Natalia wove her way through the labyrinthine halls of the Vulpus Solarium, her long temple robes swishing along the dark marble stone. The air was thick with the scent of incense and old magic, the kind her ancestors had practiced for thousands of years.

She was very early. Her important meeting with the elders had been scheduled for sundown, but she hoped to get it over with now. She couldn’t rest easily in the library. She couldn’t study, couldn’t practice her magic. She could barely keep her eyes open. She desperately wanted to settle matters and then return to her chambers and rest.

For weeks now, her sleep had been plagued with nightmares. Visions of fire, of her own death, and a deep sense of betrayal and unrest had sat heavy in her chest. Her mentor, Elder Ryieron, had told her not to worry—that a witch as powerful as she was meant to have visions and dreams, but not to always put stock into what they tried to tell her.

“Leave your interpretations to the dream weavers,” he’d advised. “They know best.”

But tonight felt very different. The air was charged, as if something was coming to a head. She felt it in her very bones.

Turning a corner, she stopped in front of a thick wooden door, its edges worn from centuries of use. It led to the council chambers of the Vulpine elders, where they gathered and made decisions for the clan. Though they were a council of traditional old men, they were the closest thing she had to family and had raised her since the age of ten to be her most powerful self.

But Natalia had become deeply unhappy. After months of trying to hide it, she knew she couldn’t any longer. It was finally time to confront the council, to stand up for herself, and improve her life.

Otherwise, she would threaten to leave the Solarium for good.

When Natalia had been ten years old, she was chosen by the gods—out of twelve other young girls—to become the Vulpus Witch Queen. She was the fated child of prophecy, the one who would lead their clan to greatness, and so her life would never be the same.

That evening, her mother had taken her by the hands, her eyes swimming with tears.

“Mama,” Natalia had whispered, “why are you crying?”

Her mother’s voice trembled as she spoke. “I cannot see your future anymore, my little fox. Yet I sense that danger will follow you like a shadow, and your path will be filled with choices that I cannot protect you from.” She cupped Natalia’s face in her hands. “Trust only yourself. Know that you are powerful, and remember, I will always love you. No matter what happens.”

Before Natalia could respond, her father had stepped in, gently pulling her mother away.

“Hanna, you must let her go,” he had said, his voice strained. “They will arrive any moment to take her away. She belongs at the Solarium now.”

“Ferris—” her mother had cried, but he only shook his head gravely.

“The prophecy cannot be undone.”

His gaze had then flicked to Natalia, his own heart heavy with the weight of what she was about to face.

Though her parents tried to smile, to offer comfort in their own way, Natalia knew even then that the mantle of the Vulpus Witch Queen wasn’t just a title—it was a heavy responsibility. A future sealed by prophecy, one that had already begun to take root, pulling her away from everything she’d known.

In the years since, she had ceased to be that happy little girl, and even though her title was that of spiritual royalty, the Elders still had all the power and influence over their people. They used her powerful stores of mana to protect the clan. For them, Natalia shielded their location, diverted humans who got too close to the Northern Mountains, attended every festival, ritual, birth and holiday. She was little more than a shiny figure in purple robes, which accentuated her fox-red hair and the glittering mana stones she wore. She was the most powerful witch in their clan, her bloodline was pure, and her magic unmatched. 

Yet her eyes, which shone both black and gold—markers of destiny—were always downcast.

In the beginning, she’d believed the stories. She believed she was special and that she was chosen for something greater than herself. But with time, the weight of those rituals and relentless expectations had drained her of any illusion of freedom. The Elders controlled her every move, every spell, every gesture that she made. They dictated her spiritual path, listened while she prayed to the gods, and shaped her into their symbol of peace and security—yet they never allowed her to stand as her true self.

Natalia was no longer even sure who her true ‘self’ was anymore.

The Witch Queen had become a shell. A beautiful, powerful shell, perhaps, but still hollow inside. Her power had been honed, refined into something deadly and sacred. Yet she had never been allowed to choose what she would do with it. Her every decision was a reflection of the fox clan’s will, not her own. She protected the clan, the people that needed her, but no one ever asked her what she needed. What she wanted.

Over the last fifteen years, as her happiness decayed inside her, Natalia’s suspicions had grown.