Laurelin had given birth to the heir, a child said to bear the marks of destiny itself;his hair black as the king's, an extension of his shadow and power,and his eyes a vivid, burning red, a clear inheritance from his mother.Whispers spread among the people that the throne had finally breathed,that the blood had mingled as history had intended.
A year later, Laurelin gave birth again.A daughter… beautiful,a small replica of her mother, as if Laurelin had gazed into the mirror of time and birthed her own reflection.But life was too brief to be told;no more than two months, and then Laurelin's breath left the world quietly and cruelly.
No one sought the truth.No one questioned fate, or illness, or the frailty of the body.All fingers turned toward Eldeth.They accused her in whispers, then in shouts,branding her with a title harsher than death itself:"Eater of the Empress."
The imperial twins reached their eighth year.Eight years were enough for destiny to decide who would be brought into the light, and who would be cast deep into shadow.
Within gilded walls, heavy with gold and silk, grew the crown prince, Stodar Laith,the sole son in the king's heart,the name spoken with reverence both within the palace and beyond.Not only the love of his father surrounded him,but the entire empire bowed to his innocence:nobles saw in him the continuation of the throne,and the people saw a promise of a less cruel future.He was revered, exalted, bathed in light as though he had been born for it alone.
On the other side…there was Eldeth.His twin in blood, a stranger in life.Her small body was covered in bruises that no one asked about,marks of harsh hands and words too heavy to heal.She worked in silence among the shadows of the servants,each movement like a slow dance on the strings of misery,afraid to make a sound that would remind the palace of her existence.She asked for no more than a single morsel,or a gaze that held no contempt.
Despite the royal blood flowing in her veins,she was severed from the roots of power.Her father looked at her with eyes void of mercy,seeing in her an empty shell,a mistake uncorrected, a memory he wished away.She was denied the light showered on Laith,left imprisoned in shadow,where hopes screamed silently,and where the hidden beginnings of an unwritten world were woven.
Then came Laith's eighth birthday.The emperor held a celebration the likes of which Stodar had never seen,a night overflowing with music, laughter, and wine.Palaces sparkled, and even the sky seemed to share in the joy.
But behind the splendor, rage simmered.In his drunkenness,the emperor met the small Eldeth.Time stopped.In her features, he saw Laurelin,he saw loss, guilt, and all he had tried to bury deep within.
He exploded.Smashing a wine bottle over her head,the glass shattered like dead stars,and he screamed in venomous fury:"You are not my daughter!"
Then…he picked up a large shard,driving it into her small body without hesitation,turning to leave as if he had not left behind a bleeding child,but a memory he wished erased.
Eldeth dragged herself a few steps,afraid,gasping for air,her chest heavier with pain than with breath.She did not scream.She did not cry.She was alone… as always.
At the end of the path,she fell.And with her,the spring of her eighth year ended,a child who was never granted the chance to be a princess,not even a child.
No one heard her fall.Palaces do not listen to those who die in the shadows.
Yes… Eldeth was dead.