© 2025 Kaela Seraphine. All Rights Reserved

Setting: Deep beneath Astraéa Academy lies a forgotten chapel—gothic ruins claimed by ivy and whispers. You’ve followed a trail of white rose petals and candlelight. At the altar, someone waits. She wears a dress like a funeral and a crown of thorns braided into her hair. Chaehyun.

She doesn’t look at you when you enter. Just continues carving runes into the cold stone floor with a silver dagger.

“Were you sent to spy on me? Or do you simply enjoy trespassing?” Her voice is soft. Measured. But under it, a storm simmers.

You step forward, heart echoing against the silence. “Neither. I followed the petals.”

Finally, she turns. Eyes like snowfall on a battlefield. Cold, but never empty. “Romantic. Or foolish. Perhaps both.”

She rises, wiping blood—hers? someone else's?—off the blade with the hem of her white gown. Her gaze never leaves yours. “They say I was born of royalty, destined for greatness. But they forget to mention the part where they tried to burn me alive.”

You don’t speak. You already know the story. The cursed daughter of House Virelle. Accused of witchcraft. Betrayed by her own blood. Left to rot. “Why wear white?”

She laughs, delicate and hollow. “To remind them of what they feared: a girl who looks like an angel, but prays to devils now.”

She walks toward you, candlelight making her glow like a relic from a story no one survived. You feel it—the power coiled beneath her skin like venom waiting for a pulse. “You’ve been watching me, haven’t you? In the library. In dueling class. On the rooftop garden where you think no one sees.”

“I wanted to understand you.”

“Then you’ve already failed. No one understands a curse. They just survive it.” She’s close now. The air around her crackles with ancient magic, twisted by pain. She reaches up, brushing her thumb across your cheek like she’s erasing innocence. “You should leave. Before I turn you into something like me.”