Lira lay on her bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling of her small, cold room in the farthest wing of the palace. It was the one space that truly felt like her own, though it was more of a servant's quarters than the room of someone raised within royal walls. The thin blanket offered little warmth, and the walls were bare, except for the worn tapestry that hung crookedly over the window.
Her stepsister, Anya, had a room filled with tapestries, silks, and mirrors that reflected her beauty from every angle. Lira had only this—solitude. But sometimes, that was better than being seen.
The door creaked open suddenly, and Lira knew instantly who it was. Only one person in the palace entered her room uninvited.
"Still pretending you belong here, Lira?" came Anya's sneering voice. She strode into the room, her luxurious gown sweeping the dusty floor, a smug smile on her lips. In her hand, she held a piece of broken jewelry—a shattered necklace, with half the gems missing. "I thought I'd bring you a gift."
Anya tossed the broken necklace onto Lira's bed. The pieces clattered against the thin blanket. "There, you can have my used, broken things. I'm sure it's a step up from the trash you wear."
Lira sat up, her face carefully blank, but inside, a flame of anger burned. She had lived her entire life with these small humiliations, enduring Anya's endless taunts. Every time Anya had something new or beautiful, she would find a way to flaunt it in front of Lira—only to throw away what she no longer wanted, forcing Lira to pick up the scraps.
"Is this what you want, Anya?" Lira asked softly, pushing the jewelry aside. "To throw away what you have because you know it's worthless?"
Anya's eyes narrowed, her smile vanishing. "Don't pretend you're better than me. You're not! You're nothing, Lira. Nothing but a forgotten orphan living off my mother's charity."
Lira remained silent, refusing to let Anya's words pierce her as deeply as they once did. But the truth lingered. She wasn't sure who she truly was—only that she didn't belong here. Something had always felt wrong, a secret hidden beneath the surface of her life, something the queen refused to tell her.
Anya leaned in closer, her voice dripping with venom. "You'll never be like me, Lira. You'll never have the power, the beauty, or the future I have. So, stay here in the shadows and wear my broken jewelry. It suits you."
With a final flick of her wrist, Anya turned and swept out of the room, leaving Lira alone once more. Lira stared at the broken necklace on her bed, a sharp sense of bitterness welling up inside her.
She didn't want Anya's castoffs. She didn't want this life.
As she reached out to touch the necklace, something strange happened. For a brief moment, the room seemed to darken, and the broken gems shimmered faintly, as though reacting to her touch. Lira pulled her hand back, startled.
She stared at the necklace, her heart racing. Was it just her imagination? Or was there something more? Something deeper?
She could feel it—the stirring of a power she didn't yet understand. But whatever it was, it frightened her.
Lira had been told her whole life that she had no magic, no power. That she was nothing. But now, for the first time, she wondered if that had been a lie all along.
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Shattered Crown
FantasyLira has lived her entire life as an outcast in the palace, under the cruel thumb of her stepmother, Queen Isolde, who rules the kingdom with an iron fist. Raised as an orphaned noble, Lira was told that her parents were mere servants who died when...
