The sun was setting over the Kingdom of Varela, casting a warm golden hue over the sprawling gardens of the royal palace. Amina stood by the palace's ornate balcony, staring out at the horizon, her thoughts as distant as the fading light. The winds whispered through the tall trees below, carrying with them the scent of lavender, but no breeze could stir the heaviness in her heart.
Her life, once so simple and carefree, had been forever altered the moment her father had announced her betrothal to Prince Aric of the neighboring kingdom of Dallen. Two kingdoms—once enemies—now bound together by blood and duty. And yet, Amina couldn't help but feel that she was nothing more than a pawn in a game she had no part in choosing.
She turned away from the view, her long, dark hair swaying with her movement. The chamber was quiet except for the soft rustling of the rich velvet curtains and the distant sounds of the palace. Her fingers brushed against the delicate fabric of her gown, a brilliant shade of crimson that matched the fading light outside. It was the same color as the flames that danced in her dreams.
She could still remember the first time the fire had come to her. It had been a dream at first, a flickering shadow in her sleep. But then, it began to feel real. The warmth. The crackle. The power. She had woken in a cold sweat, her heart racing, only to find no trace of the flames in the waking world.
At least, not until today.
A soft knock on the door startled her from her thoughts.
"Enter," Amina called, her voice steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling within her.
The door creaked open, and a young servant girl stepped inside, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and fear. "My lady, the prince has arrived."
Amina's heart skipped a beat. She had met Prince Aric only once, years ago, when they were children. They had been playful then, their laughter echoing in the royal halls. But that had been before the war, before the bloodshed, before the fateful engagement that would unite their kingdoms.
"I will be there shortly," Amina replied, her voice softer this time, though still edged with uncertainty.
The servant bowed and retreated, closing the door behind her. Amina turned back to the balcony, her reflection staring back at her in the glass. She hardly recognized the woman she had become. Once, she had dreamed of a life filled with adventure, magic, and love. Now, her destiny was bound by the expectations of her family, her people, and a prince she hardly knew.
But this is for the greater good, she reminded herself. For peace. For the future.
Amina took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She had to meet Aric, to play her role in this union, whether her heart was ready or not.
As she made her way down the grand staircase, her footsteps echoing through the vast corridors, she felt a strange fluttering in her chest. A whisper of something powerful—something ancient—stirred within her. The flame. It pulsed beneath her skin, as though it recognized the moment she was walking toward.
The grand hall of the palace was bathed in candlelight, its marble floors gleaming in the soft glow. Prince Aric stood near the center, surrounded by noblemen and women. His dark hair, neatly groomed, contrasted against the white tunic he wore, which was embroidered with silver threads. His blue eyes, as cold and distant as the sky, locked onto hers as she entered. Amina's breath caught in her throat as their gazes met.
It had been years since she last saw him, yet the prince seemed unchanged, his commanding presence just as it had been when they were children. He was the epitome of royal composure, a man who was destined for greatness. But behind his stoic mask, Amina sensed something more—something vulnerable.
He bowed as she approached, his voice smooth and polite. "Lady Amina, it is an honor to see you again."
Amina curtsied, her movements practiced but not without hesitation. "The honor is mine, Prince Aric."
The silence between them was thick with unspoken words, the weight of their betrothal hanging heavy in the air. Around them, the courtiers whispered and exchanged glances, their curious eyes watching the unfolding scene with interest.
Amina was about to speak when, without warning, the flame inside her stirred violently, as though it had been awakened by the presence of the prince. Her heart raced, and she felt a heat radiating from her hands. Panic rose in her chest.
"Are you well, my lady?" Aric's voice broke through her fog of panic, his concern evident.
Amina swallowed hard, trying to push the sensation down. "Yes, of course. I'm fine."
But she knew the truth. She wasn't fine. The flame was no longer a distant dream—it was real, and it was growing stronger by the day.
Aric studied her carefully, his brow furrowing slightly as he sensed her unease. Yet he said nothing more, allowing the silence to stretch between them.
At that moment, a figure approached from the shadows—an older woman, with eyes that glinted like cold steel. It was Amina's mother, and she wore a knowing smile. "Amina, Prince Aric, I believe it is time to seal the engagement. Let us begin the ceremony."
The crowd moved in, and the moment of peace was gone. Amina's hand trembled slightly as she placed it into Aric's. The flame within her stirred once again, this time with a different intensity. It wasn't just a symbol of power. It was a warning.
The flames of fate were awakening.