Alon

In the house of Valemont, blood is everything.

Serophina Noelle bears the family name, wears their colors, walks their gilded halls. Yet behind every silken hem and strained smile lies a truth no one will say aloud: she doesn't look like them.

Her skin is too warm. Her eyes too storm-dark. Her presence-too quiet to be questioned, too unsettling to be ignored.

Raised among the cold and powerful, Serophina is a portrait that doesn't quite fit the frame. And though no one speaks of it, the past waits-buried beneath the marble, whispering behind the glass.

Not all heirs are born.

Some seem to have emerged from storms-shaped by secrecy and the silent weight of a society that fears what it cannot control.