CHAPTER 20 — BLOOD AND SHADOWS
Aria woke—or at least she thought she had. The room was dark, though faint moonlight seeped through the curtains, casting silver streaks across the floor. Her heart raced, her palms were clammy, and a chill ran down her spine. The remnants of the dream clung to her like a shadow she couldn't shake.
In the dream, she had been lying on the cold stone floor, her sun-kissed yellow hair starkly white, her skin pale as snow. Blood—her own, though she could not tell—stained the floor beneath her. Her body ached with a heaviness that wasn't there when she awoke, yet the memory of the pain pressed on her like a tangible weight.
Beside her, a girl knelt, silver hair cascading like molten moonlight, her pale eyes brimming with sorrow. She cried silently, reaching out but never touching, her tears falling onto the stone. Aria did not know her name, but there was something hauntingly familiar in the girl, a sorrow that made her heart ache.
And then he appeared—Kael. Alpha, protector, yet broken in the dream. He knelt beside Aria, his strong hands hovering uselessly over her, tears streaming down his face. The sharp lines of his jaw softened in grief, and for the first time, Aria saw a vulnerability in him that unsettled her profoundly.
The girl with silver hair whispered something, though Aria could not hear the words. She could only feel the sorrow, the desperation, and the quiet promise that this moment was not an ending, but a warning.
Aria tried to speak, to move, to reach out—but her voice had abandoned her, her limbs refused to obey. She could only watch as the girl's tears fell, as Kael's shoulders shook with silent anguish, and as the room, drenched in blood and shadows, closed around them.
Then it shattered.
She woke fully, gasping, her body trembling. Moonlight spilled across her room, and the sheets beneath her were damp with sweat. The vision lingered like a ghost in her mind: silver hair, pale eyes, tears, blood, and Kael—crying beside her.
Aria pressed her back to the pillows, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her mind tried to grasp meaning from the vision, but the edges were hazy, fragmented. Yet one thing was painfully clear: the dream had left an imprint of fear, a sense of danger she could not ignore.
Minutes passed—or maybe hours—though the moonlight had shifted only slightly. Aria's eyes remained wide, staring at the ceiling, her body stiff. She had barely begun to calm her racing heart when a soft, deliberate knock sounded at the door.
"Princess Aria?" a voice called, smooth and polite, though laced with authority. "It is time for your morning routine."
Aria's stomach twisted. She had expected her usual maid, Mira, but instead, Seraphina entered the room. Her presence was serene, almost too perfect, and yet there was something sharp and calculating in her gaze. Seraphina carried herself with a confidence that seemed at odds with her position as a servant, and her eyes swept the room with an unnerving precision.
"Good morning, Princess," Seraphina said, her tone soft yet commanding. She did not fail to notice the fear still lingering on Aria's pale face, the way her hands trembled slightly as she clutched the sheets.
Aria forced herself to sit upright, brushing a hand across her hair as if that could erase the remnants of her dream. "Good morning," she murmured, though her voice was uncertain.
Seraphina's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "I see the events of last night troubled you," she said lightly, stepping closer. She moved with quiet grace, her eyes never leaving Aria's. "Do not worry, Princess. Today will be pleasant. You have your duties, and I am here to ensure everything is prepared for you."
Aria nodded slowly, unable to shake the feeling of unease. There was something about Seraphina—calm, observant, almost predatory—that made her skin crawl. Yet she could not place it. She could only obey, as she always had, following the maid's instructions with a trembling hand.
Seraphina, noticing the hesitation, allowed her eyes to linger on Aria a moment longer, drinking in the fear without a word. Then she turned, preparing the room and arranging Aria's garments for the day, all the while maintaining the facade of the perfect, attentive servant.
And Aria, still trembling from the dream and the silent scrutiny, realized with a shiver that this morning—and every morning to come—would not be as simple as it seemed.
Because in the quiet presence of Seraphina, fear was never far, and the echoes of silver hair and pale eyes from her dream lingered in the corners of her mind, whispering that danger was closer than she could imagine.
Aria woke—or at least she thought she had. The room was dark, though faint moonlight seeped through the curtains, casting silver streaks across the floor. Her heart raced, her palms were clammy, and a chill ran down her spine. The remnants of the dream clung to her like a shadow she couldn't shake.
In the dream, she had been lying on the cold stone floor, her sun-kissed yellow hair starkly white, her skin pale as snow. Blood—her own, though she could not tell—stained the floor beneath her. Her body ached with a heaviness that wasn't there when she awoke, yet the memory of the pain pressed on her like a tangible weight.
Beside her, a girl knelt, silver hair cascading like molten moonlight, her pale eyes brimming with sorrow. She cried silently, reaching out but never touching, her tears falling onto the stone. Aria did not know her name, but there was something hauntingly familiar in the girl, a sorrow that made her heart ache.
And then he appeared—Kael. Alpha, protector, yet broken in the dream. He knelt beside Aria, his strong hands hovering uselessly over her, tears streaming down his face. The sharp lines of his jaw softened in grief, and for the first time, Aria saw a vulnerability in him that unsettled her profoundly.
The girl with silver hair whispered something, though Aria could not hear the words. She could only feel the sorrow, the desperation, and the quiet promise that this moment was not an ending, but a warning.
Aria tried to speak, to move, to reach out—but her voice had abandoned her, her limbs refused to obey. She could only watch as the girl's tears fell, as Kael's shoulders shook with silent anguish, and as the room, drenched in blood and shadows, closed around them.
Then it shattered.
She woke fully, gasping, her body trembling. Moonlight spilled across her room, and the sheets beneath her were damp with sweat. The vision lingered like a ghost in her mind: silver hair, pale eyes, tears, blood, and Kael—crying beside her.
Aria pressed her back to the pillows, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her mind tried to grasp meaning from the vision, but the edges were hazy, fragmented. Yet one thing was painfully clear: the dream had left an imprint of fear, a sense of danger she could not ignore.
Minutes passed—or maybe hours—though the moonlight had shifted only slightly. Aria's eyes remained wide, staring at the ceiling, her body stiff. She had barely begun to calm her racing heart when a soft, deliberate knock sounded at the door.
"Princess Aria?" a voice called, smooth and polite, though laced with authority. "It is time for your morning routine."
Aria's stomach twisted. She had expected her usual maid, Mira, but instead, Seraphina entered the room. Her presence was serene, almost too perfect, and yet there was something sharp and calculating in her gaze. Seraphina carried herself with a confidence that seemed at odds with her position as a servant, and her eyes swept the room with an unnerving precision.
"Good morning, Princess," Seraphina said, her tone soft yet commanding. She did not fail to notice the fear still lingering on Aria's pale face, the way her hands trembled slightly as she clutched the sheets.
Aria forced herself to sit upright, brushing a hand across her hair as if that could erase the remnants of her dream. "Good morning," she murmured, though her voice was uncertain.
Seraphina's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "I see the events of last night troubled you," she said lightly, stepping closer. She moved with quiet grace, her eyes never leaving Aria's. "Do not worry, Princess. Today will be pleasant. You have your duties, and I am here to ensure everything is prepared for you."
Aria nodded slowly, unable to shake the feeling of unease. There was something about Seraphina—calm, observant, almost predatory—that made her skin crawl. Yet she could not place it. She could only obey, as she always had, following the maid's instructions with a trembling hand.
Seraphina, noticing the hesitation, allowed her eyes to linger on Aria a moment longer, drinking in the fear without a word. Then she turned, preparing the room and arranging Aria's garments for the day, all the while maintaining the facade of the perfect, attentive servant.
And Aria, still trembling from the dream and the silent scrutiny, realized with a shiver that this morning—and every morning to come—would not be as simple as it seemed.
Because in the quiet presence of Seraphina, fear was never far, and the echoes of silver hair and pale eyes from her dream lingered in the corners of her mind, whispering that danger was closer than she could imagine.