PROLOGUE

The throne room fell into a heavy, stunned silence.

Lady Alexandra's voice rang sharp and clear, like the clang of a blade on cold stone. "Take her to the dungeon."

For a heartbeat, everything stood still.

Samantha blinked, confused. Her gaze flicked from her aunt's cruel expression to the guards flanking the doors. Had she heard correctly? The air seemed to freeze in her lungs.

The two palace guards looked at each other, visibly startled. One shifted on his feet, uncertain. The other hesitated with his hand halfway to his sword. "Your Grace," the older one began carefully, "she's the princess…"

"I said," Lady Alexandra's voice dropped an octave, calm but dangerously cold, "take her to the dungeon."

Still, the guards didn't move.

A flicker of fury passed over Alexandra's face. Her red eyes narrowed, glowing slightly beneath the golden light of the throne room. "Do you dare question my authority?" she hissed, her voice slicing through the silence. "Shall I throw you in with her?"

The men stiffened instantly. "No, Your Grace," they murmured.

Then they moved.

Samantha stepped back instinctively, her hands trembling. "Aunt Alexandra… why?"

Her aunt descended the steps from the throne, her black velvet gown flowing like smoke around her. "Because you were born powerless in a kingdom built on magic," she said. "You are a stain on our name. And now… your time under this roof has come to an end."

Samantha's loyal dog, Blaze, barked sharply and leapt in front of her. He bared his teeth, a golden blur of defiance against the guards.

"Blaze, no!" she cried as one of the men raised a hand. A flash of violet magic burst from his palm, striking the dog and sending him crashing into the floor with a pained yelp.

"Blaze!" she screamed, lunging forward, but the guards grabbed her arms roughly. Tears spilled from her eyes, not from fear, but rage.

"I've done nothing wrong!" she shouted. "I'm your niece! The daughter of the late Queen!"

"You are nothing but a mistake," Alexandra said coldly. "Your mother was weak, and you are even weaker."

The words sank into Samantha like ice. She didn't resist as the guards dragged her down the long corridor, past watching servants who dared not speak, past the portraits of her ancestors—all mages and rulers—whose eyes seemed to follow her in silent judgment.

She was pulled through ancient doors and down into the torch-lit underbelly of the palace, her boots scraping against the cold stone steps. The scent of damp earth and old magic filled her nose.

The dungeon door groaned as it opened. The cell was small, dark, and cold.

The guards shoved her inside. The iron door slammed shut behind her, leaving only silence.

Samantha leaned against the wall, breathing hard. Her dog was hurt. Her throne stolen. Her life, shattered.

But even in the darkness, something stirred—deep within her chest. A warmth. A whisper.

For the first time in her life… something was waking up.