A Crown of Storm and Starlight

Prologue

The storm came for the Crimson Citadel on the night Lysara's world ended.

One moment, she was spinning barefoot across the throne room tiles, her mother's lullaby weaving through the air—"One star bright, one star lost..."—the next, the stained-glass windows exploded inward. Shards of red and gold rained down as black lightning split the sky.

Her brother died laughing.

A jagged bolt took him mid-breath, searing his smile into something grotesque. Lysara's scream lodged in her throat as her mother shoved her toward the storm vault, the hidden compartment beneath the dais.

"Don't look," her mother begged, fingers trembling against Lysara's cheeks. "Don't make a sound."

But children always look.

Through the slats, Lysara watched the world unravel.

Watched as the great iron doors melted like candle wax.

Watched as her father's guards burst apart like overripe fruit, their armor ringing against the tiles.

Watched as he strode through the carnage—the Warlord Kael, his hands wreathed in the same black lightning that had shattered her sky.

Her father fell to his knees.

"Take the throne," King Varys gasped, blood bubbling at his lips. "Just spare her—"

The sword fell.

Lysara's magic erupted.

Silver light tore from her palms, scorching her skin, cracking the vault door. The last thing she saw before the world went white was her mother's body hitting the floor—and the girl who stepped over it.

A girl with her face.

"Hello, sister."

Nyxara's smile was a blade.

Black starlight dripped from her fingers, the inverse of Lysara's own power. Behind her, Kael roared, but Nyxara barely flicked her wrist. A whip of darkness sent him crashing into the wall.

"He doesn't know," Nyxara mused, crouching to peer into the vault. "All these years, and the mighty Warlord never guessed the king had two daughters."

The citadel groaned, chains snapping as the storm raged louder. Lysara scrambled back, but Nyxara only laughed.

"Run, little star," she whispered, as the walls began to crumble. "I'll be waiting when you're strong enough to die for me."

Something grabbed Lysara—a hand, an arm, the scent of iron and ozone. She sank her teeth into flesh, tasted blood, heard a voice that wasn't a voice at all:

Sleep, Starlight.

Then—

Darkness.