Bride of The Eclipse

Spoiled Child Screams "Mom!"

The palace always quiets after a storm. Not because the storm is gone— but because everything is waiting to see what it has destroyed.

Seraphine’s cries echoed long after she ran from the hall. They did not fade quickly. Her emotions were not the kind that softened with distance. They filled space, clung to walls, lingered in the air like something that refused to be ignored. Even when she was no longer in sight—she was still the center of everything.

My stepmother was the first to move. “Elira,” my father said, but there was no command in his voice—only recognition. She did not answer him. She had already turned, already gathered the edges of her gown, already walking with purpose that bordered on urgency.

She did not run. But she moved faster than she ever had for me. My father remained still for a moment longer. Then he exhaled, low and controlled, as if containing something beneath his calm.

“Leave,” he ordered.

The court obeyed instantly. Gods, servants, attendants—everyone disappeared from the hall as if they had never been there at all. All except me. He nnoticed But didn't say anything. Just turned— and followed.

I waited only a moment before I moved as well. Not because I was concerned nor care. But because I had learned that when something breaks in this palace— it is always worth watching.

Seraphine’s chambers were not far, yet the distance felt longer tonight. The closer we got, the louder her crying became—no longer restrained, no longer elegant. It was raw, uneven, almost suffocating in its intensity. She was not trying to control it.

The doors were already open when my stepmother entered. I did not follow them inside. I stopped at the threshold as I always did.

Seraphine was collapsed against the edge of her bed, her carefully arranged appearance undone in a matter of moments. Her hair had fallen loose, her gown wrinkled, her breath uneven as she tried—and failed—to steady herself.

“I won’t do it,” she cried the moment she saw them. “I won’t!”

Elira crossed the room immediately, kneeling beside her, hands reaching, voice softening into something almost maternal.

“Hush, my love… calm yourself.”

“No!” Seraphine pulled away, shaking her head violently. “You can’t make me—do you even know what he is?!”

Silence followed. “I know,” Elira said quietly. And that was enough to make Seraphine’s expression crumble further.

“They say he kills them,” she whispered, her voice breaking into something smaller, more fragile than I had ever heard. “The brides… they don’t come back. Not alive. Not… anything.”

Her hands trembled. “He’s a monster.” My father stepped forward then, his presence filling the room without effort.

“He is a ruler,” he said. Seraphine looked at him like he had betrayed her personally. “That’s not the same thing!” Her voice cracked again, desperation rising.

“You’re sending me to die!”

“You will not die,” he replied, calm as ever. And I realized then— he was not trying to comfort her. He was stating what he believed to be fact. “How do you know that?” she demanded.

He didn't answer. Elira reached for Seraphine again, more gently this time, brushing her hair back with careful hands. “You are strong,” she murmured. “You are clever. You will learn how to survive him.”

“I don’t want to survive him!” Seraphine cried. “I don’t want to go there at all!”

Her voice dropped, quieter now, but no less desperate. “I want… I want what she has.” The words lingered. Heavy. Sharp. Unavoidable.

For a moment, no one spoke. But I felt it. The shift. I remained at the doorway, unseen in the way I had always been but listening.

“She did nothing to earn it,” Seraphine whispered bitterly. “She just stood there—and he chose her.” Her hands clenched against the fabric of her gown. “It should have been me!”

Elira’s expression flickered—just for a moment. Then smoothed. “You are not being punished,” she said softly. “This is an alliance.”

Seraphine laughed weakly. “A death sentence is not an alliance.” My father’s gaze darkened slightly. “That is enough.” But it wasn’t. Not for her.

“I won’t go,” she said again, quieter now—but firmer. “You can’t make me.”

Another silence. My father looked at me. “Selene." he called out, voice called. “Yes, father?" I responded.

“As a good sister, shouldn't you be thinking of a way to help your sister?" My eyes narrowed as I looked down the floor. “You didn't even bother to take her place."

That doesn't make any sense at all. Truly. My father has gone blind by that mortal. I didn't answer immediately. “I'll think about it.." I quietly replied. He looked away, a mix of disappointment and irritation. I guess he dislikes my attitude. Maybe because it resembles my mother so much.

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