Chapter 3: Whispers of Destiny
The grand gates of Omala Palace loomed before Nyssa, their golden engravings glistening under the afternoon sun. She inhaled sharply, steadying her nerves. The carriage ride from Elden Hollow had been long, giving her too much time to dwell on the unknown fate awaiting her.
She had never seen anything like this—ivory towers stretching toward the sky, marble pathways winding through pristine gardens, and servants bustling about in coordinated precision. The air itself felt different, thick with power and history.
The moment she stepped onto the palace grounds, murmurs arose. Nobles in fine silk robes whispered behind painted fans, their expressions ranging from curiosity to disdain.
"A commoner?"
"She doesn't belong here."
"How can someone like her be the future queen?"
Nyssa ignored them, keeping her chin high. She had spent her life being overlooked, but she would not let them see her fear.
A royal advisor led her through grand corridors, explaining the rules and expectations. "You will meet Prince Caelan before the evening feast. Until then, do not wander where you do not belong."
The warning was clear.
---
The First Meeting with Prince Caelan
A heavy silence filled the private chamber where Nyssa waited. She stood near a towering window, gazing at the kingdom below, willing her heartbeat to steady.
The door creaked open.
Prince Caelan Valerius entered, his presence commanding the space instantly. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark royal attire, he looked every bit the warrior prince she had heard of. His cold blue eyes assessed her with indifference, as if she were a stranger, not his future wife.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
"So this is the man I'm supposed to marry?" Nyssa thought. He was handsome, yes, but there was a storm behind his eyes—one that warned her to tread carefully.
"You're smaller than I expected," he finally said, his tone unreadable.
Nyssa lifted a brow. "And you're ruder than I expected, Your Highness."
A flicker of surprise crossed his face before his lips curled into a smirk. "You're bold."
"You're observant."
Caelan studied her again, this time with more interest. He had expected a meek girl, someone who would bend and break under pressure. Instead, she met his gaze with unwavering confidence.
"Do you understand what this marriage means?" he asked.
"It means I have no choice," she said plainly.
His expression hardened. "Neither of us do."
Their eyes locked, and for a brief moment, something passed between them—a strange pull, like an invisible thread tying them together. When Nyssa blinked, the sensation was gone.
Caelan turned toward the door. "The feast begins at sunset. Do not embarrass yourself."
And then, he was gone.
Nyssa exhaled sharply. What have I gotten myself into?
---
The Vision That Changes Everything
That night, the palace hummed with life as nobles dined and music filled the halls. But Nyssa could not sleep. Her body ached from the weight of expectations, and her mind would not quiet.
Then, it happened.
A sudden sharp pain split through her skull. Her vision blurred, and the world tilted.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
She stood in the middle of the palace halls, but something was wrong. The air was thick with smoke, torches flickered violently, and a suffocating sense of dread settled in her bones.
A shadowed figure moved through the corridors—a man cloaked in darkness, his face hidden.
Then, she saw Caelan. He stood at the heart of the chaos, blood staining his tunic, his sword raised against an unseen enemy.
A whisper curled around her ear.
"One choice will bind you."
"One choice will break you."
"Choose wisely, or lose everything."
The vision shattered.
Nyssa gasped awake, her body drenched in sweat. The warning echoed in her mind.
Someone in the palace was planning betrayal.
And Caelan was in danger.
---
A Warning and a Challenge
The next morning, Nyssa met with the High Priestess Selene, a woman whose presence commanded silence. The priestess peered into Nyssa's soul with piercing silver eyes.
"You carry a gift," Selene murmured. "A dangerous one."
Nyssa's hands clenched. "I never asked for it."
"No gift is given without purpose," Selene said. "But be warned—gifts like yours have been hunted before."
Nyssa swallowed hard.
Before she could ask more, she was summoned to the court.
A "test" had been arranged—a public challenge to prove she was worthy of her title.
In the grand hall, nobles watched as Lady Evelyne, a noblewoman with sharp eyes, stepped forward. "A queen must have a mind as sharp as her sword," she said smoothly. "Shall we see if our little commoner is capable?"
Nyssa was presented with three challenges:
1. A test of etiquette – She was given a scenario where she had to navigate courtly conversation without offending a noble.
2. A test of intelligence – A riddle, meant to expose her lack of education.
3. A test of strategy – A small-scale war game using figurines on a map.
The nobles expected her to fail.
But she did not.
Nyssa had spent her life observing people, learning in silence. She passed the etiquette test by turning insults into compliments. She solved the riddle in moments, leaving the court stunned. And in the strategy game, she outmaneuvered her opponent with an unexpected move, proving her ability to think ahead.
Whispers spread through the hall.
"Perhaps she is not as unworthy as we thought."
Prince Caelan, watching from the shadows, felt something shift inside him.
This girl—his unwanted betrothed—was not weak.
---
Caelan's Growing Fascination
As night fell, Nyssa found herself alone in the gardens, needing air.
Footsteps approached.
Caelan.
"You surprised them today," he said, stepping beside her.
Nyssa kept her gaze on the distant city lights. "Did I surprise you?"
He was silent for a moment. Then: "Yes."
A cool breeze passed between them.
"You didn't want this marriage," she said. "Neither did I. But we're here now."
Caelan exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "I don't trust easily, Nyssa."
"I don't, either."
Their eyes met in the dim light. For once, the usual coldness in Caelan's expression softened.
Then, without thinking, he reached out. His fingertips barely brushed hers.
A spark jolted through them.
Nyssa inhaled sharply. The same strange pull as before.
Caelan pulled away first, his expression unreadable. "Good night, Nyssa."
And then he was gone, leaving her more confused than ever.