CHAPTER - I : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒

In a world of spirits, wars, and things that should never have existed, an empire once stood so radiant it was mistaken for heaven.

It was called the Crysalith Empire.

Six hundred and twenty-one years ago, at the heart of the most radiant empire the continent had ever known, snow fell without end.

The Crysalith Empire was a kingdom sculpted from winter itself. Crystal palaces shimmered beneath drifting white skies, and silver forests whispered with ancient elven magic. It was said that no storm in the world dared touch the empire without permission from its rulers.

At its throne stood Emperor Harald of Eldoria — a High Elf crowned too young and burdened too early.
Beside him stood Empress Crystalia — the Snow Spirit incarnate.

Not a priestess.
Not a sorceress.

A spirit.

Winter answered to her breath. Frost bloomed at her fingertips. When she smiled, snowfall softened. When she wept, blizzards howled.

Their marriage was love.
And for a time, love was enough.

•𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐙𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍

To secure the future, they performed an ancient ritual beneath the Frozen Moon — a celestial event that occurred once every century.

The priests warned them. Two divine lineages intertwining could birth a miracle. Or something the world had never seen before.

Still, they chose hope. And hope answered. A daughter was born.

Her name was Schnee.
The moment her eyes opened—

The sky darkened. Snow turned gray The empire’s sacred frost tree split down its trunk. The high priests fell to their knees. One word escaped trembling lips.

“Cursed.”

•𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐖 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖

Among Snow Spirits, there was a truth rarely spoken: There can never be two Snow Princesses. When a new vessel is born, the former must return to frost.

The lineage does not divide.

It replaces.

The moment Princess Schnee drew her first breath—
Empress Crystalia took her last.

It was not violence.
It was inheritance.

•𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅

Harald held his wife’s lifeless body for hours. When he finally looked at the infant nearby, his chest tightened.

She had Crystalia’s eyes.
But when he looked at her, he did not see his beloved wife. He saw the night the sky turned red. The priests approached cautiously.

“She carries something beyond snow.”

“The Snow Spirit perished at her birth.”

“She is the beginning of ruin.”

Harald knew the law. But understanding does not erase grief. And grief, when left alone long enough, rots into anger.

From that day forward, he never called her daughter.

Only—

“Curse.”


Feedback for my dark fantasy opening chapter [dark fantasy~480+]