RF_Axel

In a land of ancient curses and forgotten oaths, Lady Seraphina Dorne is sent north to marry the reclusive Duke Alistair Ravensbourne, a man whose name is whispered in fear and whose castle, Ravenglade Keep, is said to be cursed. The match is not of her choosing, but it is a way to escape the suffocating confines of courtly life—if only she can endure one month in the duke’s shadowed halls.  

But Ravenglade Keep is no ordinary place. The walls hum with unseen forces, the torches burn with an unnatural blue flame, and whispers creep through the halls in the dead of night. No woman has ever stayed with the duke for long. Some flee. Others… vanish.  

Alistair is a man burdened with secrets, his silver eyes hiding truths he refuses to share. He warns Seraphina to stay away from the eastern wing, to ignore the voices that call to her in the dark. But she cannot—will not—turn a blind eye to the mysteries that surround her.  

As Seraphina delves deeper into the truth, she uncovers an ancient vow—one bound in blood, moonlight, and a fate neither she nor Alistair can escape. Their fates are entwined, but in ways far more dangerous than marriage.  

What begins as a reluctant alliance slowly shifts into something else—something fragile, something forbidden. But in a place where love can be a curse, Seraphina must decide: will she fight for the truth, or will she become just another name lost to the keep’s dark history?  

Because the longer she stays, the clearer it becomes.  

The keep is watching.  

And it does not let go.

The Moonlit Vow

Seraphina's breath was still unsteady as she leaned against the stone wall of the armory. The lingering sensation of the vision clung to her—cold, weightless, like she had been pulled from one world into another.

But she forced herself to steady her thoughts.

What she had seen wasn't a plea. It wasn't even necessarily *Ronan*.

Alistair stood near the pedestal, his eyes dark with something unreadable. His presence was tense, but he hadn't spoken yet.

Finally, he asked, "What did you see?"

Seraphina hesitated, forcing herself to focus on the details. "A path. Endless and dark. I wasn't standing on it, but I felt like I could have been pulled forward if I took another step."

She exhaled. "There was someone at the threshold, but I couldn't see them clearly."

Alistair's expression hardened. "You *think* it was Ronan?"

Seraphina frowned. "*Possibly.* But I can't say for certain. They didn't move. They didn't even try to speak to me." She shook her head, piecing together the fragments in her mind. "If it was meant to be a message, it wasn't one I understood."

Alistair's jaw clenched. "This is worse than I thought."

Seraphina tilted her head slightly. "Why?"

He ran a hand through his hair before turning away. "Because the Nightbane blade shouldn't be able to show you something like this unless the path to the Vale is already opening." His gaze flickered toward the sword, still gleaming where it had fallen.

"And if the path is opening, then something is trying to *cross it*."

Seraphina considered his words carefully.

Alistair exhaled sharply. "No. But it does mean something is reaching through."

That thought unsettled her more than the vision itself.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, finally, Seraphina bent down, hesitating only briefly before picking up the sword. The metal was cool in her hands, its weight unsettling in how *natural* it felt.

She ran her fingers along the edge, deep in thought. "If this is a warning, we should find out what it means before something worse happens."

Alistair studied her for a long moment. "You're certain you want to do this?"

"I'm certain that we don't have a choice."

Alistair's expression darkened, but after a long silence, he nodded.

The hours before dawn passed in restless anticipation.

Seraphina had barely slept, her mind turning over every possibility. The vision had not felt like an invitation—but it had also not felt like a simple illusion.

Whatever had called to her had done so with *purpose*.

Now, as she stood near the stables, adjusting the straps of her saddle, she turned the thought over again.

Alistair approached, his cloak shifting in the cold morning breeze.

"We'll take the northern road," he said, checking his horse's bridle. "If the path is opening, there may be signs along the way."

Seraphina mounted her horse, gripping the reins tightly. "And if there aren't?"

Alistair met her gaze. "Then we go to the Vale itself."

No one who entered the Black Vale ever returned.

And yet, here they were, about to seek it out.

The great iron gates of Ravenglade Keep groaned open, and the road stretched wide and empty before them, the forest thick with shadows.

Seraphina rested her hand against the hilt of the Nightbane blade.

She had never met Ronan. She had no personal stake in his fate.

But she was *not* blind to the significance of what was happening.

Echoes of the Past