Chapter 2: Princess of Dusk

The city didn’t recognize her anymore.

She moved like a shadow, silent and unnoticed. The old streets where she once played now bore new names. Her favorite rosewood tree in the courtyard of the East Garden was gone—cut down to make space for a fountain dedicated to Prince Rael’s victories. The city had buried her memory under stone and silence.

But Elira remembered everything.

The market woman who once gave her apples for free now stood older and greyer, handing a slice of melon to a noble child with gold-stained lips.

The temple bell that had rung on the day she was born now tolled for her brother.

And the palace—oh, the palace—still gleamed like a jewel. Her prison. Her home. Her grave.

She stood on the roof of an abandoned inn, cloaked in raven-black, staring at the spires of her past life.

Kael stood beside her, arms crossed.

“You’re bleeding,” he said.

Elira glanced down at her palm. A deep cut, still fresh.

“Training spell went wrong,” she muttered.

“Or your rage is slipping.”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she whispered an incantation, and the wound sealed itself shut, leaving behind a trail of silver light. Her blood had changed long ago—no longer red, but touched by the cursed magic she now wielded.

Kael watched her carefully. “You know what tonight is?”

Elira nodded. “The Festival of Light. The night Rael lights the Flame of Purity. The whole city will be watching him.”

Kael’s voice dropped. “And you’ll make them look away?”

She turned to him, her face half-lit by the dying sun. “No. I’ll make them remember.”

---

A Queen in Silence

Far across the city, in the high tower of the palace, Queen Seraphine stood before her mirror. She wore layers of violet silk and sapphire, but none could mask the shadow behind her eyes.

Since the last blood moon, she had begun seeing things.

Footsteps in empty halls.

A voice whispering her name in the dark.

A girl’s laugh echoing down corridors where no child lived.

She placed her hand on the cold mirror.

“Elira,” she whispered. “Forgive me.”

Behind her, a maid entered quietly. “Your Majesty, it’s time for the procession.”

Seraphine nodded and wiped her tears. Queens did not cry in public.

But she felt it. The shift in the air.

The ghost in the wind.

The princess they left behind was returning.

---

The Gathering of the Cursed

In the ruined catacombs beneath the city, a fire crackled.

Dozens of figures sat in silence. They wore rags, bones, war paint. A mix of cursed warriors, outcasts, exiled mages, and half-breeds rejected by society. Each bore the mark of suffering. Each had lost something to the throne.

And each had found their way to Her.

Elira stepped forward, unhooded. Her silver eyes glowed faintly in the firelight.

“You know who I was,” she said. “A princess once. A name on a birth scroll. A child sacrificed for a lie.”

She raised her hand. Black flames curled around her wrist like vines.

“You know what they took from me.”

A murmur of anger rose.

“They call you monsters. They call me a curse. So let us become exactly what they fear.”

The ground trembled faintly. Dust fell from the ceiling.

“I will not promise mercy. I will not promise peace. But I promise this—every stone that built this kingdom will remember us.”

The cursed rose in unison. Fists to their chests.

“To the Empress,” Kael called.

“To the Empress,” they roared.

---

The Flame of Purity

Nightfall.

The entire city stood at the Great Courtyard, waiting for Prince Rael to light the sacred flame.

He wore white robes lined with gold, a ceremonial crown of jade and fire opals. His face was calm, but his heart beat strangely. Something felt wrong. Off.

He lifted the torch.

The crowd cheered.

Drums thundered.

He stepped toward the ancient brazier at the center of the plaza.

And then—

A cold wind swept through the square.

Lanterns flickered.

The flame in Rael’s torch died.

Gasps. Murmurs. Confusion.

And then a voice echoed from the rooftop of the old clock tower.

“You can’t burn truth with holy fire.”

All heads turned.

And saw her.

All eyes turned upward.

A figure stood tall atop the crumbling clocktower, silhouetted by moonlight. Her cloak billowed like black wings. Her voice rang out across the plaza, not loud—but commanding. Chilling. Familiar.

“Elaria once had a princess. Do you remember her?”

Whispers spread like wildfire.

“Who is she?”

“No... it can’t be...”

“Elira?”

Prince Rael’s torch clattered to the ground. His hands trembled.

“Elira,” he whispered.

She stepped forward. The crowd gasped. Her face had changed—sharper, older, a jagged beauty carved by time and fury—but her eyes were unmistakable. Silver, like twin moons.

Alive.

The Princess of Dusk had returned.

---

Panic in the Square

“Guards!” barked General Vos, unsheathing his sword.

Archers scrambled to the palace walls. Magic-bound soldiers began summoning protective wards. People screamed and pushed, fleeing the square.

But Elira raised a hand, and the wind itself bent to her command.

A gale swept through the courtyard. The flame at the brazier—so sacred, so symbolic—exploded, sending a shockwave through the temple columns. Ash rained down like snow.

Elira’s eyes glowed with a black sheen. She wasn’t hiding anymore.

“I was cast out for a prophecy I never made,” she said, “but now I return as the prophecy fulfilled.”

Lightning crackled in the sky.

“I am not your princess.”

Her voice echoed.

“I am your punishment.”

---

Memories in the Firelight

From across the square, Rael stood frozen. His breath caught in his throat. The child he had once protected…the girl he had cried for after her exile… now wielded dark power with terrifying grace.

She looked like vengeance wearing a crown of flame.

He stepped forward.

“Elira!”

Her gaze snapped to him.

For a moment, something faltered in her. Something soft. Her fingers curled, and her lips parted slightly.

The boy she once loved. The one person who had never hurt her.

And yet—he hadn’t saved her either.

She masked the flicker of pain behind cold steel.

“There is no Elira,” she said. “Only the Empress now.”

---

The Escape

Suddenly, black smoke erupted around the clocktower. When it cleared, she was gone.

Guards ran in every direction, but there was no trace. Only ash. Only fear.

Rael stood alone in the chaos, his crown askew, the flame unlit. The people looked to him with panic.

But he could only whisper, “She’s back.”

---

In the Shadows

Deep within the catacombs, Kael pulled Elira into the light. “You almost got yourself killed!”

She smiled bitterly, blood on her lip. “You think I didn’t plan for this?”

He threw down his dagger. “Showing yourself to the whole city? That wasn’t the plan.”

“It is now,” she snapped. “The city needed to see me. To remember me.”

Kael shook his head. “You’re not ready for war.”

She turned to the mirror in the chamber. Her reflection shimmered—her face now marked by runes only she could see.

“I’m not starting a war,” she whispered.

“I’m becoming one.”

---

Back in the Palace

Queen Seraphine fainted upon hearing the news.

The King called an emergency council. The guards tripled their patrols. Magical barriers were summoned to protect the palace gates.

And Prince Rael?

He stood alone on the balcony, watching the distant rooftops.

He remembered her laugh. Her dreams of peace. Her softness.

He remembered her crying in his arms, just hours before she was taken away.

Could she really want revenge? Or was there something left of her—of Elira—still inside?

He made a decision.

“I’ll find her myself.”

---

Closing Scene: A Throne of Ash

Later that night, Elira stood before a stone throne hidden beneath the ruins. One day, it would be hers.

The cursed knelt at her feet.

The moon above turned red again.

She closed her eyes, and the voices of the dead sang to her.

“Soon,” she whispered.

And the shadows answered, “Empress.”

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***