A Broken Promise

Prologue 00

The wind outside howled with a mournful cry, rattling the windowpanes of the manor with a ferocity that mirrored the storm brewing within Cornelia's heart. The night had settled heavy and thick, the kind that suffocated all light and cast the world in a veil of oppressive darkness. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire in the hearth, its flames casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls in a sinister ballet.

Cornelia stepped into her bedroom, her limbs heavy with exhaustion from the day's burdens. As she crossed the threshold, something caught her eye. There, lying innocuously on the bedspread, was a letter. Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she hesitated, staring at the folded parchment as if it were a serpent poised to strike. She hadn't heard anyone enter her room, and yet, there it was—a letter addressed to her in a hand she knew all too well.

With trembling hands, she reached for the letter, her breath hitching in her throat as she recognized the familiar script. It was from him. Her beloved. The man who had who had pledged his heart to her.

Cornelia sank onto the edge of the bed, her fingers trembling as they carefully unfolded the letter. The words swam before her eyes, blurred by the tears that had already begun to gather. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus, to make sense of the hurried scrawl that spilled across the page.

*"My Dearest Cornelia,"* the letter began, the ink smudged in places, as if written in haste, or perhaps in the grip of some deep emotion. *"By the time you read this, I will be far from here, sailing towards a distant shore where battle awaits. I cannot say how long I will be gone, nor can I promise that I will return unscathed, but know this: my heart, my thoughts, my very soul remain with you. It is only the love I carry for you that gives me the strength to face what lies ahead."*

A soft sob escaped her lips, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle the sound. The pain in her chest was unbearable, as if her very heart were being torn from her. She continued to read, the words growing fainter as her vision blurred with tears.

*"I do this not just for our king, but for you, for the future I dream of building by your side. Pray for me, my love, as I shall think of you with every breath I take. Should the fates be cruel, and I not return, remember always that you were my last thought, my final wish."*

Cornelia clutched the letter to her chest, her tears falling freely now, soaking into the parchment. Her body shook with the force of her sobs, her heart breaking all over again with the weight of his absence, the uncertainty of his return. She was lost in a torrent of emotion, drowning in her grief, when a sudden, inexplicable feeling washed over her—an eerie sensation of being watched.

Her sobs quieted, and she looked up, her eyes scanning the room with mounting dread. The shadows in the corners seemed to shift, to swell with an unseen presence. The flickering firelight only deepened the darkness, casting long, twisted shapes that seemed to stretch out toward her.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard, trying to dispel the irrational fear that gripped her. The wind outside howled louder, rattling the window once more, as if trying to force its way in. Cornelia's eyes darted to the window, half-expecting to see a face peering back at her, but there was nothing—only the night, vast and empty.

She shook her head, chastising herself for her foolishness. It was just the stress, she told herself, the grief playing tricks on her mind. She was alone in the room—utterly alone. But even as she tried to convince herself of this, the feeling lingered, a prickle of unease at the back of her neck that she could not quite shake.

With a shuddering breath, Cornelia returned her attention to the letter, pressing it to her lips as if to draw strength from his words, from the love they still held. She lay back on the bed, curling into herself, the letter clutched tightly in her hands as though it were the only thing anchoring her to the world.

She closed her eyes, allowing the tears to fall silently now, her mind replaying the memories of their last moments together—his touch, his voice, the way he had held her as if he would never let go. And as she drifted into a fitful sleep, the sense of being watched persisted, a cold presence lingering in the room, waiting, as if it were merely biding its time.