CURSED BY THE FAE PRINCE

Chapter 1: The Girl Who Stole the Rose The swollen crimson moon, intense in the sky, hung low, giving off a magical glow over Whispering Woods like an eerie warning. But Lyra had long since taken her mind clear off the warnings, seeming unbothered. Her fingers on her right hand were trembling slightly under the hem of her dress, and her left hugged her woven basket tighter, threading beneath the deformed branches that clawed down from the trees, their crooked forms swinging under the breath of the chill wind, like whisperings eerily through the leaves. “Don't go in, Don't go in” The myths had always been the same; the ancient Woods were said to be cursed, besides the Fae creatures that defended their depths were relentless of course. Those who have roamed too far were said to have vanished beyond any whiff. However, all these didn't prick her to have a change of heart, for Lyra there was no other choice. Her only brother lay fever-stricken back in their village, The healer's words: “Only moonbloom petals could save him” kept echoing in her mind like a haunting hook. Petals which only grew in the heart of this mysterious woods, solely on nights drenched in the eerie light cast on by the moon. Chilly wind shifted again, twirling chilly tendrils around her ankles, however Lyra huddled on , struggling with every step against the cold shivers that chomped at her through her threadbare shawl. Her feet plunged further into the damp, spongy moss as she launched deeper. The echoed with the calls of the night birds; owls and the squeaking of unseen creatures flurrying through the underbush. Alas, she caught sight of it. Curled up between the hearts of a knotty tree, a delicate, ethereal silver flower, its petals glimmering with flimsy veins of luminescence. “Moonbloom”, she gasped while covering her mouth. Lowering to her knees in the verdant moss, her sleek fingers reached out instinctively towards it. However, merely behind the moonlit flower, another one caught her breath— a taller bloom, captivating and radiant, its depths throbbing rhythmically like a living heartbeat. The petals seeped from a warm golden hue into a profound rich crimson. This one… it sang to her. Her hand poised in hesitation. Just take it, one extra flower. Without a thought and a beat that felt both overdaring and alive, she pulled it from the earth. Instantly, the world around her fell silent. Then— A thunderous c***k shattered the stillness, her heart skipping a beat in fear and the earth trembling underneath her feet as the flower in her hand turned icy cold. The moment Lyra’s fingers closed around the silver-blue bloom petal, the forest fell unnaturally silent. No wind. No rustle. Not even the usual hum of the night insects nor the singing owls from earlier. She blinked, heart thudding. The flower pulsed once in her hand—like it was breathing. Then a voice spoke. Not from beside her. Not from behind her. But within. “You were warned” The bloom she had picked earlier, which was different from the one she was supposed to pick up for her brother’s cure; turned cold in her palm, the stem began to rot, blackened. Lyra flung it to the ground fearfully, stumbling back, but it was too late. On the trees, were coiling shadows, twisted like living mist. “Foolish girl,” finally a sound, a voice whizzed from the creeping shadows that crept forward. And then— he appeared Lyra’s heart racing at that point, she spunned to meet face to face with a figure emerging from the thick mist, figure standing tall and poised, cloaked in the dark shot with silver threads that shimmered in the moonlight. This figure took upon a male stand and his eyes sparkling like a pale blue winter lightning against a raging stormy sky. His skin was impossibly satiny, mirroring the faint light, a testament to his unearthly beaut. “A Fae”, Lyra pondered as she stared. Never had she seen one. “No one touches the Moonbloom,” he warned, his voice soft but tinged with dismay. “Not without paying the price.” “Who are you?” she demanded, gripping her basket. The figure tilted his head. “You trespass. You steal. You take what’s forbidden.” His voice sounded so smooth but terrifyingly calm and yet detached. “I never knew” she whispered. “But yet you reached out for what was never yours.” He took few steps towards her. “Do you know what must happen now?” “No. Please… my brother—he’s sick, I just needed the—” But he was already lifting a hand. “I marked you. “You are now bound to the Nightshade Court. To me.” “I— I didn’t know,” Lyra spoke at last but stammering, as the weight of her actions finally pondered heavily on her, in that panic she staggering took a step backwards. He raised a hand, graceful yet chilling. The flower she had picked up earlier crushing to ash in her hands. Also in that instant, an intense heat surrounded her— it didn't feel like fire, but it was pure and wild magic. It seeped and burned into her collarbone, she effortlessly drew out a breathless scream from her lips, messing up her vision into a haze. She eventually lost consciousness and feel weakly to the ground, her world from her sight darkening. After what seemed like a nightmare finally receded, she looked down daringly but there was a strange mark on her skin; it glowed beneath her skin, runes of that of a breathtaking power and beauty, at the same time pulsing in gold rhythms. “What did you do to me?” she gasped, voice barely a whisper. The Fae prince viewed her with a slanted head, his gaze a mix of pity and something darker. “I bound you.” “To what?!” His smile was bittersweet. “To me.” In an instant, the trees blurred and vanished around her, her legs unable to move, and into a sunkened darkness, the forest around her spunned until everything dissolved. When she had finally regained consciousness, the air has a fragnant rosy smell, she felt her skin brush up in-between silk sheets. The ceiling sparkling above her like a night sky, also like twinkling stars in a vast sea of darkness. She shot right up in bewilderment, wondering where she was. This wasn’t her room, and wasn't her world either. The room around her was glowing with crystals and deep obsidian,the atmosphere felt thick and oppressive, but rather a caressing warmth on her skin. There, at a slight distance was seated in an ethereal glow, the Fae prince— silent but looked mysterious. “What is this place?” she pressed on, her voice hoarse with shock. “My palace,” he replied, as it were the simplest truth at that point. “A realm broken off between your world and mine”. She studied him, the light revealing the true form beneath his cloak. While staring she noticed he looked less human than before—his features sharper, like they were carved with an artisan's accuracy from ice and shadow; and like the midnight flowed his dark hair brushing against the neck of his cloak. “I really didn’t mean to take that flower,” she appealed, her voice seeming desperate. “I only needed—” “You took more than a flower,” he interrupted sharply. “You awakened ancient magic— magic that binds!.” “But i don’t belong here!” she sprang up, throwing off the luxurious blanket that had cocooned her. “Send me back this minute!” He rose to his full height, power radiating from him like a violent storm. “You are not a prisoner, girl. But neither are you free. That mark means the bond has begun, and unless you wish to witness your village burn under Fae fire, you will stay… and obey our rules.” Under the weight of his words descending around her like an unbearable viel, she clumped her breath. “I don’t belong here,” Lyra repeated, but this time her voice almost betraying her from the conviction she had. Catching Lyra’s eyes with the faint silver chain which was wrapped around his right wrist, he stepped closer, gently pulsing was this string like chain which bewildered her understanding. The Fae Prince muttered, “Neither do I”’ his voice like a captivating echo with the room. Time driftily flowed but in strange ways— of course hours felt just like moments, days felt like lifetimes. Stunning in adorning silks that draped her skin, Lyra was led into a garden where the night never faded. While wandering through this enchanted garden, the Fae guards seemed to absorb her every move with their jewel-like eyes, whispers hushed behind her following her every pace. “That's the mortal girl.” “She really lived after she touched him”. “Could she be The One?” Drawn in by an insatiable curiosity of her situation, she stumbled into a library which brimmed with luminous tomes, she ran her fingers eagerly across their radiant crests. It felt like answers were calling to her, the questions multiplying within her— who was he? Why had she changes the course of something ancient? A voice spoke out from the shadows at that moment, as if it heard her invoiced please for answers. “No one has ever touched me and lived, and not in centuries” She turned to see Prince Kael’s frame leaning in the doorway, his presence ever commanding and ethereal yet. “You mean… physically?” Her heart rumbled in her chest, yearning for more details. He had to nod just once, and a faint but mysterious smile dangled on his lips. “Well the curse burns and has burnt all who attempt it. But you— I bled when you lashed out”. A chilling realization dawning on her, her breath caught up in her throat. “But what does that mean??”, Lyra fired Prince Kael in that moment took steps closer to her, reached out for the pulsing mark on her collarbone, doing this energy seeped and crackled beneath his fingertips, igniting a fire deep within Lyra that she has never known.