The salt-laden wind whispered through the dense trees as Serenya gazed out over the tranquil waves. The sun was beginning its descent, casting a golden hue across the horizon. The small coastal village of Dalsmere had always been her sanctuary—its simplicity, its quiet pace, had made her feel as though the world beyond the sea did not exist. She often thought that if she looked hard enough, she could see the edge of the world, where the ocean met the sky, and she could dream of a life that was free from complications, from danger. But those dreams felt like distant whispers now, fading with every breath.
Her life was about to change forever.
Serenya had been walking along the cliffside path when she saw the figures on horseback, their dark cloaks billowing in the wind. She had learned to read the signs of travelers long ago—horses with polished coats and riders who moved with purpose were not the usual sight on this isolated stretch of land.
She paused, heart racing. Something in the air shifted.
As they drew closer, she saw the golden insignia on their chest—the mark of the Solmar royal family. Her breath caught in her throat. She had heard the legends, the tales of the Solmar dynasty—how they had once ruled Aeloria with unmatched power, until they were betrayed, their bloodline thought to have been wiped out in the great war. Yet here they were, come to her.
The leader of the group, a tall man with piercing eyes and silver hair that shimmered in the dying light, dismounted with fluid grace. His presence was commanding, yet his gaze lingered on Serenya with a strange mix of caution and curiosity.
"You are Serenya of Dalsmere," he said, his voice low and rich, carrying a weight that seemed too heavy for such a simple village.
Serenya swallowed hard. "I am." Her voice faltered as she instinctively took a step back. She didn't know why, but something about the way he looked at her unsettled her. There was an intensity in his gaze, as though he could see through her, could see the part of her that had always been buried deep inside.
"I am Lord Corvin of the Solmar House," the man continued, his eyes never leaving hers. "We have come for you, Serenya. You are needed in the capital. It is time for you to fulfill your destiny."
Her heart skipped a beat. "My destiny?" She shook her head, her thoughts racing. "I'm just a simple girl. I don't know what you're talking about."
Lord Corvin's expression softened slightly, though it did not lose its edge of seriousness. "You are no ordinary girl. You are the last living heir of House Solmar. The throne of Aeloria awaits you."
Serenya took a step back, her mind reeling. Her father had always told her stories of the Solmar family—their rise to power, their fall from grace, and the tragic end of their dynasty. But she had never thought those tales would be her reality. She had no connection to royal bloodlines, no interest in thrones or politics. She was content here, in her village, with the ocean, the cliffs, and the simplicity of her life.
"You must come with us, Serenya," Lord Corvin said, his voice firm but not unkind. "The kingdom needs you. There is no time to waste."
The words sank deep into her chest, making her feel heavy. "But I have no place in the capital. I don't even—"
"Your place is wherever your bloodline calls you," he interrupted, his voice unwavering. "You are the last Solmar. The crown of Aeloria was meant for you."
Before Serenya could speak, the wind picked up, howling fiercely as if in warning. The sea crashed against the cliffs below, a sound like thunder. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe, to think.
But nothing made sense. How could she possibly be the heir to a throne? She had no skills in ruling, no knowledge of court politics. She was just Serenya, a girl who grew up fishing, swimming, and tending to the small fields behind her cottage. Her destiny was here, in Dalsmere, with the people who had raised her.
"Come with us," Lord Corvin repeated, his tone no longer a question but a command. "You are needed. The kingdom is on the brink of war. And you are the only one who can save it."
Her legs felt weak, her body trembling as if it knew something she didn't. The life she had always known—safe, simple—was slipping through her fingers. And with it, her childhood. The stories her father had told her were no longer just stories. They were reality, and that reality was now her responsibility.
The sea stretched out before her, endless and unknown, much like the path ahead.
Serenya took a deep breath. She turned toward the group, feeling the weight of their gaze upon her. Her heart was heavy with doubt, but she knew there was no turning back.
"I'll go with you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Lord Corvin's gaze softened ever so slightly, though it held a hint of something else—something ancient, something she could not name.
"Then come," he said, his voice like a quiet promise. "The throne of Aeloria awaits."
And with that, Serenya turned her back on the village that had been her entire world, stepping into the unknown.