CHAPTER ONE — THE NIGHT EVERYTHING CHANGED
1071 Words
Ella pov:
I was nineteen years old the night my life stopped belonging to me.
In Ristorn the little village where I grew up — nineteen was the age people started thinking about marriage, land, or whether the next harvest would be enough to keep us from starving. Nobody my age thought about magic, or kings, or the Choosing. Those things belonged to the old stories around the fire, the half-whispered warnings mothers used to scare children into behaving.
At least, that’s what I always told myself.
I wasn’t special. I wasn’t powerful. I was just Ella — a girl who lived in a two-room house with a leaking roof, who worked in the fields at dawn, who helped treat sick animals, who fixed worn-out boots for neighbors because I was one of the few with steady hands.
Normal. Ordinary. Forgettable.
And I liked it that way.
Our community believed the Choosing was just a tale from hundreds of years ago — a relic of the old kingdom. They said the marks didn’t appear anymore, that the sacrifices were myths, that the palace no longer had use for maidens.
So when the pain struck me awake that night… I didn’t expect my entire world to change.
I remember waking to the sound of my heartbeat — loud and unnatural. Not the slow, sleepy rhythm I always drifted to, but something sharp, like a fist pounding in my chest. I thought I was dying. I clutched my blanket, breath caught halfway in my throat.
Then the fire came.
A burning sting seared through my forearm so suddenly that I cried out. It wasn’t like touching a hot pot or scraping my skin. This was deeper — as if something under my flesh was carving its way out.
I stumbled from my bed, shouting in pain. My room was dimly lit by a clay lamp in the corner, just bright enough to see the shadows trembling across the walls. I pushed up my sleeve, desperate to understand what was happening to me.
And that’s when I saw it.
A glowing symbol, swirling in patterns I couldn’t understand, sat carved beneath my skin — not burned on top, but glowing from within. It was small, intricate, and eerily beautiful. A crown-shaped emblem, shining like molten gold.
My breath left my body.
I froze.
Then I whispered the words I had prayed I’d never have to say:
“Oh gods… I’ve been marked.”
I felt the panic rising fast, like cold water filling my lungs. Everyone knew the stories — even if we pretended not to.
When the mark appears, you cannot hide.
When the mark glows, the throne sees you.
When the throne sees you, you belong to it.
I pressed my hand hard over it, shaking so violently that I almost dropped the lamp. I wanted to wipe it off, scratch it out, break the glowing curse. But the light pulsed against my palm, warm and steady — alive.
My mind raced.
What would the village say?
Would they look at me with fear?
Pity?
Horror?
People in Ristorn feared the Choosing more than famine. They believed if a girl was taken, darkness followed the family for generations. Some called marked girls cursed. Others called them dead before they even left.
I didn’t want to be any of those things.
I just wanted to be Ella.
Simple, quiet, unnoticed Ella.
But the mark didn’t care.
Before I could decide what to do, three loud knocks shook my door.
My blood froze.
Only one group knocked like that — late at night, no hesitation, no softness.
The King’s Guard.
“Ella of Ristorn,” a deep male voice ordered, “open the door.”
I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. My entire body locked in place.
How did they know?
It had been minutes — seconds — since the mark appeared.
Had someone seen the light?
Did the mark call them?
Did the palace feel it?
The knock came again, harder. “By command of the Crown, you are summoned.”
Summoned.
The word made my stomach twist.
Everyone knew what that meant.
Another voice — a woman’s — spoke quietly, too calm for the chaos in my blood.
“Stand aside. She won’t open it.”
My door burst open.
The night wind rushed in, cold and cruel, as two armored guards stepped into my home. Their cloaks were deep red — the color of royal decree. Behind them walked a tall woman with long braided silver hair. Black symbols were inked across her throat.
A Seer.
My breath caught.
I’d never seen a Seer in real life. They were figures from legends — the King’s eyes, the throne’s will, the keepers of ritual…and execution.
The Seer’s gaze found my arm instantly, even though my sleeve was pulled down.
“Show me,” she said.
My voice cracked. “Please… I don’t want this.”
One of the guards reached for his sword.
I swallowed hard and slowly pushed my sleeve up.
The room filled with golden light.
The symbol glowed brighter — pulsing like a heartbeat — like it knew it was being seen. The guards exchanged alarmed looks. The Seer inhaled sharply, whispering something in an ancient language I didn’t understand.
Then she said something that made my knees weaken:
“It has returned.”
“What has?” I managed to whisper.
The Seer didn’t answer me. She simply turned to the guard.
“Prepare the carriage. She leaves before dawn.”
My heart dropped. “Leaves? Leaves where?”
Her cold eyes met mine. “To the obsidian palace. To join the seven.”
I felt my throat tighten. “I don’t want to be Queen.”
Her expression softened — not with kindness, but with something like sorrow.
“You misunderstand,” she said softly.
“You were not chosen to rule.”
Her next words destroyed me.
“You were chosen to survive.”
The guards stepped forward.
I stepped back.
“No—please! My family—my home—I’m not—please don’t take me!”
The Seer spoke without turning.
“Your life is no longer yours, Ella.”
She walked to the door, pausing as the night wind tugged at her cloak.
“Nothing that is claimed by the mark ever is.”
And just like that…
the world I knew ended.
- Writer
