Eternal Vows

Dyana was standing by her small room's window when the moonlight spilled in, highlighting the dust particles that were dancing in the air. She was reminded of worlds beyond her own, realms that felt more and more distant from her, by the great expanse of the starry sky beyond. Her heart heaving from the weight of her reality, she pushed her palm against the cool glass. The sounds of music and laughing reverberated through the corridors of the opulent House Eldrin mansion, in sharp contrast to the silence that surrounded her. Every nobility in the galaxy was present for the yearly gala, which celebrated the might and dignity of the imperial family. But Dyana felt like a ghost lingering on the periphery of a life she was never supposed to lead, especially with her disheveled hair and ragged clothing. She was hardly even a lady in training at seventeen, let alone a member of society. She had arrived here as a result of the Empress's decree, which had been made without consulting her. It was like years of abandonment on top of years of neglect, in her opinion. When she was a little child, her mother had abandoned her, leaving her to fend for herself in a world that seemed determined to forget her. Her father had never been there to provide support or direction; he was a faraway figure shrouded in the shadow of his own regrets. Dyana's chest constricted with jealousy as she watched the lavish carriages pull up, each one bringing lords and women decked out in jewels and finery. She desired the warmth of belonging and the acceptance that came with being noticed and appreciated more than the opulence they wore. Rather, she was relegated to the periphery, an unwelcome echo of her family's past transgressions. "Dyana! Her reverie was interrupted by a shrill voice calling from the corridor, "Are you coming or not?" Maris was the only person she had company with in this desolate fortress, even though their bond was more of a burden than a consolation. The Empress had selected Maris to assist her in adjusting to life at court, a responsibility that Maris took far too seriously. "I—" Dyana hesitated, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The hand-me-down blue dress she wore hung awkwardly on her body; it had been gifted to her by the Empress. Embarrassed of the girl staring back at her, she turned her back on her mirror. "Dyana!" Maris pressed, her tone becoming agitated. "It's the introductions you'll miss. The Duke of Arenth is in attendance and seeking a dancing partner. Dyana flinched at the idea. She felt badly deficient in grace and confidence, two qualities that dancing required, thus she decided it was not for her. She tried to sound solid, but her voice faltered as she said, "I think I'll stay here, Maris." "Then stay hidden in your room like a mouse," Maris yelled back, her tone betraying her frustration. But when you understand how much you're missing, don't expect sympathy. Dyana moved back inside the room and turned away from the window, breathing a dejected sigh. Maris was correct; the world she was losing out on would never seem like her own. She was afraid, though, because she knew that each of those well-groomed faces would serve as a constant reminder of her own shortcomings. Alright. Please give me a moment," Dyana pleaded, making herself muster the bravery to emerge from the security of her isolation. The enchanting atmosphere created by the sparkling crystal chandeliers as she ascended the big staircase only served to heighten her sensation of loneliness. Her senses were overwhelmed by the whirl of colors and sensations as the hall came to life with laughter and conversation. And yet, even in the midst of the fun, she had the feeling that she was somewhere else entirely—an observer, not a part of it. "Dyana!" The Empress's voice pierced the background noise with its sharp tone. Dyana's pulse pounded. The Empress demanded respect and attention because of her powerful presence. Dyana saw the keen sparkle of expectancy and pride in the Empress's eye as she drew nearer. Yes, you are there. "I was starting to question whether you would recall the significance of this evening," the Empress remarked, her tone lighthearted but undercut with a hint of severity. "Come, you have to greet the visitors." Dyana took a deep breath. Meeting the guests required her to step into the spotlight, something she had never liked to do. Yet, she made herself move forward as she caught a glimpse of the Empress's reassuring grin. Dyana felt the scrutiny of others pressing down on her as they made their way through the throng. Whispers drifted through the air, some with scorn and others with wonder, as eyes followed her. She heard one woman whisper to her friend, "Look at her." "She's merely a needy person." Her position in this world was brought home to her by the sharp words they said. The feeling of being abandoned throbbed inside her like a sour cut, and she was only a pawn in a game she didn't want to play. The Empress pointed to a towering, imposing man with a silver mane and piercing blue eyes and said, "Dyana, dear, this is Lord Kellan." "He is among our most distinguished visitors." With a small bow, Lord Kellan murmured, "Pleasure to meet you, Lady Dyana," but Dyana felt uneasy because of the amused look in his eyes. She stumbled, hardly raising her voice beyond a whisper, "Y-You too." She continued walking and heard brief bits of speech that gave her heart palpitations. Revelries of battles waged and coalitions formed, rumors of treachery capable of upending even the mightiest households. Every word replayed itself in her head, a constant reminder that gaining power was a dangerous game for which she was ill-equipped. Abruptly, she noticed a disturbance. A throng of nobility gathered along the magnificent staircase, their countenances glowing with enthusiasm. "What's going on?" Dyana inquired, her interest peaked. "It's just the Duke of Arenth coming," Maris remarked, her admiring gaze dazzling. It's said that he's hunting for a wife. A striking figure descended the stairway, and the crowd broke apart. The other nobility seemed insignificant in contrast to the towering, dark-haired Duke who radiated confidence and chiseled features. He looked around the room as he got to the bottom, briefly focusing on Dyana. The world collapsed around her in that moment. For a brief moment, she felt seen—truly seen—as though time had stopped. The spark of possibility that ignited the link sent a thrill running through her veins. However, the moment broke as fast as it had arrived. The Duke looked away, her golden gown catching his eye along with that of another noblewoman. A flood of disappointment washed over Dyana, but it was soon replaced by the comforting grasp of self-doubt. Observe? He's not even looking at you," Maris remarked, her tone having become less understanding. "Dyana, you have to be noticeable. If not, no one will ever notice you. "Perhaps it's fortunate that way," Dyana answered, her heart pounding. "I don't want to be something that can be won." Maris opened her mouth to reply, but their talk was cut off by an abrupt crash. The assembly exclaimed, and Dyana's heart skipped a beat upon turning to witness an attendant laboriously gathering broken glass fragments from a toppled chandelier. The lights flickered and the hall darkened before she could realize what was going on. Panic raced through the gathering as gasps filled the air. The Empress ordered, her voice breaking through the confusion, "Stay close to me." Dyana's pulse quickened as she gripped Maris's arm. Shuffling feet and whispers filled the oppressive darkness as people fought to make their way out. A moment later, the room was lighted by a sudden flash of light, exposing the Duke in the center, his look solemn. "What's going on?" His voice forceful yet tinged with hesitation, he demanded. A feeling of dread descended upon Dyana as the room continued to be in disarray, causing her to gasp for air. She realized then that everything will be different this night. Dyana's heart fell when the lights flickered back on, exposing the worried faces surrounding her. There was a shadowy figure standing in the doorway, and there was an obvious threat about them. With a low, menacing voice, the figure growled, "Your time has come, Dyana." Dyana felt the weight of her history bearing down on her as a shiver went down her spine and she held Maris even harder. How could this stranger mean anything? A silent cry echoed in Dyana's consciousness as the person moved closer, causing the crowd to split in horror.