The Girl Who Was Never Meant to Stay...
"You will attend the VIP taking place in Spain and I believe you will represent me well". Her mother had said.
"Yes ma'am" Amelia replied. A conversation which kept replaying on her mind making her lose focus on what was important and what was not.
"You'll attend the gala as a guest of the Delgado family. You'll smile, be polite, and blend in. No questions, no wandering.". Her mother had said later that night at dinner- her interest in the food long gone after their conversation about her being a bastard.
And just like that, Amelia was on a plane across the world, with nothing but silk and secrets wrapped around her.
---
Spain was warm and golden, the air filled with music and voices she didn't recognize.
The gala was being held at a mansion that looked like something out of a fairytale—grand arches, glowing lanterns, vines twisting along the balconies. But Amelia didn't feel like a princess.
She felt like a shadow.
The ballroom was already alive when she arrived. Laughter. Champagne. A string quartet playing something classical and forgettable. Amelia slipped in through the side entrance, just like she was told.
No one noticed her.
And yet, somehow, she noticed him.
He was standing across the room—broad-shouldered, statuesque, dark curls brushing the collar of a navy suit. There was something unspoken in the way he held himself, like power coiled beneath stillness. Like the air listened when he breathed.
She froze.
Her chest tightened in a way that felt unfamiliar. Like a memory she didn't know she had was surfacing.
And for a moment… he looked her way.
Just a flicker.
His eyes met hers—and the world stopped.
Her breath caught.
But before she could take a step forward—
"Amelia," someone whispered behind her.
She turned.
No one was there.
When she looked back—he was gone- no, everyone was gone. Something hit the back of her head and everything was pitch black.
---
Pain.
That's the first thing she felt. A dull ache in her neck, like needles under her skin. Her head throbbed with a strange heaviness, and the air smelled… wrong.
Damp. Metallic. Old.
She opened her eyes slowly. The room was dark—stone walls, high ceiling, torches flickering against the damp. Chains dangled from the corners, but she wasn't tied down.
Not yet.
"Where am I…?" She whispered, her voice hoarse.
"Quiet."
The voice snapped through the darkness—sharp, cold, and unfamiliar.
Amelia turned her head, and that's when she saw them.
Five of them. Men. Cloaked in black and red, pale skin glowing under the torchlight.
Their eyes—some silver, some gold, one with a faint, unnatural violet—followed her every move.
But then another stepped forward, a beautiful lady moved forward and something about her made Amelia's stomach twist.
Her hair floated slightly, though there was no wind. Her skin was dark like stone, her eyes glowing faint blue. She whispered a word, and the air buzzed with electricity.
Her beauty was beyond this world, enchanting and bewitching.
"Ti're fael ithra."
"Dol vren'tha mala."
"Ana kriem selor!"
The words cut the air like blades. A language she couldn't begin to understand.
It wasn't Latin. It was older. Colder.
One of the men circled her slowly. He tilted his head, inhaling deeply.
"She doesn't know," he murmured, lips curling into something between a sneer and a smile. "No idea what she is."
"She doesn't need to know," said the lady. "The Moonblood flows in her veins. That is enough."
Moonblood?.
What the hell is a Moonblood?.
"Who are you? What do you want from me?" She asked, her voice shaky but steady enough.
"You were supposed to remain hidden," the lady replied, stepping closer. "But fate has a funny way of ruining plans. You stood too close to him. He saw you."
He?.
Who is he?.
The handsome guy at the party?.
Most importantly, who the hell are these people?.
"This wasn't meant to happen yet," another muttered, arms crossed. "She's too early.
She's still…" He waved a hand like the word disgusted him. "Human."
"Not for long," the violet-eyed guy said.
"We'll wake it. The bloodline. The curse.
She'll either break the prophecy—or fulfill it."
Amelia mind was spinning. Prophecies? Bloodlines?
What do they want from her?.
Is this some sort of joke or what?.
The beautiful lady approached her now, lifting a hand. Her palm glowed with a strange black mist.
Amelia stepped back instinctively.
"Let's begin," she said softly. "Before he finds her."
The last thing she heard was the chant.
The strange ancient words growing louder, faster, darker. The torches flared. The shadows rose.
And Amelia screamed.