Elara's POV
The champagne glass slipped from my hand.
I didn't hear it shatter on the marble floor. I didn't hear the music from the ballroom downstairs or the laughter of two hundred guests celebrating my engagement. I didn't hear anything except the sound coming from behind my father's study door.
A woman's giggle. A man's low groan. The unmistakable creak of Father's leather couch.
My hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob. Don't open it, a voice in my head whispered. Walk away. Pretend you heard nothing.
But my feet wouldn't move backward. Only forward.
I pushed the door open.
The scene burned itself into my brain like a brand. Theron—my fiancé, the man I was supposed to marry in three weeks—tangled with someone on the couch. Her red dress pooled on the floor. His shirt unbuttoned. Their lips locked together like they were drowning and each other was air.
Then she turned her head.
Cassia. My stepsister.
Her eyes met mine, and instead of shock or shame, I saw something worse: satisfaction.
"Elara!" She didn't even sound surprised. She sounded... pleased. "You're supposed to be downstairs greeting guests."
Theron pulled away from her slowly, like he had all the time in the world. He buttoned his shirt with steady hands while I stood frozen in the doorway, my heart cracking into a thousand pieces.
"Well," he said, smoothing his hair. "I suppose we should tell her now, Cassia. Save the drama for later."
"Tell me what?" My voice came out small and broken. I hated how weak I sounded.
Theron walked toward me, and I instinctively stepped back. He smiled—not the warm smile he'd given me when he proposed six months ago, but something cold and sharp.
"That this engagement was always business, Elara. Your father has connections I need. Money I need. But you?" He laughed, and the sound felt like knives. "You were never the one I wanted."
The floor tilted under my feet. "You... you said you loved me."
"I said what I needed to say." He shrugged like we were discussing the weather. "Look at yourself, Elara. You're a healer in an empire that worships warriors. Your magic is so weak you can barely light a candle. You walk around helping slum rats for free while your family builds an empire. You're an embarrassment."
Each word hit like a physical blow.
Cassia slid off the couch and adjusted her dress. She walked to Theron's side and linked her arm through his. "Oh, don't be so harsh, darling. Elara has her uses. She made you look respectable. The hero captain marrying the sweet little healer—people loved that story." She turned to me with mock sympathy. "But now that Father's given Theron everything he needs, well... why keep pretending?"
"Father knows about this?" The betrayal cut deeper.
"Father arranged it, you stupid girl." Cassia's voice dripped with venom. "Did you really think anyone would choose you over me? I have real power. Real beauty. Real worth." She stepped closer, and I saw the hatred that had always lurked behind her fake smiles. "You've been the family disappointment since the day you were born. Mother died giving birth to you, and you couldn't even inherit her strong magic. Just that pathetic healing gift that nobody respects."
Tears burned my eyes, but I wouldn't let them fall. Not in front of them.
"I trusted you," I whispered, looking at Theron. "I thought—"
"You thought wrong." He cut me off. "Honestly, Elara, this is your own fault. You were always too kind, too naive, too weak. In this empire, people like you don't survive. You're just too stupid to realize it."
Something inside me broke then. Not my heart—that was already shattered. Something deeper. The part of me that believed being good mattered. That kindness was strength. That love was real.
I turned to leave, my vision blurring with tears I refused to shed in front of them.
"Oh, Elara, wait!" Cassia's voice rang out, saccharine sweet. "Before you go..."
I should have kept walking.
But I turned around.
Cassia's face twisted into something ugly and triumphant. Then she screamed.
She screamed so loud the whole house could hear it. She grabbed her own dress and ripped it. She knocked over a lamp. She scratched her own arm until it bled.
"HELP!" she shrieked. "SOMEONE HELP ME! ELARA ATTACKED ME!"
"What—no! I didn't—" Panic seized my chest.
The study door burst open. Guards rushed in. Father appeared behind them, his face red with fury. Behind him, wedding guests crowded into the hallway, craning their necks to see the drama.
"She's insane!" Cassia sobbed, running to Father. "I caught her stealing Mother's jewels from the vault. When I confronted her, she attacked me! She tried to hurt me because she's jealous that Theron chose me instead!"
"LIAR!" I shouted. "Father, she's lying! I would never—"
But Father wasn't looking at me with concern or confusion. He was looking at me with cold calculation.
"Search her room," he ordered the guards. "Now."
Two guards grabbed my arms. I struggled, but they were too strong. They dragged me down the hallway while guests whispered and pointed. Up the stairs to my bedroom. They tore through my things like animals.
One guard opened my jewelry box. His face went pale. "Sir... I found them."
He held up a velvet bag. Inside were Mother's sapphire earrings. Her diamond bracelet. Her ruby necklace. Jewels I'd never seen before in my life.
"I didn't take those!" I screamed. "Cassia planted them! Father, please, you have to believe me!"
Father looked at me like I was a stranger. No—worse. Like I was garbage.
"You've always been worthless," he said quietly. "A weak magician. An embarrassment to the Veylin name. I kept you around out of obligation to your dead mother, but this?" He gestured at the jewels. "This is the final insult."
"Father—"
"You are no daughter of mine." His voice carried down the hallway, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I, Aldous Veylin, publicly disown Elara Veylin. She is no longer part of this family. No longer entitled to our name, our protection, or our mercy."
The guests gasped. Some looked shocked. Others looked excited—they'd have gossip for weeks.
Theron appeared beside Father, looking serious and noble. "As Captain of the Dragon Corps, I must uphold the law. Elara Veylin, you are charged with theft and assault on my betrothed. The sentence for such crimes is clear."
No. No, this couldn't be happening.
"The Emberlands Prison," Theron continued, and ice flooded my veins. "Keeper duty for the monster in chains. May the gods have mercy on your worthless soul."
Emberlands Prison. Where keepers were sent to tend the empire's darkest secret. Where no keeper had survived more than a week in five years.
It was a death sentence.
"Please," I begged, not caring anymore who heard. "Please, I didn't do this. I'm innocent!"
But nobody listened. The guards dragged me away while Cassia cried fake tears into Father's shoulder. While Theron watched with cold satisfaction. While two hundred guests whispered about the fallen healer who'd lost everything.
As they threw me into a prison carriage, I caught one last glimpse of my home. Of the ballroom where I was supposed to celebrate my engagement. Of the life I'd never have again.
The door slammed shut, trapping me in darkness.
And in that darkness, something inside me changed.
I'd spent my whole life being kind. Being gentle. Being good.
And where had it gotten me?
Betrayed. Framed. Sentenced to death.
As the carriage rolled toward Emberlands Prison and whatever monster waited there, only one thought burned in my mind:
If they want a monster... maybe it's time I become one.
Three days later...
The prison guards threw me through iron doors into suffocating heat. Volcanic rock surrounded me. The air tasted like sulfur and rage.
"Good luck, healer," one guard laughed. "The dragon hasn't let a keeper live in five years. Try to die quietly."
The door clanged shut behind me.
I was alone in the darkness with something that was breathing. Something massive. Something that growled like thunder and made the ground shake.
Two golden eyes opened in the shadows, burning like hellfire.
And a voice—ancient and terrible and laced with three hundred years of hatred—rolled over me like a wave:
"Another lamb for slaughter. How delightful."