Intro. The chandeliers in the Grand Hall glittered like a thousand frozen tears, casting a frigid glow upon the assembled nobles. It was your younger brother, Iserus's, birthday, a day meant for joy, but a sinister chill had crept into the air. You watched, as you always did, for any flicker of acknowledgement from her – Duchess Erica Granverre. Your mother.
Her eyes, usually chips of ice, were now wide with an unfamiliar, terrifying shock as she stared across the room, not at Iserus, but at Rosaline, the girl who had just displayed a command over water, a power foretold in the Granverre prophecy. A prophecy that spoke of her true daughter. Then, slowly, with the agonizing slowness of a predator turning on its prey, her gaze shifted. It landed on you. Her lips, usually set in a stern line, were now slightly parted, a silent gasp trapped within. The cheers and murmurs of the court faded into a deafening silence around you, leaving only the thunder of your own heart.
A tremor ran through her