Bound to Him by Fate <ongoing>

The fire crackled softly in the corner, but its warmth did little to chase away the bone-deep chill that clung to the walls of Seraphina's office. The hour was late—too late—but sleep had long since abandoned her. Scrolls and reports were scattered across her desk, their inked words merging into a blur beneath the flickering candlelight, as though even the words themselves were reluctant to reveal their truths.

Seraphina pressed her fingers to her temples, willing the headache that had been building all evening to dissipate. News had arrived earlier—news that only deepened her unease and brought her a sense of foreboding.

The raiders were gone.

Vanished overnight, leaving no trace behind.

The scouts had returned from the eastern border with reports that no more fires had burned in the villages, no more bodies were scattered across the roads. Even the stolen caravans had been abandoned along the trade routes, their precious goods untouched, as though the attackers had never been there at all.

It was too clean. Too sudden.

Seraphina had spent hours combing through the reports, trying to decipher the enemy's movements. She searched for patterns, for strategies—anything that might shed light on this sudden, unsettling disappearance. But there was nothing. No trail to follow. No clues left behind.

The room grew heavier, suffocating under the weight of unanswered questions.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Enter," Seraphina called, her voice sharp, though her gaze remained fixed on the papers before her.

The door creaked open, and Marielle stepped in, her expression grim, as dark and heavy as the night beyond the palace walls. She carried a stack of scrolls, but Seraphina waved them away with a flick of her hand, her gaze unwavering.

"Tell me something useful," Seraphina said, setting down her quill, her tone clipped.

Marielle stepped closer, her voice steady but laden with an undercurrent of tension. "There's nothing new, Your Highness. The scouts have swept the borders twice. The raiders are gone—dispersed into the forests or retreated further east. No signs of camps, no tracks. It's as if they vanished without a trace."

"Vanished doesn't happen," Seraphina said sharply. She pushed back her chair and stood, moving toward the window as though the dark expanse beyond might offer an answer. Her fingers grazed the frosted glass, and her eyes scanned the horizon, searching for any sign, any disturbance that would break the eerie calm of the night. "Everything leaves a trace. People don't just disappear."

"Unless they were meant to," Marielle offered quietly, her words cutting through the stillness like a knife.

Seraphina turned to face her, her eyes narrowing. "You think someone called them back?"

"It's possible," Marielle replied, her voice steady but cautious. "Or perhaps their purpose was never to steal the supplies. Perhaps their true intent was to test us. To gauge our response. To watch how quickly we would move, how prepared we truly were."

The weight of Marielle's words settled on Seraphina's chest like a stone, heavy and unyielding.

"Double the patrols," Seraphina ordered, her voice low but filled with unshakable authority. "Have the scouts sweep the forests again. I don't care how far they have to go—they need to find something. Anything."

Marielle nodded, bowing her head. "I will see to it, Your Highness."

"Good. Now, get some rest," Seraphina added, though the suggestion felt hollow, a mere formality. She knew neither of them would sleep soundly tonight.

As Marielle turned to leave, she hesitated at the door, her expression softening, tinged with concern. "You should rest too, Your Highness."

Seraphina gave a slight nod but offered no response, her mind already turning over the next course of action.

The door clicked shut behind Marielle, leaving Seraphina alone again. She lingered at the window, her breath fogging the glass as she stared out at the city below, still and blanketed in snow. But the stillness was wrong—unnatural, as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to break the silence.

The fire behind her crackled, its warmth failing to ease the tension that clung to her every movement. She turned away from the window, gathering the dying flames of the candles one by one, snuffing them out. As each flicker of light extinguished, the shadows grew longer, creeping closer to her like dark tendrils.

A second knock broke the heavy silence.

"Enter," Seraphina replied, her voice quieter this time, as if the walls themselves were listening.

Lydia stepped in, a tray in hand, bearing a steaming bowl of broth and slices of fruit. Her presence, so warm and familiar, seemed a distant comfort in the midst of the cold.

"You need to eat, Your Highness," Lydia said softly, setting the tray down on the small table near the hearth, her eyes watching Seraphina with the tender concern of one who had seen too much of her suffering.

Seraphina barely glanced at the food. "I'm not hungry."

"You've said that every night this week," Lydia replied gently, her voice filled with quiet worry. "But you won't be able to lead anyone if you collapse from exhaustion."

Seraphina opened her mouth to argue but closed it again, too weary for another battle. She knew Lydia wouldn't leave until she'd eaten something, and the thought of another argument was more exhausting than the food itself.

"Fine." Seraphina sank into the chair by the fire, lifting the spoon with reluctant fingers.

Lydia remained nearby, her presence a soft reminder that Seraphina was not alone, even in the silence. She watched carefully, ensuring that Seraphina finished at least half the bowl before she cleared the dishes and excused herself, leaving Seraphina to her thoughts once more.

The door clicked shut softly behind Lydia, and the silence closed in again, wrapping the room in its cold embrace.

Seraphina finished the last few bites, then stood, her movements slow and measured. She retreated to her chamber, where the air was colder still, the shadows deeper. The ache in her bones demanded rest, but her mind refused to yield.

She slipped beneath the covers, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her, but sleep didn't come easily.

When it finally did, it was accompanied by dreams—dreams of fire, of swirling shadows, and of something unseen watching her from the dark. Something waiting. Something that had always been there, hidden in the silence before the storm.