In the mist-veiled kingdom of Avalon, 17-year-old Princess Iris of House Elowen waits behind gilded bars-her life planned, her future promised, her freedom locked away until her 18th birthday. Destined to marry Prince Draco of Calypso, a proud and f...
Long before the kingdoms were named, before the bloodlines were drawn, the land of Avalon thrived on magic.
It whispered through the roots of the trees, drifted on the morning fog, and pulsed beneath the earth like a heartbeat. The Elowens, Avalon's ruling bloodline, were said to be chosen by the gods themselves-blessed with beauty, long life, and the Sight. It was Queen Seraphina Elowen, Iris's grandmother, who once walked into the forest during the Blood Moon and emerged three days later with visions that would guide the realm into peace for half a century.
But magic is a fickle inheritance. It chooses one and abandons the next. And peace, like all things, must eventually shatter.
Seventeen years ago, on the day Princess Iris was born, Avalon was struck by the worst storm in recorded memory. Lightning cracked the sky open, fire swallowed the western hills, and wild beasts crept from the woods as if summoned. The midwife who delivered her ran screaming into the dark, claiming the child had no shadow. Others swore her birthmark-shaped like a flame curling beneath her collarbone-was the mark of a witch reborn.
That very night, a neighboring kingdom rose against Avalon, claiming sorcery, threatening war. And while the priests argued over prophecies and omens, the Queen, desperate to protect her only daughter, invoked the ancient rite of Sanctum Solis-The Locking of the Light.
The princess would be kept away from the world, untouched, unseen, and unspoken of, until her eighteenth name day-the final day of the curse's predicted cycle. By then, it was said, the danger would pass, her powers would either bloom or wither, and she could be claimed safely-by marriage or by fate.
So they sealed her away in the East Tower, beneath tapestries of old queens and saints, in a room lined with silver runes and prayer stones. She was raised in comfort, but always with distance. She had tutors, but no friends. Nurses, but no mother to hold her through the night.
To the people of Avalon, Princess Iris became a myth. A ghost of silk and sunlight trapped in the rafters of the castle. Some say she doesn't exist at all. Others say she is the last daughter of magic, and the reason the kingdom still holds peace.
But behind the carved doors of her chamber, Iris Elowen exists. She breathes. She dreams. And she waits.
Not for freedom. Not for love. But for the moment the world finally dares to open her door.
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