"Some songs are born from joy. Others, from sorrow. But the truest ones… are forged in fire."
---
The wind tasted of salt and secrets as it swept through the narrow streets of the city. It tugged at the hem of my cloak, urging me forward, though I had no idea where I was going. My feet knew the path better than my mind, guiding me through alleys and past buildings I'd never seen before. My heart pounded in my chest, not from the chill of the evening air, but from the weight of the summons that had come just hours earlier.
Lyra, it had read. You are needed.
The letter had been sealed with the royal crest of Aeloria, a kingdom I had only heard of in whispers—a land lost to time, cursed to slumber. My fingers trembled as I tore the parchment open, the words etched in ink that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light. I had no reason to believe the letter, no reason to trust its promises. Yet, here I was, walking toward the gates of a grand palace, my heart a tumult of dread and hope.
I didn't belong in a place like this. The court wasn't for girls like me. I was nothing more than an orphan from the village of Norr, raised in a small, drafty home on the outskirts of the kingdom. But when the queen's letter had arrived—delivered by a messenger on a horse as swift as a storm—I couldn't refuse. I didn't understand it then, but I knew now. Somehow, the kingdom of Aeloria and I were bound together.
The palace loomed before me, towering and formidable, its marble walls gleaming under the pale light of the setting sun. Guards stood at attention, their gazes stern but not unkind. They did not speak as I passed, but their eyes followed me, and I felt the weight of their scrutiny. Every step felt wrong, like I was trespassing on something sacred.
As I approached the entrance, a tall figure stepped out of the shadows, his cloak swirling with the breeze. He was young, though his expression was grave—his jaw sharp, his eyes calculating and unreadable. I froze for a moment, feeling his gaze pierce through me, though I had never met him before.
"Lyra of Norr," he said, his voice smooth but edged with something colder. "I have been expecting you."
I blinked, unsure of how to respond. I had no idea how he knew my name, or why he spoke with such certainty, but my body tensed, instinct warning me that nothing about this was ordinary.
"I—" I started, but words failed me.
The man's gaze softened for the briefest of moments, his expression flickering with something—something almost human. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the cool detachment that had first greeted me.
"My name is Leander Thorne," he continued, his tone now a bit more patient. "Prince of Virelia, and one of the royal judges for the Spotlight Serenade."
The words hit me like a physical blow. The Spotlight Serenade. I had heard rumors—stories told in the taverns and whispered in the streets about a contest held every few years to find the one who could awaken the cursed kingdom of Aeloria. But I had never imagined I would be chosen.
I swallowed hard, finding my voice at last. "The contest… you mean to say that I—"
"You are a participant," he finished for me, his gaze unwavering. "Though you may not fully understand why yet, Lyra, you have been summoned to compete."
I blinked again, feeling the earth shift beneath me, as if the very air had begun to thrum with a strange energy. "Compete? But—what's the point of it? Why me?"
Leander studied me for a moment, the corners of his lips barely twitching in what could have been the hint of a smile. But there was no amusement in his eyes—only the heavy weight of responsibility, the same burden that seemed to hang over everything in this cursed land.
"None of us know the full truth yet," he said. "But there is a prophecy. One that speaks of the true voice. The voice that will break the curse. And those of us chosen—those who enter the Serenade—are the ones who will test it. You are not here by chance."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to ask why I—an unknown girl from the countryside—was part of something so important, something so… monumental. But as the words hung in the air between us, I knew it wouldn't matter. Whatever the reason, my fate had already been sealed.
Leander turned then, his cloak swirling around him like a dark cloud, and I instinctively followed. We walked in silence through the grand halls of the palace, my mind spinning with a thousand questions. But none of them seemed to matter as much as the one pressing at the forefront of my thoughts: What if my voice isn't the one they've been waiting for?
I had never been more terrified in my life.
The corridor we walked down grew darker, the walls adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of battles and victories long past. The palace, once filled with the light of a vibrant kingdom, now seemed more like a mausoleum, its beauty tainted by the shadow of the curse that had fallen upon Aeloria.
"Do you know what's at stake?" Leander asked suddenly, his voice low.
I nodded, though the full weight of the situation hadn't fully hit me. The prophecy. The Serenade. The kingdom's fate. The voices of the other contestants, too, all fighting for the same prize. But only one could win. And if I failed…
"You must know, Lyra," Leander continued, his tone growing serious, "this contest is more than just a competition. It is a battle for survival. The magic that governs this land is older than the kingdom itself, and it does not play fair."
I had no response. What could I say to that? I was a girl who had never known anything beyond her village, her small, quiet life. And now, I was about to enter a world where magic was real, where every note sung could determine life or death.
As we approached the grand chamber, I could hear the faint hum of music in the air, a soft, haunting melody that seemed to echo from the very walls. The doors before me loomed large, their intricate carvings depicting scenes of people singing, their voices lifting like birds into the sky.
The moment we stepped across the threshold, I felt a shiver crawl down my spine. The room was filled with contestants, all dressed in elegant gowns and regal attire, their faces a mixture of excitement and dread. And in the center, on a raised platform, stood a throne.
The throne of Aeloria.
The air felt heavier in here, the magic thick and palpable, as if it had gathered around the throne itself, waiting for something—waiting for me.
Leander led me forward, his voice barely a whisper. "You are not here by chance, Lyra. Remember that."
I nodded, my heart racing as I realized the true enormity of the prophecy—and of my role in it. The fate of a kingdom. The awakening of an ancient curse. And the one voice that could either save it or destroy it.
I had no choice but to sing.
---
The chamber was unlike any place I had ever seen—opulent and strange, a stark contrast to the humble life I had known. Its high, vaulted ceilings seemed to stretch endlessly, the walls lined with ancient tapestries that whispered stories of long-forgotten heroes and battles fought in the name of a lost kingdom. The air felt thick with history, a heavy pulse that resonated with every breath I took.
The throne at the far end of the room seemed to loom larger as I approached, its intricately carved arms rising like the wings of a giant bird ready to take flight. But it was the figure sitting upon it that captured my attention more than the throne itself.
Queen Aria.
Her beauty was ethereal, even in her current state. She sat as though frozen in time—her regal gown a cascade of delicate silver and violet, her long, dark hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and her eyes were closed, though there was no mistaking the quiet power that radiated from her. The curse had bound her, trapped her in an eternal sleep, but I could feel the weight of her presence as if she were awake, watching everything unfold.
A single step forward, and I found myself before her.
Leander paused beside me, his expression unreadable as he observed the queen from a distance. There was no movement in the room, not a sound, save for the faint whisper of the wind outside.
"She has not stirred for centuries," Leander murmured, more to himself than to me. "Not since the curse was cast."
I could barely breathe, my heart pounding in my chest as I gazed at the queen, wondering what secrets she held within her slumber. How could anyone endure such a curse? I wanted to ask, but the words caught in my throat. Queen Aria's story was one of mystery and sorrow, and no one in the kingdom truly knew the depth of her suffering.
A soft rustling of fabric beside me broke my reverie. A woman in dark robes had entered the room, her movements graceful and measured. She was older than the others, with a sharpness to her features that seemed to command attention.
"Leander," she said, her voice a melodic blend of authority and gentleness. "You've brought her."
Leander nodded, his gaze momentarily flickering toward me before returning to the queen. "This is Lyra, the one who has been chosen."
The woman, who I now recognized as one of the royal attendants, examined me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "I see…" She didn't say more, but I could sense the weight of her scrutiny.
The tension in the room was palpable. I could feel the eyes of the others on me, though I couldn't see them. Each contestant, each royal, each attendant—their gazes were as sharp as arrows, probing me for weaknesses I wasn't sure I had.
"You must understand," the attendant continued, her voice lower now, as if speaking to someone in confidence, "the Spotlight Serenade is more than just a contest. It is the only way to break the curse that has bound Aeloria for centuries. The prophecy speaks of one who will awaken the kingdom—a voice of purity, a song that can reach the heart of the curse itself."
My throat tightened. The weight of her words hung in the air like an unspoken challenge. I had read about the prophecy, heard tales of the one true voice that could end the eternal slumber of Aeloria, but hearing it spoken aloud made it real, made it unavoidable. And it was me who had been chosen to sing that voice.
Leander stepped forward, his posture stiff, his gaze locked on the queen. "The time has come, then. The contestants will begin their trials tomorrow."
Tomorrow. The thought made me shiver. How could I be ready for this? What if my voice wasn't enough? What if I couldn't fulfill the prophecy?
"You may observe," the attendant said, turning toward the platform where the contestants were gathering. "But you will not sing today. Not yet."
I felt a flicker of relief, but it was fleeting. The reality of what was to come loomed over me like a storm on the horizon, growing darker by the minute.
"I will take you to the others," Leander said softly, his tone different now—less commanding, almost… reassuring? "You should meet the other contestants."
I nodded, my legs unsteady beneath me as I followed him out of the chamber. We passed through corridors bathed in the warm glow of enchanted lanterns, their light flickering like fireflies in the air. My mind was racing with a thousand questions, but every time I opened my mouth, the words seemed to disappear.
Eventually, we arrived at a smaller room—still grand but not as intimidating as the throne room. Inside, several young women were gathered, each one dressed in beautiful, intricate gowns that shimmered in the candlelight. They all stood in small groups, conversing in hushed tones, their eyes occasionally flicking toward me as I entered.
The room fell silent the moment I crossed the threshold.
Leander stepped aside, allowing me to enter fully. His presence lingered like a shadow at the door.
"I'd like you all to meet Lyra," he said, his voice carrying a weight I hadn't anticipated. "She is the newest contestant in the Spotlight Serenade."
There was a brief, tense silence. Then, the women began to murmur, some with curiosity, others with a touch of disdain. I couldn't help but feel the weight of their gazes upon me.
One girl, with dark, raven-like hair and sharp features, stepped forward. Her eyes, cold as ice, scanned me from head to toe. "So, you're the one chosen by fate?" she said, her voice dripping with skepticism. "I hope your voice lives up to the prophecy, little orphan."
Her words stung, though I didn't show it. I was used to the whispers of others, the judgment that came with my unknown past. But something about her tone—the way she sized me up like a prize to be won—set my nerves on edge.
"I'm Seraphina," the girl continued, her smile just barely hiding the venom beneath. "And I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other. Whether you like it or not."
I swallowed hard but said nothing. Leander's eyes flashed with something—warning, maybe—but he didn't intervene. Instead, he simply nodded toward the others.
"As you can see, the competition will be fierce," he said, his voice carrying that same quiet authority I had heard earlier. "But for now, I suggest you all rest. Tomorrow, the trials begin in earnest."
The room remained silent as Leander turned and exited, leaving me with the contestants. I could feel the weight of their gazes on me, but I didn't dare meet their eyes. Instead, I focused on my breathing, trying to calm the storm of thoughts racing through my mind.
The trials. The prophecy. The queen.
And Seraphina.
I had no choice but to face them all. And I would—no matter the cost.
The fate of Aeloria depended on it.