Prolouge: The Songstress and the Flame
Prologue: The Songstress and the Flame
The first thing Jessica Valir remembered of her second life was pain—the echo of it, like a song trapped in the ribs of a broken harp. Then light. And her uncle’s eyes.
The Council Hall of Chimaera stood bathed in golden firelight, high stone arches etched with the sigils of dragons and wolves, their ancient pact older than the clans that squabbled beneath them. She had stood here before, once. She’d worn the same silk dress, pale silver, threaded with symbols of her bloodline. Then, she’d thought herself honored. Today, she wore it like armor.
Her uncle, Alpha Thorne of the Chimaera, met her gaze from across the hall. His silver eyes were stricken, grief-struck. He remembered too. He remembered pulling her trembling body from the blood-soaked bed. He remembered wrapping her in his own cloak, shielding her as if she were the most fragile relic of their line. He remembered her lifeless eyes when her soul had slipped free.
And the Goddess—oh, the Goddess—had not let her rest.
Jessica stood with her hands folded, serene though her pulse beat like war drums in her chest. Her gaze moved across the room, sweeping over nobility and warriors, betas and battle-scarred alphas—none of whom had ever seen her, really seen her. Not the way the Goddess had.
Not the way death had. Her brother, tall and smug beside their father, barely glanced at her. He likely believed her silence meant submission. He always had.
And Sarah… sweet-faced Sarah… stood in the shadows behind Prince Apollo, her expression twisted with guilt she hadn’t yet confessed. She had bathed her betrayal in honey and called it kindness. Jessica had drunk deeply, blind.
Now she saw everything.
The room fell quiet as the High Seer stepped forward, her robes shimmering with divine thread. “Today,” the Seer intoned, “marks the union of the Valir and Solari clans. May the Goddess bless this alliance—”
“I will not accept this arrangement,” Jessica said softly.
The chamber stilled.
Even the torches seemed to falter.
Jessica lifted her chin. “Father.”
Alpha Ren Valir turned, his brow darkening. “You dare speak during the Seer’s rite?”
“I speak,” Jessica said gently, “because to proceed would be an insult to the Goddess Herself.” Gasps rippled like wind through trees.
Her voice didn’t shake. Not once. “It is clear His Highness has found his mate—one chosen by the stars, not politics. It would be sacrilege to bind him to another.” Prince Apollo blinked, startled, his eyes shifting to Sarah instinctively. The pulse of mating magic was there, raw and obvious. His hand lifted as if on its own, fingers brushing Sarah’s wrist. She flinched, but did not pull away. Jessica offered a small, almost fond smile. “Her name is Sarah, Prince Apollo.”
He stared. “That’s her name… Sarah?”
Jessica nodded. “Yes. May the Goddess bless you… or curse you… as the Fates intend.”
No one spoke. Not her father, not the Seer. Even the Prince remained mute, the weight of fate coiling around his throat like smoke.
But Jessica’s words had been sacred—a ritual granting of freedom, an invocation of divine will. None dared defy it.
Her father looked like he might strike her. But Alpha Thorne stepped forward, just one step, his presence a silent snarl. A reminder of whose blood she carried.
Jessica bowed her head slightly toward him.
Only he knew the cost of this grace. Only he had seen her die.
Jessica Valir had always been overlooked.
She’d been curvy but short, strong but padded, muscle hidden beneath softness as armor. The boys in her Clan had mocked her. Her brother had sneered with pride. Even the elders dismissed her as docile, sweet, quiet—unthreatening.
A Songstress. A dancer. Not a warrior.
They hadn’t seen the iron in her bones.
They hadn’t heard the storm she was becoming.
She had thought Sarah was her friend, the only one who saw past the veil. But Sarah had seen plenty—just not Jessica. She’d seen an obstacle. A pawn. A girl who wouldn’t fight back.
And Sarah had been right. Back then.
The tea had been bitter, but Jessica drank it. She hadn’t known it was laced with venomous root and obedience powder. She hadn’t known she would wake to the sharp pain of violation, her cries swallowed by drunken laughter. She hadn’t known her betrothed would be watching in the shadows, a Prince of ice, eyes glowing with cruelty and shame.
But she knew now.
And she remembered dying.
The warmth of her uncle’s hands on her bloodied face, trembling. “I am so sorry,” he had whispered, holding her close as her breath stilled. “May the Goddess watch over you, as she once did for me…”
And the world had gone dark.
Then… light.
And now… this.
After the Council dissolved, after whispers slithered through every hall, Jessica found herself alone on the palace balcony. The stars were clearer here, unburdened by lies. She stared up at them, wondering which one had brought her back.
“I thought you’d vanished.” Her uncle’s voice was quiet.
“I did,” she answered. He stepped beside her. The moonlight caught the silver in his hair. He didn’t ask how much she remembered. He didn’t need to.
“You called upon the Goddess,” he said at last. “They will whisper of it for years.”
Jessica tilted her head. “Let them whisper.”
Thorne’s expression softened. “You carry yourself like an Alpha now.”
“I died like a girl,” Jessica replied, voice low. “But I was reborn with the fire of our ancestors. That blood will answer me now. As it once did you.”
Her uncle bowed his head in reverence. “You are more than they ever saw.”
“I know.” She turned to look at him fully, her voice still gentle. “But I don’t want revenge. Not yet.”
His brows rose. “Then what do you want?”
Jessica smiled. “I want justice. True justice. And I want to become Luna. Not just in title… but in soul. Goddess as my witness I will find my true mate and be happy, loved, and wanted. A Luna worth following.”
Her uncle stared at her for a long moment. Then nodded.
“Then let the world beware,” he said. “For the Songstress has found her voice.”
And somewhere in the heavens, the Goddess watched… and listened.