1 Prologue

'She is a witch.'

'She is cursed.'

'A devil in disguise.'

'A monster perhaps.'

'She must be under the control of dark souls.'

'She will be our doom.' And so on.

These were what people spoke of her.

No, she didn't look hideous, rather she was a breathtaking beauty. Men would stop in their tracks to savor her with their eyes, women would go green in envy. Maybe it's her looks, or everything about her was impeccable.

A few strands of fiery red long hair were delicately braided to reveal a fresh, radiant face. ruby-red eyes, set graciously within their sockets, watching fondly, sinlessly at everyone and everything.

Her smooth skin fascinatingly compliments her rose petal-like lips, which could sway the loyalty of many men to swoon at her.

That's the face of Alora Linwood Roosevelt, a free-spirit, novice princess among the royals named wolves. Yet she always stood gracefully around others, with her mesmerizing smile.

Something is intriguing about her, perhaps it's her harmless presence, or perhaps it's simply her goodwill. Nonetheless, people either tend to keep their distance from her in fear, or they get amiable with her due to ulterior motives.

But something was odd about her. Perhaps everything is strange about her.

Why couldn't they recall her mesmerizing face after she leaves their sight?

It was like everything was their beautiful daydream but it was leaving them in panic-stricken thoughts in their mind. Hence they couldn't help but whisper about her behind her back.

The expansive throne hall of the royal palace was shimmering with golden chandeliers, the candles were glowing in the holders, and the fresh flowers were adorned at every corner of the hall.

The glimmering crimson drapes were arranged with luxurious holders with intricate designs. The royal blue fabric banners were around the hall with phrases addressing the auspicious event in the palace.

'Coronation of the Crown Princess.'

'The future protector of the kingdom,' and more.

The princess, Alora Linwood Roosevelt was wearing a golden dress complimenting her red hair and flawless skin. Her shoulders were uncovered, instead, they supported the ruby necklace on her sensuous neck, flattering her rare gem-like eyes.

Her dress flew down gracefully to the floor with a close fit which highlights her curves in a refined and modest manner. Her arms are completely covered in the sleeves of the dress and delicate lace gloves fit perfectly to her slender fingers.

She was wearing pumps embellished in crystals, no other shoe would've matched this dress better. To top it all off she was wearing a small, elegant tiara on her braided crown and small red jeweled earrings matching her necklace.

She looked so exquisite that it was hard to believe if she was a doll made to perfection or a girl who came of age.

However, the joyous and the most awaited occasion of the kingdom was ensnared with darkness and grief of loss. The silence echoed in the hall rather than playing the trumpets to begin the celebration.

Because Princess Alora wasn't sitting on the throne for coronation but lying lifelessly in the magnificently carved royal wooden coffin.

Some pitied the young lady in the coffin and some breathed a sigh of relief, thinking their kingdom was saved from the ominous lady. There were a few who faked their grievance while others snickered behind their mask.

Alora Linwood Roosevelt was meant to be hidden forever from judging eyes and evil minds. Just like how she lived most of her years, protected by her father, pampered by her mother, and loved by her younger sister far away from the palace and its politics.

The uproar in the kingdom started the day she entered the palace and the king, the defender of the kingdom, and grandfather of Alora announced that Alora was going to be his successor to the throne.

The chaos was fueled every day, the commoners protested against the king's announcement until everything was falling into the frightening darkness in the broad daylight.

The expressions of nobles who had arrived to attend the coronation were peculiar. Everyone wanted to breathe in relief but their heart was racing in restlessness.

The death of a 'Royal' member during the auspicious event in the palace was considered to be ominous for the kingdom's prosperity. If Alora was truly the princess of royal blood, they feared the future.

Well, they didn't think this before they wished for her disappearance from the world.

The large double door was pushed open, "Doomsday… Doomsday of the Kingdom Anka." The two men in soldier uniform ran inside the throne hall, crying at the top of their lungs, their faces struck with fear.

'Doomsday!?' The hall suddenly started buzzing with noise. Some opened the windows and a few looked outside the door. There were loud gasps and the windows started clattering against their frames, sprouting anxiety in everyone.

The kingdom was ensnared in the darkness of the gloomy cloud, the roaring wind raised dread in the people.

The two soldiers went to their knees and bowed repeatedly to the king of Anka. "Your Majesty, the commoners are gathering at the gates. Everyone is fearing the end of the world. They are asking to burn the evil princess to cease the doomsday." A soldier begged the king.

A hush fell over in the hall. The king loved his granddaughter Alora dearly. It would be a suicidal move to call the princess evil in front of him, much less ask him to burn the princess, instead of having a royal funeral ceremony.

The king roared, slamming his cane on the floor, "Impudence." The king glowered at the two soldiers, shaking in anger.

He would have slit the throats of those soldiers if his dear granddaughter wasn't adamant about putting on an act to find the miscreant who tried to poison him and shift the blame on her during the coronation.

"Your majesty…" The two soldiers cried out as they bow to the king for mercy.

A handsome man dressed in white royal clothes entered the hall with heavy steps. His gorgeous face had turned darker than the gloomy clouds in the sky and his eyes were bloodshot.

Everyone turned to the entrance when they heard the sword unsheathing.

His cold menacing voice was sharper than the sword he was holding, "How dare mere guards to disrespect the royal princess?"

The soldiers looked at the prince in front of them. They quivered meeting his murderous gaze and the words froze on their tongues.

"Prince Agost!?..."

Before the words could hit the ears of the man to stop him, he swung his sword which was instantly coated in the blood of two soldiers.

The bodies limped to the ground, causing the hall to go completely mute. No one dared to say anything. Neither the King of Anka nor the Prince of Crisal would accept a word against the princess.

The strong arm that was holding the sword drooped when the prince's eyes fell on the coffin. The sword slipped his hold as he took steps.

'Cling clang cling…' The sword fell to the ground creating loud noise in the hall.

Prince Agost dragged his body with his head hanging low, lips curled down and his whole body quivered. He looked like he had lost all strength watching the princess.

He fell to his knees next to the coffin. His reddened eyes moistened, taking a shallow breath, watching the princess pale and lifeless. "Princess Alora…" His pained voice came like a plea.

He cupped her icy cold petite face and a tear rolled down his cheek, "Y-you promised me that w-we will protect Anka together."

Agost Wilburn, the second prince of the Crisal Kingdom. The man who stood by Princess Alora supported her and helped her in the past four months to start her reign over Anka.

At the corner of the hall, a lady snickered in a low voice, "Prince and the throne, both are mine."

"Shh..."