The scent of iron and death clung to the palace air like perfume.
Virellia's central hall—grand, cold, and carved in white marble—was stained with fresh blood. A man's body lay sprawled near the obsidian steps, his lifeless eyes wide open, a bullet wound smoking between his brows. Celestia Vire didn't blink. She sat on her crimson throne, legs crossed, one arm lazily draped over the lion-shaped armrest, as if she hadn't just executed someone for whispering her name wrong.
"Clean this mess," she said flatly, her voice coated in silk and venom.
Her guards jumped to obey. Not out of loyalty—no one in Virellia gave that freely—but out of raw, survival-driven fear. Everyone in the underworld knew: Celestia Vire didn't forgive. She erased.
As the body was dragged away, a gust of unnatural wind howled through the palace gates. Every candle flickered. The chandelier trembled. And then... the doors creaked open.
A boy stepped inside.
No. Not a boy. A force wrapped in a boy's skin.
He walked barefoot over the blood-streaked marble, black cloak fluttering like a raven's wing, silver hair tousled by a breeze that didn't touch anyone else. He looked 19, maybe 20, but his eyes were older—too deep, too knowing. Storm-grey. Like they'd watched worlds die and didn't regret it.
Celestia's fingers curled around the dagger at her thigh.
The boy bowed slightly, lips curling into something between a smirk and a dare.
"You're more beautiful than the fire in my visions," he said. "But colder than I imagined."
Her voice was like frost breaking glass.
"Who the hell are you?"
He stepped forward.
"I'm Kael Zephyr," he said. "And you, Celestia... are mine."
The room stilled.
Not even the air dared to move.
Celestia's smile was slow and deadly, the kind that made grown men beg for death. Her finger drifted down to the gold-plated gun resting beside her throne. She picked it up with the casual elegance of a goddess choosing which mortal to end.
"You just stepped into my court," she said, rising from her throne like a shadow come to life. "Spoke my name like it belonged to you. And claimed me like some street dog pissing on a wall."
Kael didn't flinch. His gaze tracked her like a predator studying another predator—half-lust, half-danger, all intensity.
"You're not a wall," he murmured. "You're the fire that consumes kingdoms. I've seen you before... in dreams that burned me alive."
Celestia tilted her head, amused now, intrigued despite herself. Most men either groveled or died quickly in her presence. But this one...
He wanted to burn.
A second later, the gun was in her hand—fast as breath.
She aimed it right between his eyes.
Click.
Empty.
Kael smirked.
"I enchanted the bullet," he said softly, like he was confessing a secret only lovers share. "It would've melted before it touched me."
The guards stepped in, weapons drawn. But Celestia raised a hand.
No. She wanted to handle this herself.
She stepped down from the throne slowly, like a queen descending into war. Her boots echoed across the marble as she circled him like a lioness.
"Magic tricks and pretty lies don't impress me, boy," she hissed, voice a whisper in his ear. "Tell me why you're really here... or I'll cut your tongue out and feed it to my hounds."
Kael didn't move. Didn't blink.
But his voice dropped—low, rough, dangerously intimate.
"Because you're cursed, Celestia. And I'm the only one who remembers the truth."
The moment the word "cursed" left Kael's mouth, something shifted in the air.
A ripple.
A pulse.
Like an ancient string plucked deep beneath the bones of the world.
Celestia froze.
Not visibly. Not to anyone else. But in that fraction of a heartbeat, something behind her eyes shuddered—a flicker of forgotten pain, of silver moons and crimson forests, of running through shadows on paws, not feet.
She masked it in an instant.
"Get him out of my sight," she snapped. "Throw him into the gutter where all lunatics belong."
The guards moved forward again.
But Kael raised his hand—and the torches lining the hall erupted in flame.
Not normal fire.
Foxfire.
It blazed gold and violet, dancing across the walls like hungry ghosts. The shadows came alive, whispering in a language no one had spoken for centuries.
The guards stumbled back. One dropped his sword, eyes wide with terror.
Even the air grew hotter—sweat forming on brows, breath shortening.
Kael's voice sliced through the chaos.
"You've felt it too, haven't you?"
His eyes locked onto hers. "The heat under your skin. The voice in your dreams. The sense that something inside you isn't... human."
Celestia clenched her fists.
"No one speaks to me like this and walks away breathing."
Kael stepped closer, into her space, past her blades and past her pride.
He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear.
"You weren't born in this world, Celestia. You were reborn."
Her nails dug into her palms.
And that's when it happened.
A spark.
Deep in her chest. A heartbeat that wasn't hers. A pulse that felt like... fur. Fangs. Fire.
A scream echoed in her head—a vixen's cry in the night.
She staggered.
Just for a second. But Kael saw it.
He smiled like a sinner who finally reached heaven.
Celestia shoved him back—not with her hands, but with sheer force of will. Her aura surged, dark and commanding, like a queen dragging the sun down with her bare hands.
Kael didn't resist. He let the energy crash into him, allowed himself to be thrown to the marble floor like a discarded toy.
But even on his knees, he smiled.
"There she is," he murmured, voice cracked open with wonder. "The fox... the queen... the curse. All burning under that skin."
Celestia was breathing harder now.
Not from exertion.
From rage. From confusion. From the ghostly heat crawling through her veins like a memory she didn't want.
She turned to her guards.
"Take him to the Velvet Cage."
The silence in the room thickened.
One of the guards—a bald, scarred brute named Vex—stiffened.
"Your Majesty, the Velvet Cage is for—"
"Do it."
Vex didn't argue again. He just nodded, grabbing Kael by the arm. But Kael's eyes never left her—not even for a second—as he was dragged away.
"You'll come to me," he said calmly, over his shoulder. "Soon. When the dreams return. When the fire inside you starts to scream."
Celestia didn't respond.
She just watched him vanish down the corridor.
And once the doors slammed shut, once she was finally alone...
She touched her chest.
Right over her heart.
It was hot.
Not metaphorically. Not emotionally.
Literally burning.
Like something inside her had been sleeping... and Kael Zephyr had just whispered it awake.