The immortal's bride

The mark on the parchment haunted her dreams.

Aelia awoke with a jolt, sweat clinging to her skin despite the chill in the room. The message burned in her memory:

> "She is marked, yes. But so are you."

She turned toward the fireplace where the parchment now lay, half-burned at her command the night before. But even as the flames licked at it, the crimson mark hadn't faded.

It couldn't be destroyed.

Not by ordinary means.

Not by anything of this realm.

She rose, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, and stepped quietly into the night, leaving Elira safely guarded in her room. The hallways of the palace whispered with sleep, but Aelia's heart thundered.

She needed answers.

---

The old library, hidden in the west wing of the palace, was where the king once studied the Veilfire Wars. Most of it had been sealed off after the treaties were signed. Forbidden knowledge wasn't destroyed—it was buried.

She knew exactly where to look.

Behind a dusty tapestry depicting a long-forgotten battle, she found the narrow staircase that spiraled downward into darkness. Aelia lit a torch and descended, the echo of her footsteps swallowed by the damp stone walls.

The scent of aged parchment and ancient secrets clung to the air.

At the end of the hall was a door bound in silver root—a magical barrier. She remembered what Thorian once said about doors like these: they open only for those who carry the blood.

Her fingers brushed the handle.

It glowed faintly under her touch.

And then, with a groan of ancient hinges, the door opened.

---

The chamber beyond pulsed with energy. It was circular, with walls lined in tomes bound in blackened leather, the center dominated by a raised pedestal and an ancient book that hummed like it had a heartbeat.

Aelia stepped forward and opened it.

Flashes of memory—no, not hers—rushed through her: a woman with silver eyes wielding flame, a palace engulfed in light, screams swallowed by night.

Then… a child with a mark.

Her mark.

And the words beneath the image:

> "Veilblood: the cursed descendants of the fire realm, sealed into the bloodlines of mortals to protect—or destroy—the realm as balance demands."

She gasped.

The book responded, glowing brighter.

On her shoulder, just beneath the collarbone, a searing heat bloomed. She tore the fabric aside.

There it was.

A sigil—identical to Elira's—burned into her flesh, glowing red like fresh flame.

---

A voice spoke from the shadows.

"I wondered when you'd find this place."

Aelia spun, ready to call for help, but froze when she saw who stepped from behind the bookcases.

Thorian.

But not the version she was used to—the one who smiled easily and flirted carelessly. His eyes were sharper now, glowing faintly in the torchlight. His posture was regal, his presence... different.

"You sent the raven."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because no one else will tell you what you are," he said, walking slowly toward her. "They want to use you. As a bride. As a symbol. As a weapon."

"And you?" she whispered.

He reached her and stopped just shy of touching her. "I want you to know. To choose."

Aelia's throat tightened. "Am I like Elira?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. She's marked by accident. You were chosen."

Her breath hitched. "Chosen for what?"

Thorian looked down at the sigil still glowing on her skin. "To awaken the Veilfire. To become what no queen before you dared."

She stepped back. "Why me?"

"Because you're not of this realm. Your soul is not bound by our laws. That makes you the perfect vessel—and the greatest threat."

The torch flickered wildly. Something shifted in the air around them—like power answering a call.

"I didn't ask for any of this," she whispered.

"I know," Thorian said, his voice quiet now. "But it's in you. It always has been."

---

When Aelia finally emerged from the hidden chamber, dawn was already breaking.

The mark on her shoulder no longer burned—but it hadn't faded either. She pulled her shawl tighter, hiding it from view.

The palace stirred as servants began their morning duties. Somewhere down the corridor, she could hear the guards changing shifts.

She was about to return to her chambers when a voice stopped her.

"You've been busy."

It was Kael.

He leaned against a pillar near the entrance of the hallway, arms crossed, his golden eyes unreadable.

Aelia stiffened. "You were watching me?"

"I was protecting you."

"From who? Thorian? Or myself?"

He didn't answer.

Aelia stepped past him, but not before turning her head slightly.

"There are things in me you don't understand. Don't try to control them. You'll only get burned."

Then she walked away, leaving Kael in silence, his eyes lingering on the space where her mark had glowed.

He had seen it.

And now he knew.

---