Anya awoke with a start, her heart pounding like a war drum. A chill ran down her spine as the night's events replayed in her mind. The Raven Prince, a figure both terrifying and enchanting, had materialized in her very chamber. A dream, surely. The tales the maids whispered were far from this: a disfigured creature, a relic of dark magic, a grotesque parody of a man. But the figure in her dream, though shrouded in an eerie aura, possessed a certain... allure. She shook her head, dismissing the vision as a fevered figment, a product of mounting stress and impending doom.
The looming reality of her betrothal to the Shadow Kingdom's ruler cast a long, dark shadow over her. In a mere week, she would relinquish her familiar world, exchanging it for a life cloaked in uncertainty and peril. As she rose, a wave of dread washed over her, the weight of her sacrifice for family and kingdom pressing down upon her.
The ensuing days were a whirlwind of preparations. Gowns were fitted, jewels selected, and countless arrangements made. Yet, Anya's mind remained adrift, drawn to the enigmatic figure who had haunted her dreams.
One afternoon, while overseeing the wedding feast preparations, she sought solace in the garden. The tranquility offered a brief respite from the castle's frenetic energy. As she closed her eyes as the warmth of the sun beamed down on her skin, a familiar voice shattered the silence.
"You seem troubled, my dear."
King Antony, his once imposing figure now etched with age and worry, approached. His once vibrant hair had thinned, and dark circles shadowed his eyes.
She forced a smile, her heart heavy with the weight of his sorrow. He had lost his queen, and now, he was about to lose his only daughter.
"I know, Father," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But it is my duty."
He pulled her into a comforting embrace, his warmth a stark contrast to the cold dread that consumed her. "If there were another way, believe me, I would find it," he murmured.
She inhaled his scent, a familiar blend of lavender and rosemary, grounding herself in the present. Yet, the future loomed, a dark and uncertain path.
"I understand, Father," she said, her voice firm. "I will fulfill my duty with dignity."
He nodded, his gaze distant. "You remind me of your mother, with that stubborn determination."
Anya's heart ached at the mention of her mother. She had longed for a love as enduring as her parents'. But now, as she stood on the precipice of her own destiny, she feared a different fate. When Queen Angie's health began to decline, she and her father were with her mother every step of the way. Her older brother however was a different story, when the Queen's health began to decline he'd mysteriously departed and kept his distance.
As they walked back to the castle, Anya couldn't resist asking about her brother, "Will Aaron return?"
The king paused, his expression unreadable. "Do not worry about such things, Anya. You have enough on your plate."
Disappointment washed over her. Her brother leaving to tend to his own affairs around the time of their mother's illness had cast a dark cloud over their family, and when Queen Angie passed and Aaron still didn't return even for the funeral the dark clouds turned into a storm.
As she prepared for her impending doom, Anya clung to hope, a flicker of light in the darkness. Perhaps, amidst the shadows of the Shadow Kingdom, she would find a way to forge her own destiny.