The Prince and Liana's Seed

Chapter One - The Royal Summons

(Liana’s POV)

"WHERE IS SHE? GET HER NOW!"

The command, sharp and unforgiving, tore through the Royal Courts. King Jeffrey Hermford’s voice was a grating rumble that promised immediate consequence.

"Summon Liana Aurora, the young soothsayer, right now. A great prophecy was illuminated last night through the GOLDEN OCLET STONE – a sacred relic bequeathed by OUR GREAT MOTHER, AMAYA, to speak to her lineage."

The air across the kingdom felt suddenly cold.

"The Queen herself, the best soothsayer and Official Diviner of the Royal Court of Myana, stepped forward and foretold the interpretation right there upon the great AMAYA ALTAR where the Stone rests. Liana Aurora – a young girl, quiet yet carrying an ocean of dormant spiritual power was seen to be the terrifying core of this prophecy."

"Go! Now! Find Liana Aurora! Scan throughout the capital and the whole kingdom, we must find her!" The King’s hand slammed down upon the arm of his throne.

The Royal Guard and the King’s attendants fanned out, their voices ringing with chilling uniformity across the small kingdom of Myana:

"LIANA AURORA, THE YOUNG SOOTHSAYER OF THE KINGDOM OF MYANA, HAS BEEN SUMMONED! WHERE IS SHE?"

My heart, a pathetic, fearful thing, seemed to shrivel when the cry reached me. For the King to summon me? The solitary orphan? The girl with the eyes of ash? It was a deal of monumental, terrifying consequence. What could the King possibly want with a being so utterly detached from his gilded world?

They called me an orphan, and the word clung to me like a shroud. I was the only child of my father, a man of simple courage,who fell years ago defending Myana. A year later, my mother succumbed to the SERMIN ILLNESS – that hideous blight that has cursed our land for generations, where the skin sloughs away like moth-eaten silk. They say no one survives it a year. She didn't.

Then, I was struck with the FASHEK. It wasn’t a physical illness, but a violent, spiritual schism – a phenomenon said to mark only the powerful or the innately gifted diviners. My eyes, once a simple brown, turned an unnatural, uniform gray, a disturbing, sightless color that drained all life and warmth from my countenance. People looked at me and recoiled, convinced I was a freak torn from another realm. My hair became a chaotic, wild mass, springing up like an electrified rag, defying every comb, marking me as the other, a witch. I was utterly excised from society.

It was during this time that I began to drift – to step occasionally into the spiritual world, to see the threads of the future. At eighteen, I was grudgingly acknowledged as the kingdom’s second-best soothsayer; a title held in equal parts awe and contempt, second only to the Queen herself, whose talent was nothing short of astonishing. But a summons to the

famous, prestigious Royal Courts? Never in my foresights.

I was not one to be found in temples. My sanctuary was the small treehouse I built in the kingdom's West, nestled deep within the shadowed woods. The enchanted trees whispered secrets, making it easier to tap into the Aether. The forest was peace; the court, I knew, would be peril.

I was in the bustling capital market, buying my only indulgence – Milk & Honey Bean Rice, when I heard the renewed, desperate call.

"You're looking for Liana Aurora, the soothsayer," I murmured, stepping out from the shade of a stall, pulling my thin veil tightly around the lower half of my face.

The King's attendant, a stiff man in a crimson doublet, consulted a small, stark drawing, then his eyes snapped back to me. He gaped, then fell to one knee, the stone of the marketplace cold beneath him.

"It is truly you, Lady Liana," he stammered, the title unfamiliar and unwelcome upon my ears. "I am honored to have been the one to locate you."

Lady Liana? No one has ever called me that… or ever bowed to me.

"Rise," I commanded, my voice surprisingly steady. "Tell me why the King has sent for me."

"My King requests your immediate presence at the Royal Courts. Unfortunately," the attendant stated, his face now a rigid mask of duty, "no further details may be disclosed, save by the King himself."

I hesitated only a moment, pulling my veil tighter, wrapping myself in bewildering acceptance. The mystery was a lure, a dark hole I was compelled to look into.

The gates of the Royal Courtyard were colossal, a black, wrought-iron promise of impossible majesty and utter isolation. I had only ever heard of them. The sheer, oppressive scale made me gasp, a lone, frail figure against the vast architecture of power.

The attendant led me through the echoing courtyards, stopping at the threshold of the King’s private quarters.

"King Jeffrey is within. None are permitted to enter unless commanded by His Majesty. But you, Lady Liana, are expected." He said.

"Are you certain?" I whispered, my heart hammering a violent rhythm against my ribs.

"Do not fear, Lady Liana," the attendant said, offering a tight, unconvincing smile as he tapped my shoulder.

"You will not be harmed. If anything... you will be empowered. As a great legend of our kingdom." He smiled.

Empowered, or entrapped?

Taking a deep, trembling breath, I pushed open the heavy, ornate door. The room was dim, the light choked by velvet drapes, and the air was thick with the scent of old wood and old power.

"Greetings, my King." I sank to my knees, clutching the veil atop my head, my gaze fixed on the cold stone floor.

King Jeffrey Hermford, a formidable man of great bulk and severe countenance, peered down from the throne. He scrutinized me from my messy, wild hair down to my threadbare boots. The sight of him, so close, was overwhelming.

He removed his heavy crown, a gesture of frightening informality, and called me closer.

"Are you the young lad who is called Liana Aurora, the soothsayer?" he asked, his voice low, but weighted with the terror of supreme authority.

"Yes, my King. It is I."

"Very well." He leaned forward, his eyes suddenly glittering with an unnatural, fanatic intensity—a look I’d seen on men who spoke of salvation and ruin in the same breath.

"Listen carefully, Liana Aurora." He frowned.

He spoke of Amaya, the kingdom's founder, the greatest diviner who ever lived, Our great mother who established and dutifully led the early people of our land; whose spiritual prowess saved the naive people of Myana three centuries ago. He spoke of the Oclet Stone that channeled her power, and the Queen who interpreted its visions.

"I am highly aware, my King," I replied, but the acknowledgment felt hollow. Why was I here? The Queen was the official soothsayer. I was a footnote, a shadow in the woods, and not so powerful of a diviner.

"Pardon me, my King," I dared to ask, my voice barely a rustle. "But what use am I that you, of all people, would send for me?"

"A prophecy has been made," he boomed, the sound echoing off the stone walls like a peal of distant thunder.

"And you, Liana Aurora, were found within it."

The very notion stunned me. Prophecies from the Oclet Stone were sacred and terrifying. That I, the lowly pariah, should be the subject of Amaya’s divine concern was unthinkable.

"Of what importance am I, that a prophecy by our great mother would be about me?" I pressed, my curiosity finally overcoming my fear.

The King cleared his throat, leaning back, the grand chamber suddenly silent.

"IT WAS REVEALED TO MY WIFE, QUEEN REBECCA, THE KINGDOM’S ROYAL DIVINER. ACCORDING TO HER VISION, YOU ARE DESTINED TO MARRY MY SON, PRINCE JOSHUA HERMFORD, AND AFTER TWO YEARS OF MARRIAGE, BEAR A SON. THE PROPHECY DECLARES THAT THIS CHILD, BORN OF YOUR SEED… OF YOU WHOSE FORMIDABLE POWER LIES DEEP WITHIN, WILL BE THE ONE TO SAVE MYANA FROM THE GREAT TERROR APPROACHING.”

WHAT!

The words were a physical blow. My heart lurched, stopping dead in my chest. My thin veil, which I had clutched for protection, slipped from my head and fell softly to the stone floor. Marry the Prince? An unknown man? Against my will? To be a vessel for a savior?

How could it be me? Amaya, the Great Mother who founded our kingdom and now long returned to dust, yet still speaking through the sacred Oclet Stone, declares that I, powerless to refuse yet bound by the immense power slumbering deep within me, must wed Prince Hermford, and in the years foretold, bear the child destined to shield Myana from the terror she foresaw?

No. That was an unthinkable violation of my solitary life. A prophecy, even one from Amaya, did not have the right to dictate my soul. That was utter, unspeakable nonsense!