The village of Velmora was tucked quietly between two ranges of fog-laced hills, surrounded by fields that whispered secrets to the wind. It was a place where the sun rose in soft hues of lavender and where time moved slowly, as if guarded by something ancient and unseen. In Velmora, stories were passed not in books, but in gazes—particularly, in blue-eyed gazes.

For centuries, the people of Velmora believed in a sacred tradition: Every blue-eyed prince born into the royal family must marry a blue-eyed girl born in the village. It wasn’t just custom—it was prophecy. A seer long ago claimed that the purity of the royal line and the harmony of the land depended on the union of two blue-eyed souls. No one questioned it. Not even the crown.

And so, when King Alaric and Queen Evelyne were gifted with their first child—Prince Kevin—on a winter morning, his piercing blue eyes were celebrated not only as a blessing but as destiny. The king’s closest friend, Lord Cyrus, had also just become a father. Believing the stars had aligned for both families, the two men pledged that Kevin would marry Cyrus’s daughter, Elara, who was due within the week.

The whole village rejoiced. Gifts were offered. A monument was even built in the royal garden honoring the unborn couple, “The Future of Velmora.”

But destiny had its own plans.

Elara was born healthy and beautiful, but her eyes were a warm hazel—not the blue that marked prophecy. At first, Lord Cyrus thought it would change. But months passed. Then years. Her eyes remained the same: no trace of blue.

The Queen tried to console him, “What matters is her heart, not her eyes.”

But King Alaric wasn’t so forgiving. The promise made was not just between two families—it was made before the village, before the spirits of Velmora.

And then, quietly, unnoticed by most, another girl was born. She came from the low cottages by the orchard, daughter of Elias, a loyal stableman. Her name was Suzi. Her family had no status, no name written in the records of the royals. But the moment she opened her eyes, Elias froze. They were the most brilliant shade of blue he’d ever seen—deeper than twilight, clearer than crystal.

He had heard the prophecy, of course. Who hadn’t? But never had he imagined that the child of a worker could be the key to Velmora’s future.

The Queen found out a few weeks later—she visited the orchards in disguise, as she sometimes did when she longed to escape the palace. That’s when she saw Suzi, sleeping peacefully under an olive tree. Those unmistakable eyes glinted in the shade.

She knew.

But she also remembered the promise.

“Remove her from sight,” she whispered coldly to Elias. “We will provide for her. But she must never speak of her eyes.”

Black lenses were made for Suzi—thin, perfectly fitted to cover the truth. At the same time, blue lenses were gifted secretly to Elara. The switch was silent, buried beneath velvet lies and the rustling of royal robes.

From then on, the girl born of the palace was seen as the destined bride. And the girl born of the stables... forgotten.

But eyes remember.

And so do hearts.

And deep in the stillness of Velmora, beneath its quiet hills and misty skies, the truth waited.

For the prince would grow.

And so would love.

And secrets never stay hidden forever.

Years passed in Velmora like water carving silently through stone. The village changed little—its traditions held firm, its secrets buried deeper. Children grew, seasons shifted, and among whispers and wind, the two girls—Elara and Suzi—blossomed into young women.

Elara, with her golden hair and carefully maintained blue lenses, was adored. She was raised within the palace walls, taught courtly grace, poetry, and how to walk beside the future king. Her tutors praised her for her poise; the Queen guided her through royal expectations. To all who saw her, she was the perfect match for Prince Kevin. Her beauty was rehearsed, her smile memorized.

But behind those carefully curated expressions, Elara lived in quiet fear. Every morning she checked her eyes before the mirror. Every night she removed the blue lenses and stared at her true reflection. Hazel. Warm, but wrong. Not the eyes of a queen—not in Velmora.

Meanwhile, Suzi grew like a wildflower on the edge of the orchard. She had no tutors, no silk gowns—just dirt on her skirts and laughter in her voice. Yet something in her could never be disguised. Her presence turned heads. Even beneath the black lenses she was forced to wear, there was an air about her—strange, magnetic. Her father, Elias, watched her with both pride and guilt. Each time she asked about her lenses, he lied.

“They’re for protection,” he told her. “Your eyes are sensitive.”

“But they don’t feel sensitive,” she once replied. “They feel... hidden.”

Elias said nothing.

Suzi knew there was something more. She could sense it in the way villagers looked at her sometimes, with flickers of confusion or hesitation. As if she reminded them of something—or someone—they couldn’t quite name.

Then came the day everything began to stir.

A royal announcement spread through the village:

Prince Kevin would return from his travels abroad.

The prince had spent the last seven years in the Northern Kingdoms, studying diplomacy, battle arts, and tradition. Letters arrived once every few months—formal, guarded. No one truly knew the man he had become.

But now, at twenty-four, he was coming home. And preparations for his betrothal to Elara would begin.

The village erupted in celebration. Banners of silver and sapphire fluttered from every rooftop. Girls practiced curtsies; mothers whispered of weddings and fortunes.

Suzi felt none of that joy. Her heart stirred with something else—a sense of unease.

That evening, as dusk fell over Velmora and lanterns flickered to life, Suzi climbed the hill above the orchard, the place where she often went to think. The air was cooler there, and the stars always seemed closer.

She removed her black lenses.

No one was around.

She blinked, feeling the cool breeze kiss her bare eyes. They shimmered in the fading light—unhidden, unashamed.

For a moment, she was herself. Just herself.

Far below, at the village gates, trumpets sounded. A royal carriage pulled through the mist.

Prince Kevin had arrived.

And from his window, through the blur of twilight, his gaze lifted toward the hill.

And for a single heartbeat, he saw her.

A girl standing alone.

With eyes like the sky before a storm.

To be continued.........

The sun had set by the time Prince Kevin stepped inside the gates of Velmora Palace, but the night around him shimmered with noise. Velvet banners billowed in the warm wind, and torchlight danced across stone walls like restless spirits.

The villagers had gathered in clusters at the outer courtyard, their cheers muffled by awe. Seven years had passed since they last saw him—he was no longer the curious boy who once played hide-and-seek in the rose maze. Now, he stood taller, with broad shoulders and a silence that clung to him like a cloak.

Kevin offered a polite smile as he nodded to the Queen and King, but his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—kept drifting toward the hills beyond the orchard.

He had seen something.

Someone.

But when he looked again, the hill was empty.

"She reminded me of something," he murmured to himself later that night, standing at the tall windows of his chamber. His fingers traced the chilled glass. His thoughts were tangled, distracted.

A girl, alone on the hill.

The wind in her hair.

Eyes like his.

But surely it was just a trick of the light… wasn’t it?

Far from the palace, in the quiet of the orchard house, Suzi sat at the edge of her small bed, combing her fingers through her loose hair. The room was dim, lit only by a single candle.

Her lenses—those suffocating black shields—rested on the wooden table.

She could still feel the weight of his gaze.

Even from that distance, something within her stirred, something she didn’t understand. A flutter in her chest, soft as silk, and just as easily torn.

She hadn’t seen him clearly—not really—but what she had felt was undeniable.

And dangerous.

The next morning came with silver clouds and low, steady winds. Velmora awoke slowly, still humming with the energy of the prince’s return. In the palace, the air was thick with preparation. Florists filled the halls with winter blossoms. Seamstresses bustled between rooms with silk and lace. The Queen summoned Elara at sunrise.

“You must be ready, Elara,” Queen Evelyne said firmly, adjusting a comb in her golden hair. “The prince will meet you today. He must see you as he remembers—poised, gentle, and... radiant.”

Elara nodded quietly, her hands folded in her lap.

Behind her composed face, her stomach twisted.

She hadn't worn the lenses yet that morning.

When the Queen left the room, Elara slowly walked to her mirror. She reached for the tiny velvet box and opened it.

Inside, the blue lenses waited—silent guardians of a truth she had never chosen to hide.

She stared at her reflection. The girl who stared back looked noble. Polished. Lovely.

But not true.

With a sigh, she placed the lenses in, blinking back the sting. The transformation was instant. And with it, a silent grief returned—like a shadow that followed her every step.

In the royal gardens, Kevin strolled alone, as he always preferred. He wandered past the marble fountain and paused beneath the old olive tree, the one from his childhood. The breeze carried the scent of damp earth and lavender.

He stood still for a while, eyes closed.

He didn’t notice the gardener trimming the ivy by the archway. A girl with loose curls and worn gloves.

Suzi.

She kept her head low, back turned, careful not to look up. But she could hear his steps on the gravel. Her breath caught as he paused just a few feet from her.

He didn’t speak.

Neither did she.

But something passed between them—unseen, unspoken.

When Kevin finally moved on, Suzi dared to glance over her shoulder.

And in that one stolen look, she knew:

He hadn’t recognized her.

Not yet.

But . inside him had.

To be continued.........