Page 13 of Her Fated Alpha Prince (Royal Dragons of Blackwater Islands #1)

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ARIANA

The sun rose in streaks of pale gold, glinting off the carved stone of the windows, but Ariana didn’t move. She sat at the edge of the bed, one hand curled loosely around the pendant, the other resting on her knee, fingers twitching like they were trying to remember something.

She hadn’t slept—not really. Not with her thoughts weaving themselves into knots. Not with the weight of the dream coiled behind her ribs like something waiting to hatch.

“Remember who you are.”

The words echoed through her, just as loud now as they’d been in the dream. She didn’t know who they belonged to, or why they made her skin crawl and her spine straighten all at once. But she couldn’t shake them.

She padded barefoot to the water basin and splashed her face. The cold helped. A little. She looked up into the mirror and saw herself—and something else. Not in the reflection, exactly, but in the tilt of her chin. The sharpness behind her eyes. She looked… less lost.

She dressed quickly, choosing one of the simpler tunics Seryna’s attendants had laid out. It didn’t matter how fine the fabric was—she still felt like an imposter. Except now the doubt wasn’t about who she wasn’t . It was about who she might actually be.

The corridor outside her door was quiet, which was unusual. There were always servants here—at least one, hovering like a ghost at the edge of her vision. Today, the silence felt deliberate.

She didn’t like it.

Ariana made her way to the Moonwell Garden, the place that had both terrified and mesmerized her the night before. The light was different now. Morning sun filtered through the leaves, and the flowers still looked too alive. They turned slightly as she passed, petals quivering, as if breathing.

She swallowed hard and stepped into the grass. Her bare feet touched the ground—and the earth beneath pulsed once, faint but undeniable.

She froze.

It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t even unpleasant. It felt like recognition.

“Okay,” she whispered. “You’re real. Fine. What do you want from me?”

The garden didn’t answer. But something stirred. A breeze that didn’t match the air around her. The scent of ozone. The faintest crackle of static on her skin.

And then—like a flicker of thought too quick to catch—a whisper passed through her mind: We’ve been waiting.

She stumbled back, heart slamming against her ribs. “Nope. Nope, no thank you.”

Leaves rustled in reply. Not in the wind. In… amusement?

She turned sharply—and froze.

Seryna stood at the edge of the path, dressed in silver-gray robes that caught the light like fish scales. Her expression was mild. Too mild.

“You’re up early,” Seryna said. “And talking to plants.”

Ariana straightened. “They started it.”

Seryna’s lips twitched. “Of course, they did.”

Seryna stepped closer, her movements smooth as silk and just as unreadable. She studied Ariana the way one might study a puzzle with a missing piece—curious, not unkind, but not entirely safe, either.

“You look pale,” she said softly. “Dreams again?”

Ariana hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. But… not nightmares. More like—” She faltered. How did you describe the feeling of being cracked open and filled with someone else’s fire?

“Prophecy?” Seryna offered, tone neutral.

Ariana’s stomach twisted. “Is that what this is?”

Seryna didn’t answer right away. She walked a slow circle around Ariana, trailing her fingers through the low-hanging branches of a silverleaf tree. “Prophecy isn’t always a matter of reading the future. Sometimes, it’s about remembering the past. What you are. Where you come from.”

“I know where I come from,” Ariana said, sharper than she meant to.

Seryna paused. “Do you?” she asked, her voice almost kind.

The question settled in Ariana’s chest like a weight. Did she? New York felt further away than it ever had. Her apartment. Her job. Her over-priced gym and boxed salads. It all seemed like another girl’s life. She didn’t miss it at all/

“You’re changing,” Seryna said. “The question is—into what?”

Ariana didn’t respond. Because she didn’t know. Because saying it out loud might make it real. Instead, she looked at the garden, at the strange flowers bowing toward her like she was their queen or their prey.

“Why me?” she asked. “Why not someone who actually knows what the hell they’re doing?”

Seryna gave her a long look. “Because the land chose you. The Well chose you. And something about Kael’s blood did too.”

Ariana blinked. “Kael?”

“You drank from the moonwell after he did. His essence would still have been in the water. The bond formed then, whether you realized it or not.”

Ariana felt her breath catch. “Bond?”

“Oh, yes,” Seryna said, walking past her. “Why do you think he’s been so restless? He feels it too. Maybe more than you do.”

Heat flared up Ariana’s neck, but she ignored it. “This… this wasn’t part of the deal. I didn’t ask for any of it.”

Seryna looked back over her shoulder. “No. But you survived the moonwell. You didn’t just survive—you thrived. That means something. To the council. To the old magic. And to him.”

“Him,” Ariana muttered, half a curse.

Seryna’s smile was unreadable. “Kael doesn’t like surprises. You, unfortunately for him, are a very big one.”

Before Ariana could respond, a bell rang faintly through the trees—high, melodic, urgent.

Seryna stilled. “That’s the outer ward bell. Something’s wrong.”

The bell’s echo rippled through the garden, stirring the leaves into restless whispers. Ariana’s heart quickened—not from fear, but from a raw, electric anticipation she couldn’t shake.

Seryna’s gaze sharpened. “The outer ward bell doesn’t ring for nothing. Trouble has found its way here.”

“Trouble?” Ariana’s voice barely rose above a whisper. The garden felt suddenly colder, the night shadows longer.

Seryna stepped toward the archway leading to the stone pathway that wound beyond the garden. “Come. We need to see what’s coming.”

Ariana followed, her bare feet brushing softly over the mossy ground. Each step was heavy with the weight of unknown futures pressing against her chest.

As they reached the pathway’s edge, shapes emerged from the darkness—figures moving quickly, voices low but urgent. Lantern light flickered against sharp edges of metal and armor.

“Guard patrol,” Seryna murmured. “They wouldn’t be here unless there’s cause for alarm.”

Ariana’s eyes darted to the leader—a tall man with iron-gray hair and a scar running down his cheek. His expression was grim, eyes scanning the night like a hawk tracking prey.

“What’s happened?” Seryna asked.

The guard’s voice was clipped. “We spotted a shadow moving near the southern gate. Something unnatural. It fled before we could approach.”

Ariana’s breath caught. The word “unnatural” hit her like a cold wave.

Seryna’s jaw tightened. “Could it be one of the Watchers? The council’s spies?”

“Maybe,” the guard said, “but it didn’t match any description we have. It was faster. More… fluid. Like it slipped between worlds.”

Ariana swallowed hard. The dream. The flowers. The flickering flame. Was this connected?

“Is the council aware?” she asked, trying to steady her voice.

The guard nodded. “Messengers have been sent. We expect reinforcements by dawn.”

Seryna turned back to Ariana, eyes glinting in the lantern light. “You’re caught in the middle of something bigger than either of us imagined.”

Ariana’s pulse hammered in her ears. “What do I do?”

Seryna placed a steady hand on her shoulder. “For now, you stay hidden. Gather your strength. The changes within you will guide what comes next.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Seryna’s tone left no room for argument. “The night is far from over, and the true threat has yet to reveal itself.”

Ariana nodded, though the knot of unease in her gut only tightened.

As the guards melted back into the shadows, the garden seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

Ariana looked once more at the glowing flowers, their colors richer and more alive in the moonlight.

She was no longer just a visitor in this strange new world. She was part of it—woven into its ancient magic and its deadly secrets.

And with Kael’s shadow lingering at the edge of her thoughts, she knew she couldn’t turn away.

The night was coming alive—and so was she.