, moonlight slicing across the room in cold lines. The drapes had been torn. The chairs overturned. And at the center—
My father lay still on the floor, crimson spilling beneath him.
My mother—her hand outstretched toward him—was slumped against the wall. Her eyes were wide. Empty.
Standing in front of them was a man in a black cloak.
He turned slowly toward me.
A sword dangled from his hand.
The blade dripped red.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't even scream.
But before I could speak, my breath caught again—because there, near the other side of the room, stood—
Caelan.
His tunic was blood-spattered.
He looked just as shocked as I felt.
"Seraphina...?" he said.
My voice failed me.
What was he doing here?
Why was my brother in the room with our dead parents and a man holding a bloody sword?