Page 1 of Dreams of Ash and Smoke

Prologue

“Do it!” The man’s voice bellows at his wife gesturing to their 2-year-old child. “Her pure white hair is a blessing from the Gods and you want me to defile it?” Vaia Nightcrest seethes, her fists clenched so tight that her nails draw blood. She stares daggers at her husband, fueled by a mix of anger and fierce protectiveness toward their precious baby girl. The mere thought of changing anything about her sends chills down Vaia’s spine, and she can feel her heart pounding with rage and fear.

“I don’t give a damn about the Gods and their so-called gifts. This is a curse, and it will bring nothing but death upon us all!” His voice booms with rage as he turns to face his wife, his eyes ablaze with fury and fear. With a forceful hand, he thrusts the bottle of black ink into her chest. “Do it now, before it’s too late.” His tone brooks no argument, commanding obedience through sheer force of will.

Vaia recoils from the force of her husband’s words, her heart pounding in her chest like a wild drum. His eyes, once filled with love and warmth, now burn with a fearsome intensity that she had never seen before. But she refuses to back down, her love for her daughter and her resolve, stronger than ever, fueling her determination to protect her at all costs.

Taking a deep breath, she looks into her husband’s eyes, trying to see the man she had once fallen in love with. He trembles now, his voice hoarse with fear and desperation. She knew that if she didn’t do this, he will. And he won’t be nearly as gentle as she is.

Slowly, Vaia reaches out and takes the bottle of black ink, her fingers trembling slightly as she clasps it in her hand. She glances down at her daughter.

Tears stream down her face, carving tracks through the dirt and grime that coats her cheeks. With trembling hands, she drags her child to the table and forces herto sit, her eyes locked into a deadly stare with her husband. “You are the reason we are in this hellhole. Khyrel was paradise compared to this nightmare,” she hisses, her voice thick with anger and despair. How did their perfect life spiral into this pit of misery? Their daughter had been promised to the prince, an unbreakable bond between their families. But everything changed in an instant, leaving them trapped in a world where they must hide their true selves from those who would condemn them. A world where their daughter’s future is nothing but lies and deception. It shatters her heart to see her child forced to live a lie, a prisoner of false love and shattered dreams.

But as Vaia dips her gloved fingers into the black ink, a fierce determination settles over her. She will not let her daughter’s fate be decided by fear and manipulation. With a steady hand, she begins to paint intricate patterns on her daughter’s pure white hair, every strand a defiance against the darkness that threatened to consume them all. The room falls into a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of the brush against her daughter’s hair. Each stroke of ink a whisper of rebellion, a silent cry for freedom in a world that sought to crush them.

The black ink weaves through the strands of their daughter’s hair like dark magic, but Vaia infuses every caress with love and protection. She refuses to let their daughter’s light be extinguished, even in the face of overwhelming darkness.

The white haired baby with the dark blue streak running through it reaches up, clawing at her mother’s tear-stained face with tiny fingers. The toddlers cries fill the room as her mother sobs uncontrollably.

“We have a better deal now. You heard the prophecy, Vaia. She will be safer here. I did this for the two of you. For our family.” He tries to reason with her, but she pushes him away violently, her fingers smearing ink over his chest, her eyes full of a wild desperation. In a moment of madness, she snatches their child further from him and holds her close, rocking back and forth in a frantic attempt to protect them both from the danger that looms ahead as she finished her daughters hair.

“You did this for yourself. For the greed that runs through your veins. I hoped you’d be happy with her life. That the greed was momentary when we met. But I was wrong and now we’ll both be unhappy.” She snaps at him. “I will raise our daughter here, against my will, and I will try to give her a great childhood. But, make no mistake, Arzhel.” Her eyes burned from anger, tired of crying over hertarnished marriage. “I will never forgive you if we do not get to see her grow into a beautiful person. I will rip you apart piece by disappointing piece until there is nothing left but unsatisfied greed and hunger for more. I will pray to every God, every Goddess, every celestial being and magical element that you rot and burn in the Underworld and that they show you no mercy.” She seethes, her eyes glowing the bright purple she’s hidden.

Pure, unbridled terror shines in his eyes as he stumbles backward and scrambles out of the room, leaving her alone to cry. Vaia sobs silently as she stains her baby’s soft hair, a stark contrast to the dark blue streak that remains untouched by the black dye that has consumed the rest of her locks. Little did they know, this one small detail would be the catalyst for a catastrophic turn of events that would shatter her entire world.

Chapter 1: Pinkberry Clouds

Verena

1 Week until Dryston’s Coronation

Hues of violet, indigo, and cyan fill the dark night sky, as they usually do in my dreams. The movable paint-like structure reminding me of my own indigo eyes as I stand on the balcony. I had only ever seen them far away, an almost microscopic flash of color for the briefest moment as the sun descended from the sky and the moon came out to play.

A hand grasps my shoulder to turn me and I gasp, noting the familiar faint black marking on the hand just before I jolt from my slumber to find myself alone— as I have been for the torturous decade of this haunting dream.

The bright ball of light filters in through the glass windows, allowing me to see the familiar room. The same bed I’ve had since I was a young girl rests on the concrete floor underneath me, a chaise lounge at the foot of the bed holding a dress I was to wear today. The light-stained, scuffed vanity rests just a few steps to the right of me, outside the doorway to the bathroom holding a toilet, tub, and sink. It wasn’t extravagant, but it’s nice.

My beloved fae kingdom, Zorya, thrives in the daytime. She is the beautiful country I will rule someday soon alongside the heir to the throne, Dryston Whitewell. His family has been ruling this country for centuries.The former king, Tarius Whitewell– Dryston’s father– was murdered a month ago. And after a grieving period for the land and castle, Dryston’s coronation will be held one week from now with our wedding and then my own coronation following shortly after.

Prince Dryston and I have been in a courtship since we were of age, but our history dates back to our childhood. We were betrothed as toddlers, and everyone has been eagerly anticipating this moment.

There is a soft knock on the door, and before I can give permission to enter, a maid appears in front of me. I do a double take, surprised by her sudden presence. “His Majesty has requested my services to prepare you for today’s celebrations.” She says in a meek and timid voice, resembling that of a mouse. Her gaze never meets mine as she speaks.

It’s common knowledge that kings often had mistresses, so it came as no surprise to me. Just as I was expected to become queen, he was anticipated to have a few affairs in his lifetime. And knowing Dryston’s reputation as a ladies’ man, I can tell by the way she avoids eye contact with me that he had already caught her attention.

“No problem, Mya.” She had become my ladysmaid a couple years ago after mine had passed away from a poison I assume was meant for me. As the maid busies herself with arranging my hair and adjusting my gown, I can’t shake off the unease settling in the pit of my stomach. The weight of expectations and obligations pressing down on me, threatening to suffocate the remnants of the carefree girl I once was.

I steal a glance at the maid, her hands deftly working on my elaborate hairstyle, and can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. She was just a pawn in this grand game of alliances and power, caught in the intricate web of court politics.

But as her fingers brush against my skin, a sudden chill ran down my spine, and I realize that there was more to her presence than she let on. Her eyes, though downcast, hold a glint of something not quite servile—a flicker of defiance that hints at hidden depths beneath her demure facade. Even while she helps me get ready for the day, dressing me in a bright yellow-green gown, to match our Aurora Australis, I can’t help the thoughts of theopposite.

* * *

The expectations for the upcoming events was palpable as whispers and excitement courses through the kingdom. In just a couple of days, the Royal Brunch will kick off the festivities in honor of Dryston’s rule. The grand dining hall had been meticulously prepared, decorated with lavish displays of flowers and draped in rich fabrics. Mouthwatering aromas waft from the kitchen as chefs bustle about, crafting a feast fit for royalty. Everyone could sense that this will be a celebration unlike any other, marking a new era for their kingdom.

The day before the Coronation, a grand celebration known as the Royal Gala will take place. This highly anticipated event promises to be a dazzling display of dancing, music, and elegance. It’s sure to be the talk of the century.

The following day marks the long-awaited Coronation, where our beloved prince will finally be crowned as ruler. And after that, there will also be a knighting ceremony where Dryston would carefully select his personal guards from among the bravest and most honorable knights in the realm. The air is thick with anticipation as everyone eagerly awaits these momentous occasions that will shape the future of the kingdom.

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