Chapter 2: Belle
347 Words
Morning light streamed gently through the arched windows of Belle’s chamber, brushing over ivory walls, embroidered curtains, and a delicate crown resting on her vanity. The palace stirred with quiet life: maids changing linens, the soft creak of boots in the hall, and the sound of distant bells tolling in the capital beyond the hills.
The Kingdom of Elaria woke slowly, as it always did. Horses clopped over cobblestone streets. Market stalls were being set up with fresh fruit and hand-sewn fabrics. Above it all, the royal standard fluttered softly over the tallest spire against the silver sky.
Belle sat at her desk in silence, with the soft hum of the morning carrying on outside her window. Her tea had gone cold, untouched, while her mind drifted far away.
She had slept oddly.
There had been a dream—bright, wordless—but strangely comforting. It left a warmth in her chest she hadn’t felt before. Though she couldn’t recall the images, the feeling hadn’t faded. Not even now.
She gathered her books, brushed a lock of golden hair behind her ear, and glanced at her phone.
Her hand froze.
Between her school planner and message app was something she had never seen.
A heart-shaped icon, half glowing gold, half shrouded in dark gray. Smooth edges. Simple design. Almost elegant.
Eclipsed Hearts.
Belle narrowed her eyes slightly and tapped it.
The screen blinked once, then nothing.
No response. No crash. Just a faint glow, like the app was breathing.
Strange.
She didn’t remember downloading anything new, and no one from the academy had mentioned a new app.
There was no time to wonder. Elin knocked, reminding her the carriage would arrive shortly.
Belle slipped the device into her satchel and stood, smoothing the folds of her navy skirt. She didn’t think more about the strange app as she made her way through the corridors—greeting knights with a nod, passing scholars in long coats, and walking past stained-glass windows older than her great-grandfather.
Everything in her world was as it should be.
And yet, something wasn’t.
- Writer
