Isoda

> They erased her name. Burned her bloodline. Left her for dead.

But Milena survived. Reborn into the heart of the empire that destroyed her, she moves through the royal courts like a shadow—silent, sharp, watching.

She has no interest in love. No patience for power games. Only one goal: make the crown remember what it tried to forget.

Then she meets him—the Crown Prince.
The man who unknowingly signed her family’s death.
The man who starts to notice her.
The man who, slowly… she can’t stop thinking about.

This is not the story of a girl who wanted to be queen.

This is the story of a forgotten heir who falls in love with her enemy… and still plans to bring down the kingdom

The forgotten blood

Blackwood Citadel loomed before them like a wound in the earth — all dark stone and iron gates, hidden deep in the ravine where sun rarely touched. Once a royal fortress, now twisted into a prison for those deemed "dangerous" to the crown.

And among them, Milena hoped, were the last embers of House Eldryn's loyalists.

They arrived under the cover of night. Gareth crouched beside her behind the cliffs, studying the guards below.

"Four at the front gate. Two on the tower. Probably more inside."

Milena's voice was steady. "Can you open the gate?"

"I can try. But we'll need a distraction."

She glanced down at her hand — the fox ring shimmered in the moonlight. "Leave that to me."

As Gareth crept along the outer wall, Milena stepped forward and raised her palm. The flame answered her call instantly — a controlled, radiant glow that gathered around her like a cloak. She sent a flare into the sky — a burst of fire shaped like the Eldryn crest.

The guards shouted, weapons drawn, confusion in their eyes. They'd seen that crest before — in history books, in forbidden pages. But never like this.

From the shadows, Gareth slipped through the side entrance, disabling two guards silently. Moments later, the outer gates creaked open.

The prisoners stared as she passed — gaunt faces pressed to bars, beaten but not broken. Many were silent. Some whispered.

Finally, she reached the heart of the citadel — a large chamber sealed by rusted chains. Behind them stood a man with hair like snow and eyes of molten bronze. He stepped forward slowly, as if unsure he could trust his own vision.

"You bear her flame," he said hoarsely. "You wear his ring."

"I am Milena of House Eldryn," she said. "Daughter of fire. Born again of ash."

The man dropped to one knee. "Then you have returned to lead us."

Chains shattered. Doors opened. And for the first time in seventeen years, the loyalists of Eldryn stood free beneath their true heir.

"Tonight," she said, voice strong, "we rise not to burn the kingdom — but to rebuild what it tried to destroy."

The Prison of the Loyal