The sixteen-year-old Princess Isabel sat quietly on her bed, her small hands clasped together, eyes distant. The question had been echoing in her heart for days.
"Is Xavier truly a demon... as the rumors say?"
Since the night of the fire, the palace had settled into a tense calm — the kind that hides unease beneath silence. Whispers drifted through the courtyards like cold wind: whispers of Xavier, of the flames that had nearly consumed the east wing, of something unnatural lurking in the shadows. Servants spoke in hushed tones, their eyes darting toward Isabel's chambers before quickly looking away.
The main palace had grown unusually busy. Courtiers and messengers came and went, their faces tight with concern. Whatever they discussed behind the gilded doors, Isabel knew it had something to do with that night — the night that changed everything. Her father, the king, had been more distant than ever. He was always surrounded by guards and advisors, his expression carved from stone.
She sighed softly.
Her gaze wandered to the window. There, perched upon the ledge in his usual spot, was Xavier — his serpentine form curled gracefully, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. Those eyes were always fixed on her, unblinking, deep as an endless night. When their gazes met, Isabel froze. For a fleeting moment, the world around her disappeared.
Her heart fluttered.
That night… could it be that…?
"Princess?" a gentle voice broke her thoughts.
She turned sharply. Maya, her loyal maid, stood at the door, her face pale with uncertainty.
Isabel rose to her feet, brushing her dress as she walked toward her.
"What is it, Maya?" she asked softly.
"The King… he summons you to the main palace," Maya said, her tone cautious, as if afraid of the words themselves.
For a heartbeat, Isabel could only stare at her.
"The King? My father… wants to see me?" Her voice trembled with disbelief.
It had been nine years — nine long years since she had last stepped foot inside the main palace. nine years since she had stood before her father, whose presence once felt like sunlight, now only a memory she watched from afar when he returned from war.
"Are you sure?" she whispered, her eyes wide.
"Yes, Your Highness," Maya replied with a respectful nod.
Before Maya could say more, Isabel bolted out of the room, her heart racing.
"Princess! Wait—please, slow down!" Maya called after her, but Isabel barely heard.
The corridors blurred around her as she ran. Excitement, fear, and longing tangled inside her chest until she could hardly breathe.
When she reached the grand doors of the main palace, she finally stopped. The excitement faded, replaced by a strange heaviness. Slowly, she smoothed her gown and adjusted her hair, trying to compose herself.
As she stepped inside the great hall, the vastness of it swallowed her. Sunlight streamed through tall stained-glass windows, painting the marble floors in hues of red and gold. But there was no warmth in the air — only a silence that pressed against her chest.
Her steps echoed as she looked around. The faces that turned toward her were unfamiliar, unreadable. And just like that, the light in her eyes dimmed. The excitement that had carried her there dissolved into a quiet dread.
Something in the air told her… this was not a reunion.