I never asked for this life. But then again, no one ever does when they're born into a legacy carved in blood and stardust.
My name is Aurelia Seraphine Langford, though most just call me Aria—a nickname I've never really liked. My grandmother gave it to me, whispered it like a secret only she understood. She said it was the name the stars called me by in her visions. That sounds poetic, doesn't it? Like something out of an old prophecy etched into stone tablets buried beneath forgotten ruins.
But poetry doesn't make mornings easier.
It was already 8:00 PM when I stepped into the corridor, my heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. The hallway stretched endlessly before me, lined with portraits of ancestors whose eyes seemed to follow me even now. They were warriors, rulers, saviors—and ghosts who still haunted my every step.
The Langford Dynasty.
We won the Dark War. Not just survived it. We led humanity to victory against the Voidborn invaders who nearly tore our world apart. Our family wielded the Starbound Seal, an artifact so powerful it could rewrite fate itself. And now, centuries later, the weight of that power rests on my shoulders like a crown forged from iron and regret.
I passed by the portrait of Queen Elowen, my grandmother. Her gaze was piercing, regal, and full of knowing. She always looked at me like she saw not just who I was—but who I would become.
And I hated that.
I quickened my pace, brushing a loose strand of golden hair behind my ear. My dress today was simple compared to others—a soft ivory gown with silver embroidery along the bodice. My blue eyes caught the light as I turned a corner, reflecting the pale glow of the chandeliers above. My lips, naturally reddish and often mistaken for being painted, pressed into a thin line.
I wasn't angry.
I was tired.
By the time I reached the ballroom, the guests had already begun arriving. The grand hall shimmered with candlelight and crystal chandeliers, the scent of roses and lavender drifting through the air. Servants moved like shadows between guests dressed in their finest silks and jewels. The orchestra played a soft waltz, but no one danced yet.
They were waiting for me.
I took a breath, smoothed my dress, and stepped onto the stage.
All eyes turned to me.
There was a quiet hush, then polite applause. I smiled—not too wide, not too reserved. Just enough to show grace without arrogance. I raised my hand slightly in greeting, then began my speech.
"Good evening," I said, voice steady despite the storm inside me. "On behalf of the Langford Royal House, I welcome each and every one of you to this celebration of unity and remembrance…"
I spoke about tradition, about peace, about the sacrifices made during the war. About how far we've come. I sounded exactly like the princess everyone expected. Poised. Elegant. Untouchable.
No one knew I wanted to scream.
When I finished, the crowd clapped politely, some bowing, others nodding respectfully. Then the music swelled again, and the room broke into movement—dancers twirling, glasses clinking, laughter rising like smoke into the vaulted ceiling.
I stepped down from the stage and slipped away before anyone could stop me.
The halls were quieter now, blessedly empty. I passed another painting—this one of King Darkkhon, my great-grandfather, known as the "Supreme Royal lord". His reign brought order, but his rule was ruthless. Mercy was rare under his command.
Then there was my father, King Damien Langford, the "Austere Royal King", known for his unshakable authority and unwavering discipline. And my mother, Queen Daria Lux, once called the "Innocent Water Lily of Spain"—beautiful, serene, untainted by politics until she married into the Langford line.
And me?
I'm just... Aria.
Notorious for nothing. Famous for being royal. Expected to be perfect, yet unsure of who I am beneath the title.
I found myself stepping outside onto the farthest balcony, the one tucked away from the main ballroom windows. The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of jasmine and distant rain. I leaned against the railing, letting the cool breeze brush across my face.
Above me, the sky stretched endlessly, scattered with stars that twinkled like secrets trying to reach me.
I sighed.
Freedom felt like a myth.
I was set to attend one of the most prestigious universities in Europe next year. It was everything I should want—prestigious classes, elite connections, a future paved with opportunity. But what did any of that matter if I'd still be watched? Still expected to be the same poised, obedient heir?
Would I ever get to live a normal life?
I closed my eyes for a moment, just breathing. Just existing.
That's when I heard it.
A low caw.
I opened my eyes.
Perched on the edge of the balcony railing was a black crow, its feathers gleaming like oil in the moonlight. In its beak, it held a single dark rose—its petals black as ink, edges tinged with crimson.
Odd.
Even odder was the small golden thread tied around its leg, holding a folded letter wrapped in purple glitter. I blinked.
What the hell?
The bird tilted its head at me, almost expectant.
I hesitated, then reached out slowly. It didn't fly away. Instead, it flapped its wings once. Twice. Then, after a beat, it extended its leg toward me.
I carefully untied the letter, fingers trembling slightly. The envelope was unlike anything I'd seen—delicate, shimmering faintly like starlight trapped in paper. On the seal was an emblem that sent a chill down my spine.
A hooded figure.
One hand held a scythe.
The other, a rose.
Creepy.
Still, curiosity burned brighter than caution.
I unfolded the letter.
Congratulations. You are #11 selected as a student of Blackthorn University in this timeline.
Timeline?
I frowned. What did that mean?
I kept reading.
Your enrollment has been confirmed. Instructions for arrival are enclosed. Please note: All origins, class, wealth, and relationships will not exist while attending this university. This is your chance to begin anew.
I stopped.
Heart pounding.
Begin anew?
No royalty.
No expectations.
No chains.
Just… me.
I read the rest quickly, barely able to process it. The address listed was in the Misty Forest, the site where the Dark War ended. No one went there anymore. Rumor had it the land had absorbed so much destruction over the centuries that it became immune to decay. Trees grew unnaturally tall, mist never lifted, and strange lights flickered at night like ghost fires.
This had to be a prank.
But why go to such lengths?
And why send it to me?
I looked back at the crow, but it was already gone, leaving only the rose behind.
I stared at the flower for a long moment.
Then I stood up straighter.
If this place truly offered me a chance to escape—to live freely, without judgment or expectation—I had to know.
I wouldn't tell my parents.
I couldn't risk them stopping me.
Instead, I summoned my most trusted servant—my childhood friend, Lynx, who had served the family since we were both children. She was more than just a maid to me; she was the only person I could trust with something like this.
"I need you to investigate something for me," I told her when we returned to the castle hours later. "It's about a school called Blackthorn University."
Her eyes widened slightly, but she nodded without question.
As I walked to my room alone, I paused by the large window overlooking the gardens. I picked up the dark rose the crow left behind, turning it gently in my hands.
Tonight had changed everything.
Tomorrow, I would start preparing.
Because finally…
It was time for me.
__________
🌙 End of Prologue.