The morning sun spilled soft gold across the skies of Leilla, tinting the rolling hills and magical windmills in hues of lavender and pearl. It was Seraphina's first official day as the adopted daughter of Duke Zade and Duchess Selene Delvaux, rulers of the wind-blessed Leilla Dukedom.

The people of Leilla, lined the cobblestone streets, waving wind-blessed silk banners in celebration. They chanted her name with reverence and curiosity, their warm welcome a soothing balm to her still-anxious heart.

Inside the Delvaux Manor, the duke and duchess stood proud. Duchess Selene brushed a hand through Seraphina’s long hair and paused.

"It’s begun," she whispered, her voice quivering with emotion.

Seraphina turned to a nearby mirror. Her once purely silver-white hair now shimmered with a faint hue of lavender, and her eyes, once starlight-pale, had taken on a rich, gentle purple glow.

"It seems the winds of Leilla have accepted you, my dear," Duke Zade said, placing a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "You are truly one of us now."

Later that day, in the manor courtyard laced with violet wisteria, Seraphina was introduced to her personal guard.

"This is Riordan Kolt Lorvil," the duke announced. "He is newly knighted, but we trust his skill and heart."

Riordan stepped forward. He had dark violet hair tied loosely at the nape and piercing bluish-green eyes that gleamed with quiet intelligence. He bowed low, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"It is an honor to serve you, Lady Seraphina."

"Please, just Seraphina," she said, smiling.

Riordan blinked, momentarily disarmed. Most nobles held themselves with aloofness. But she… she was light.

"I’ll be in your care," she added softly.

Their gazes held just a second too long before both turned away—Seraphina with a pink flush, Riordan with a subtle tightening of his jaw.

In the quiet days that followed, a wordless rhythm grew between them. He accompanied her to stroll the breezy orchards and stood silently during her hours of shrine meditation. She noticed how he never walked too close yet never let his gaze wander far. When she stumbled over her gown, he offered his arm—not stiffly, but as if it were second nature.

One afternoon, as they sat beneath a plum tree watching the windmills dance, she broke the silence.

"You were a farmer’s son before you became a noble?"

He nodded, picking at a blade of grass. "My father still wakes at dawn to till the land, though we now own it. I suppose some roots are harder to pluck than others."

"I think it’s beautiful," she said. "To carry both the soil and the sword."

He looked at her then, a rare flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Most don’t think so."

"I’m not most."

Their quiet moment was interrupted by the sound of hooves and a royal trumpet call.

The royal carriage bearing the crest of the Emberspear family rolled to a stop at the gates.

Seraphina straightened, nerves tugging at her breath.

The doors opened to reveal Crown Prince Valerian, his black hair tousled by travel, his cloak of imperial silver and shadow trailing behind. Beside him, Princess Eilith Remara Emberspear descended with the grace of starlight.

"Why are they here?" She thought to herself.

Seraphina curtsied low. "Your Highnesses."

"No need to bow so deeply," Princess Eilith said with a warm smile. "We came as your friends today."

Valerian approached, his odd-colored eyes—gold and red—piercing. "You look… different," he said.

Seraphina touched a strand of her lavender-tinted hair. "Leilla’s magic is strong."

His lips twitched. "It suits you."

Princess Eilith took Seraphina’s hand and giggled. "You’ve become even more radiant. I’m so happy to see you well."

But beneath Valerian’s composed smile, something flickered. His hand brushed the pocket where his magic-suppression gem should have been, yet he felt no unease. No surging darkness.

Was it possible that Seraphina's presence alone was keeping the monster at bay?

From across the courtyard, Rio stood at a respectful distance. But his eyes, unreadable as they were, never left the prince’s hand lingering near Seraphina’s.

"How about we go to the manor’s garden so we can talk over there?" Seraphina suggested gently, still held in Princess Eilith’s arms.

"Yes, that would be lovely. May I request some chamomile tea?" the princess asked, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Of course," Seraphina replied, turning slightly toward her guard. "Rio, could you ask the maids to prepare chamomile tea and sweets in the garden while I entertain the Crown Prince and Princess?"

Rio nodded, carefully neutral despite the twitch in his jaw. "Yes, Seraphina."

Valerian, who had been quietly observing the exchange, lifted a brow the moment Rio turned away. His mismatched eyes—narrowed ever so slightly.

"Who is he?" the prince asked coolly.

"Oh, that’s Riordan, my personal guard," Seraphina replied, a faint smile curling on her lips as she looked after Rio.

"Personal guard?" Valerian echoed. "Then why did he call you by your name? Isn’t that... disrespectful?"

Seraphina met his gaze directly. "I allowed him to address me that way. He is not being disrespectful. And if I may, Your Highness... I would appreciate it if you refrained from judging others without understanding the context."

Her tone was calm, but her meaning was clear.

Valerian’s expression shifted, his lips tightening slightly. But before the tension could escalate further, Eilith stepped in with a chirp of laughter.

"Oh, come now, you two! Don’t start fighting." She looped her arm through Seraphina’s once more. "Lady Sera, would you show us the lavender fields? I’ve heard they smell divine."

Seraphina turned to her and smiled, the warmth returning to her features. "Of course, Your Highness. Will Prince Valerian be joining us?"

"Of course," Valerian answered swiftly, as if the thought of being left behind displeased him.

"Then let’s go," Seraphina said, leading the way toward the nearby lavender field.

The soft hum of bees and the sweet perfume of the flowers surrounded them. Eilith ran joyfully through the rows, laughing like a child, while Valerian lingered behind, watching Seraphina with quiet intensity.

After some time, Riordan returned with the carriage, stepping down to open the door for them.

"The garden is ready, Seraphina," he said, his voice low but respectful.

Seraphina’s smile grew brighter at the sight of him. She gave a small nod. "Thank you, Rio."

"Let’s go back, Your Highnesses," she added, turning to the siblings.

Eilith practically bounced as she wrapped her arms around Seraphina once again. "I haven’t had this much fun in ages! You must visit the palace sometime, Lady Sera. We have a rose garden, and I think you’d love it."

Seraphina chuckled. "I would love to visit someday. But for now, we should head back to the manor. The tea might grow cold if we wait too long."

"The maids can always serve a fresh one," Valerian said casually.

"I prefer to honor the efforts of my people, Your Highness," Seraphina replied, her voice light yet pointed. "As such, I do not want to waste what they’ve already prepared."

Valerian didn’t respond, but the flicker in his gaze suggested he understood the meaning beneath her words.

They returned to the manor and settled in the garden where the tea and sweets awaited them. The setting was charming—low sunlight filtering through blooming lilacs, pastries delicately plated, and steam rising from the tea set.

Valerian remained unusually quiet throughout, never once directing another personal remark toward Seraphina.

She, on the other hand, felt the air shift—subtle, but unmistakable. The quiet distance she had placed between them had taken root.

And beside her, ever steady, sat Rio.

That night, Seraphina stood alone by the balcony in her room, the moonlight illuminating the wind-charmed fields below.

She breathed in the scent of lilac and breeze—calm, steady, comforting.

Until something shifted.

A sudden chill enveloped her.

A flash—golden rings, a crimson veil, a royal coronation.

Then fire. Screams. The clash of metal. Her hands were bloodied.

And beside her, a familiar face twisted in pain and madness.

Valerian.

She gasped, clutching her chest as the vision faded.

Her knees buckled, but the wind outside whispered, cradling her back to calm.

Her heart pounded like a drumbeat of fate.

What was that? A prophecy? A warning?

Outside, the windmills continued to turn. But for Seraphina, the wind had shifted.