Veylith : The obscura prophecies

Everybody knows a story knows business once it starts with once upon a time or there once was.Those ancient phrases are spells , worn smooth by centuries of mouths and memories, promising wonder before the first breath is drawn. But this story refuses tradition. It does not bloom at the beginning or whisper hope into the dark. This one begins where all others fear to tread . This one begins with the end. The kingdom of Broda appeared to have everything a story could ever ask for. A kind and just king. A radiant queen. Laughing streets, open doors, and people who believed truly believed that harmony was permanent. Broda was the sort of place bards dreamed of and wars forgot. A fairytale perfected. Which, of course, should have been your first warning. This reads like the ending of another tale, doesn’t it? The happily ever after stitched neatly into place. But endings are dangerous things to trust. The king and queen of Broda had two children already, a firstborn son, heir to the crown, and a daughter with fire in her eyes and questions too sharp for her age. And still, fate was not finished with them. The queen carried a third child, a life not yet written, a future holding its breath. So yes now. Now you may believe the story is finally beginning. THE KINGDOM OF BRODA 16 YEARS AGO King Zukir ruled with a steady hand and a softer heart than history books usually allow. Queen Elga was beloved, luminous, and importantly had already done her duty twice. Their firstborn, Prince Idrak, was strong, clever, and painfully aware of it. Their second, Princess Vera, was graceful, charming, and had never broken a rule she couldn’t later improve. Everything was perfect. Which, naturally, meant it was time for something to go terribly wrong. The queen went into labor during the first and largest storm Broda had ever recorded though recorded is generous, as most of the scribes were busy running for their lives. The sky cracked open like it had been holding a grudge. Wind tore through fields, homes collapsed, ancient trees were uprooted, and animals fled or didn’t flee fast enough. For the first time in Broda’s long, polished history, everything was not good. No one danced. No bells rang. No one even pretended this was a blessing in disguise. And in the middle of that chaos, the third royal child was born. A girl. They named her Veylith because when you’re born into a storm that looks like the end of the world, subtlety is already off the table. Veylith did not cry much. She simply opened her eyes. That was when the room went quiet in the way people do when they realize they are about to have thoughts they do not want to explain out loud. Her hair was snow-white, stark against flawless brown skin. Her eyes were a bright, unsettling violet crystalline, reflective, like they were catching light from somewhere that did not exist in the room. No one in the royal line had ever looked like this. Not King Zukir with his iron gray gaze. Not Queen Elga with her warm brown eyes. Not Idrak. Not Vera. Veylith looked like an answer to a question no one remembered asking. Talk about first impressions. Outside, the storm continued its tantrum. Inside, the silence grew heavier by the second. The people of Broda would not celebrate this birth. They would not dance, or sing, or pretend that nothing had changed. The storm had seen to that. The kingdom had been wounded, and kingdoms like people have a tendency to assign blame where it is most convenient.And so King Zukir, kind ruler of a perfect land, made a decision. On the spot. To protect his kingdom.To preserve its happiness.To keep the story intact. The child would be sent away. Not harmed. Not abandoned, perish the thought. Simply… removed. Hidden somewhere far enough that fate would have to work overtime to find her again. After all, Broda had a reputation to maintain. And prophecies, as anyone with sense knows, can’t cause trouble if you don’t give them access to the main cast. Or so everyone hoped. PRESENT DAY Some say love is the ability to see someone’s flaws and love them regardless. Others say it lasts forever that it’s roses, beautiful hearts, and promises that never bend. That true love is endless. Absolute. All or nothing.That is not how I see it. People are more complicated than good or bad. Love can be real and still end. Love can be true and still not be enough. Love can be honest and still fail at the whole forever thing. Those were my final words. Silence followed the kind that means either I’d said something profound or everyone was too tired to argue with me. Hard to tell with teenagers. I slid back into my desk at the back of the classroom and stared at the clock, waiting for the final bell of the day like it was a personal favor owed to me by the universe. I glanced sideways. Of course. Him.He wasn’t the hottest guy in school no one with functioning eyesight would claim that but he was the only one looking at me. People here call me a freak. The girl who doesn’t look like everyone else. The one who doesn’t quite fit into the carefully curated sameness of this place. Ah yes. A classic story: the freak gets noticed by a boy.Only problem?I don’t care. I shot him a glare and faced forward again. Susan, the unfortunate soul presenting after me was still rambling on about how true love is sweet and pure and probably smells like vanilla cupcakes. Then the bell rang.A sound engineered specifically to soothe my soul. I stood and left before anyone else could decide to make small talk. Halfway out the door, someone called after me.”Veylith, wait up!”I turned.Him again. Of course. “What?” I said, not bothering to soften the edge. He smiled just briefly before thinking better of it. Interesting survival instinct.Up close, he looked… unusual. Long blond hair falling to his shoulders like he belonged in the wrong century. Grey eyes. Fair skin. Like someone had dropped a fantasy novel character into suburban California and hoped no one would notice. “Don’t bite my head off,” he said quickly. “Sir Silver gave us a task. We have to find an adventure, something unique and present it in a month. I was wondering if you wanted to pair up.” I stared at him for a long moment. “No.” Then I walked away. He followed. Brave. Foolish. “No?” he said. “I’m great company, I love mysteries and myths. We could uncover something big..” My phone rang, cutting him off. Dad flashed across the screen. “Dad,” I said the moment I answered, “I’m a huge fan of waiting endlessly by the road, so by all means, take your time.” He laughed. “Listen, sweetie, I can’t make it today. Can you catch a ride or something? I promise I’ll make it up to you.” I sighed and ended the call. When I looked up, those gray eyes were practically glowing with excitement. “No,” I said again preemptively this time and kept walking. To his credit, he didn’t argue. He just shrugged and headed the other way.Smart boy. I put my headphones in and let the music drown out the day. About halfway home, the sky darkened. “Wonderful,” I muttered. “What’s next , lightning and thunderstorms?” The universe, apparently, enjoys sarcasm. A massive bolt of lightning split the sky, followed by thunder so loud the ground answered back. Okay. Coincidence. Probably. I started running. By the time I reached home, I was soaked, annoyed, and vibrating with the uncomfortable sense that something had noticed me.Again The front door was still locked when I got home.Of course it was.I stood there for a second, rain dripping off my sleeves, staring at the door like it might suddenly feel bad for me and open itself. It didn’t. So I unlocked it and stepped inside. I live with just my dad. Sometimes his brother comes over for a day or two, drops vague comments about “work,” eats all the snacks, then disappears again. That’s the extent of my family. I don’t know my mother.I’ve never asked about her.Just like I’ve never asked my dad why he has white skin and blond hair while I have brown skin and …yeah, this is a little weird. “White hair”. The last part slipped out loud. Not blond. Not light brown. White. Snow-white. And not just white long, impossibly thick, and annoyingly beautiful. Sometimes sometimes it looks like it glows faintly in the dark. I’ve always assumed I was adopted and my dad just… opted out of that conversation. People avoid all kinds of things. This just happened to be one of them. I kicked off my shoes and headed straight to the kitchen. Leftover chicken waited in the fridge like a small miracle. Perfect. Cooking was not happening tonight. I took my food upstairs, shut my bedroom door, and flopped onto my bed with my homework spread out beside me. My mind, however, had other plans. Sir Silver’s assignment drifted back in. An adventure.Something unique.And then, annoyingly, so did him. The blond boy. Grey eyes. Myth-obsessed. Way too enthusiastic for someone talking to the school’s resident freak.Should I partner with him? I’d never really done anything with anyone from school outside of school. Not intentionally, anyway. The idea felt… strange. Uncomfortable. And, somehow, risky in a way I couldn’t explain.A soft knock interrupted my spiral. “Honey? Are you in there?” My dad’s voice filled the blessed silence that had existed seconds earlier. “Yes,” I called back. “And soaked.” “Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I had this thing I had to attend” I sighed. “It’s okay, Dad. I’ll warm up and get into bed.” The door opened just enough for him to lean in. His hair was damp, his eyes tired in that way that comes from carrying too many thoughts at once. “I love you,” he said quietly. “Okay? And I will not let anything, or anyone, take you away from me.” Then he closed the door. He didn’t wait for an answer. I stared at the door long after he left. Okay. Weird. Was he going through something? Stress, maybe. Work. Guilt. Parents had layers like that. Whatever it was, I figured he’d get past it. Eventually. I changed into dry clothes, crawled into bed, and let sleep take me ,completely unaware that the storm outside hadn’t finished what it started. And that something, somewhere, had already marked me as found.