Queen Arwen sits on a stool in front of her mirror, her maid, Darcia, putting the finishing touches onto her elaborate bun that sits on the back do her head with white pearls woven into her hair. She stands up and at looks herself, with Darcia resting her head on her shoulder, 

"You look beautiful as always Arwen," Darcia says with a shy timid smile, putting some finishing touches to Arwen's hair.

"Thank you," Arwen says trying to smile but she is not looking forward to meeting her first suitor and is nervous as she's never really spoken to a boy her age properly and she has never attempted flirting and she has no idea how to do it. What if she fails? How does one flirt? How does one kiss? The thoughts make her cringe and make nervous butterflies spread in her stomach. 

She was raised to be a queen and she is never going to be a normal island girl who could flirt as she pleases but now she must do it. For Cierra tells her on many occasions that she must make the suitors think with their hearts rather than their heads' or something along those lines. It is amusing how Arwen is worrying about such things when she should be focusing on becoming queen.

She wishes she could be a White Handed Queen, a queen who ascends to the throne with no blood on her hands. Like Queen Arsinoe or Queen Andira.

But for that to happen now her sisters would have to be sacrificed and they would have to be weak for that to happen. And neither of them are weak as Cierra loves to remind her constantly. They are both strong in character and with their gifts. It makes Arwen scared. She is supposed to be a powerful, rare shadow but she only feels fear and stupid.

Cierra says that because her sisters are strong is the reason that she will have to be stronger, fiercer and more ruthless.

Cierra has slapped Arwen for talk of perhaps becoming a White Handed Queen. She said that it was fool's talk and to not talk or think of it again - dismissing Arwen entirely as she always had. 

But even if her sisters were ever weak and there was ever a possibility that she could ascend to the throne without bloodshed, Cierra would've stopped it somehow. She relishes the bloodshed of it all. Cierra wants to prove how powerful shadows are when their community eventually fully integrates back into the community of Fennbirn.

The shadow matriarch doesn't want the first shadow queen in eons to break the cycle of their wins, for no shadow queen in history has ever lost an Ascension Year. That is why they are so rare and the Goddess made them weaker to make them more equal to the rest of the island. They were much too powerful to begin with, not truly mortal with the strength they held.

Thinking of Cierra and her gift makes her more nervous as she hugs Darcia, her silent yet kind companion, and then goes to find Ebony so she can feel slightly better. It's a habit she's had since she was a child.

Cautiously, she steps out of her rooms, making sure that she isn't heard as Cierra instructed her to stay in her room until she calls her down for her birthday ball and the meeting of her first suitor; all the important shadows on the island will be there to criticise Arwen's every move, especially regarding her moves involving the mainland suitor.

He was granted early admission which Pele allowed under Arsinoe's Act which she made during her own reign. His family is of royal blood. Valostra's King and Pele made negotiations. Cierra managed to get her claws into the right of housing the suitor under the guise that since there have been no shadow queens for generations that they need to familiarise themselves with tradition before Beltane and Valostra hasn't been involved with the island for years so they wanted to familiarise themselves as well. It was a stupid excuse but surprisingly Pele allowed it, although Ebony told Arwen about the large sum both the King and Cierra has to pay for this. Pele didn't much care though for what was one suitor to her?

One suitor. That Arwen is expected to impress. A dozen shadows. That Arwen is expected to impress.

The shadows are as mysterious as they are cold and calculating. Arwen sometimes wonders how she is one of them. A shadow by birth, but her heart is something else, something she hasn't quite figured out yet. 

Breathing slowly, she quietly jogs down the dark hallway, hoisting her long black dress up so that she doesn't trip, reaching Ebony's room very quickly, closing the ebony wood door behind her with near perfect silence. Years of practise. Exploring is one of her only form of entertainment seeing as there's no company her own age, Darcia isn't included as she's paid to care for her but the maid is only a few years older and first came to the Mansion when she was fifteen and Arwen was eleven. Arwen is friendly with some other of the servants in the house as well but Darcia is closest to her own age so they get along the most.

She's been in this house for most of her life, only allowing to leave on heavily supervised visits. She is never allowed to socialise. That is forbidden after the time Arwen ran away for a little bit and some of her friends helped her. To escape Cierra and her fate of being a queen. Arwen was young and foolish at the time, that is why the plan failed. It wasn't a proper plan to escape, just to try and hide but Cierra's rage was unfathomable.

But now it's almost as if Cierra is scared to let anyone in or scared to let her leave. Arwen doesn't know which one it is, she only wishes she could've socialised more growing up, so she could've had friends and more companionship. More joy. But it's too late now. She can't think about useless things like friends or the longing for company, she needs to think about far more. 

After she closes the long dark door, Arwen peers in and quickly finds Ebony there, who is writing a letter at her desk, not noticing that Arwen has entered. 

The queen walks over to where Ebony is standing, who is writing her letter impossibly fast, her brow creased in determination as she signs her name at the bottom with her raven black feather quill and looks up, a beaming smile plastered onto her face as she spots Arwen standing near her. It makes Arwen radiate towards her charming nature immediately and she instantly feels comfortable in her presence.

Ebony puts the letter in a draw, seemingly locking it in a few fast movements and then walks over to Arwen, carefully placing a few long strands of her immaculate silver curls behind her and brushing her dark purple dress down, checking that her elaborate sleeves were in order before hugging Arwen. Ebony is flawless, graceful and neat. All the things shadow women are supposed to be. 

The young queen almost flinches as she has not been hugged in a while, certainly never by Cierra, her emotionless guardian, but she eventually hugs back as Ebony is the only person who has ever expressed true emotion towards her, excluding Darcia. And the last time Cierra touched her it was a slap rather than a hug.

Ebony smiles warmly at her as they break apart,

"You look radiant dear," she says warmly, her violet eyes sparkling, "this suitor, Klaude Vale, won't be able to keep his eyes off you; further down the line he might even be the one you marry once you are crowned Queen."

Arwen offers a slight smile while walking over to the large rectangular window to look out down on the dark gardens of Draven Mansion. They're horribly black, dark and boring like most of Draven Mansion and Umbra. Some people find the darkness alluring and enticing. Not Arwen. It repels her. She hates this house and this damned city. That's why she never really roams the city itself and she's never been allowed to much anyway. Not without a horde of Raduron guards constantly on her tale.

That's why through these years she has become rather good at finding ways to sneak out and go to her special cliff. Cierra always lets her to visit the cliff without reprimands after Ebony persuaded her, it is her little piece of freedom.

"I hope so, for the love of a suitor will certainly provide an advantage over my sisters," Arwen says and then pauses, looking lost for a moment, "after I have an advantage, the Ascension will be easier."

Arwen uses the word "Ascension" rather to directly say that killing them will be easier after she has an advantage. She hates acknowledging the true word and meaning.

Ebony sits at her small table, nodding while sipping her tea and asks quite calmly, "Yes, how will you kill them? Or will you have a different death for each?" 

Arwen cannot suppress the expression of disgust that appears on her face, even Ebony, who is a nicer shadow, can only think about her own ambitions for Arwen to become Queen, making the shadows more powerful, ultimately making her more powerful. 

"Ebony, you know I do not like talking about this," she says sighing as she goes to sit down.  She hates talking about her sisters, especially how she must kill them. 

Ebony rolls her eyes at Arwen's sensitivity and walks over to Arwen, crouching down and clasping her hands, looking into Arwen's black orbs with her equally haunting but beautiful purple eyes, 

"Arwen, you must ignore this notion that you will not inevitably have to kill your sisters, the ones that you loved," Ebony takes a deep breath before continuing, "You love the memory of them, when they were children and not speaking about killing them, doesn't make the fact that you will have to kill them in the end, disappear. You are ignoring it but your sentimentality may cost you not just your crown but your life. I ask you this Arwen, are you ready to die because of the love that you hold for their memories?" 

Arwen shakes her head, letting a single tear roll down her pale cheek, before wiping it away quickly to not sure too much weakness.

"Why don't you just turn it off?" Ebony questions, "your emotional attachment to them, or perhaps lessen it a little."

"I can't do that forever," Arwen says, upset and frustrated, "I could only lessen it temporarily, it would fade, true emotion cannot be cut out from my heart."

Ebony nods, reassuring in her manner as she smiles comfortingly at Arwen,

"Of course," Ebony says, nothing but warmth in her tone, "but perhaps you should use your gift tonight to lessen your emotion towards that particular subject. After all, you can't impress a suitor if you're all upset like this."

Arwen only nods slowly, choosing to listen to Ebony rather than keep talking about the same awful topic. So she uses her gift to take away the pain and the haunting memories.

As a shadow, she can weaken her own emotions, until they are barely there, small fragments of what feelings there used to be, at least for a bit, so that is what she does.

She was feeling weak before but now she is stronger. Tonight, she will not let love for the ghosts of her past haunt her, she will do whatever it takes to survive not just her sisters, but the Goddess as well. 

Well that is what she tells herself but some emotions can never be fully taken away. But she will keep trying so one day she doesn't hurt quite so much. 

Arwen then heightens her senses, hearing Cierra's approaching voice and footsteps by the bottom of the staircase and the low hum of the presence of shadows in the ballroom. 

She kisses Ebony on each cheek in farewell, before stepping out of Ebony's room and beginning her descent down the stairs; with each step her love for her sisters slowly becomes dormant, retreating deep inside her heart where not even Cierra can find it and once she has completely descended, there is a hole where that love once was. For now at least.

Arwen first studies the ballroom, there are several miniature chandeliers that are silver and black. Simple and effective. 

Candles of shadowfire are lit around the room, making it appear more darker and sinister that its true form. Shadowfire is the only form of fire or light used by shadows and it's barely anything. These candles are most likely lit as a courtesy as not everyone attending is a shadow so they cannot see in the dark as shadows can.

This is a true shadow's ball nonetheless, everything completely coated in darkness and shadows, with very little light.

Shadows are nocturnal so they can see clearly and perfectly where there is no light, they prefer the sinister allure of darkness to the innocent purity of light. 

Time almost slows and the sight before Arwen is like a painting, everything and everyone, is still and perfectly in place. Then the moment of stillness passes and Arwen blinks as everyone and everything begins to move again. 

She is dubious about this whole night as the true terror of what truly lies in the shadows, looms over her like the ominous black clouds that were gathering overhead as a storm began.

Shaking away her doubts, Arwen walks to the heart of the ballroom, picking up a glass of nightshade wine as she goes. 

As she slowly drinks the delectable drink, she marvels at the midnight blue liquid that shimmers in the dark light. 

The wine is made from nightshade berries; they're rare fruits that need absolute darkness to grow and they are only found in the centre of Umbra, the Black Cottage and the Breccia Domain, the pit where the bodies of fallen queens are thrown down to rot, but Arwen believes that they still might be falling in the bottomless pit of pitch black. It used to give her nightmares as a child when Cierra taught her about it. Most shadows know a lot about it as the Breccia Domain is a source of power for shadows seeing as they haven't had any shadow queens born to boost their power.

Perhaps that is a good thing for Arwen has read tales of the sheer strength that the gift used to possess, it was enough to conquer nations within a heartbeat. Arwen supposed it is the Goddess' way of keeping a balance and not have mere mortals that had gifts nearly as strong as her own.

Although the strength of the gift has lessened, it is still very powerful and that is why they are so keen for Arwen to ascend, the first shadow queen born in centuries and she could help restore their godly power. She could help them bring the world to its knees. But that terrifies her all the same. No one should have that sort of power, not even a queen. And hers is still developing, though she can do more than Cierra.

Shuddering, she goes back to thinking about the wine. She does not want to think about the strength of the old terrifying shadow gift or the dreaded Breccia Domain, where her resting place might be unless she is triumphant. 

Perhaps she can get drunk and forget about this whole night. So she drinks more wine, until her worries are nearly gone and her spirits are much merrier.

The wine is a shadow's drink and no one but a shadow or a shadow's guest can drink their almost elite drink, as others are considered unworthy to taste what only shadows can taste. 

Arwen looks around the room again and sees many noble shadows, dressed in several different tones silver and black but none of the blacks are dark enough to match Arwen's hair, eyes and dress.

For no one dares upstage Cierra Raduron's ward by pretending to be royal by wearing black.  The colour of queens. 

She sees many Umbra priestesses, that have crawled out of the shadows to celebrate her birthday, cold hearted Priestess Maeve is one she recognises; further on are two members of Cierra's inner circle, Orpheus Raduron - Cierra and Ebony's cousin - and Narine Haven, a highborn shadow whose nose is lifted a little too snobbishly into the air. Arwen suspects the woman is here to curry favour with her. Perhaps she would like a space on Arwen's Black Council, she wouldn't put it past Narine, the Havens are an ambitious lot, second only to the Radurons.

Finally she sees Cierra, who locks eyes with her and gazes so intensely that Arwen is forced to look away. Nothing is as intense as a shadow's glare and from many years, Arwen knows that Cierra's is the worst. 

She is suddenly attacked by Orpheus and Narine who attempt to boost their status in the room by being the first ones who to gain audience with the Shadow Queen. 

Narine's white hair is done in so many complex braids that it's almost too much. And her dark skin has cosmetics on it, though her face doesn't need anything to enhance it. Arwen notes a gold glittery shine on her cheekbones. It must be the latest fashion.

And then there is Orpheus, who is in his early twenties, smoothes his shiny silver hair back before giving her a flirtatious smile, 

"So how do you like the festivities my queen?" He asks, one eyebrow raised, trying to make his voice sound alluring. Goddess knows why.

Arwen suppresses the urge to roll her eyes at Orpheus but fakes a smile saying, "They are the beautiful embodiment of darkness." 

Narine immediately nods her head, eager to agree with anything Arwen has to say. For Arwen is queen and has the highest status in the room. Even though she doesn't want it she holds the power and everyone knows it.

"I agree my queen. Your taste and observations are impeccable," Narine says causing Arwen to sigh in annoyance,

"Well Narine, one must only use their eyes to observe and we all have eyes do we not?" Arwen says dryly, not really expecting a verbal answer to come from Narine. Normally she wouldn't be this rude but she can't be bothered to deal with the Haven girl today.

Narine nods hastily at Arwen's words, red rising to her pale cheeks in embarrassment. Orpheus rolls his eyes at white haired Narine and nods his head in approval at Arwen, opening his mouth to speak. 

But before he has the chance, a low but beautifully melodic voice, speaks from behind her, "If I may, I will steal the famous Shadow Queen away in order to experience the pleasure of her company and perhaps a dance." 

Slowly, Arwen turns her head around and sees the owner of the beautiful voice. 

He is a stranger, that much is obvious and he has the look of a mainlander. He isn't from the island. Although Cierra has foreign dignitaries often so it isn't entirely strange.  He is handsome with dark golden blonde hair, a tan complexion, a lean build and sky blue eyes. Though as she looks him up and down she realises that he is quite tall next to her, which is unusual as she is also tall for a girl her age. It unsettles her for some reason.

She raises her eyebrows as his suit is the same colour as her hair, eyes and dress. Black. He's either an ambitious fool who is attempting to win her favour or he believes himself to be of equal importance to a queen. He has nerve, she thinks smiling to herself. 

Without waiting for her response, he slowly kisses her hand and walks with her to the centre of the ballroom. He claps his hands and violins begin playing once again as their left hands rest on each other as they begin to dance. 

While they are dancing, she works up enough courage to ask, "Who are you?"

The stranger smiles and chuckles saying, "Forgive me for not introducing myself your grace, I am your suitor, Lord Klaude Vale." 

Lord? What a ridiculous concept. For men to have such titles. Odd. But the Arwen takes in the actual weight of his words and her smile vanishes at that. A suitor is the last thing she needs right now. She doesn't want one and wishes that she had the authority to send him away, but she doesn't have it until she is crowned.  And she knows Cierra wouldn't approve. This is to be her king consort then. Wonderful.

"I suppose Cierra has sent you over to woo me," she says rolling her eyes in disgust, "I want you to know that just because Cierra likes you, it doesn't mean that I will." 

Klaude nods in agreement and says, "I was instructed by my father from Cierra to introduce myself," then his voice lowers as a small smirk forms, "however the wooing part that you speak of, that's all me love."

Love? It's an odd nickname but before she can help it she begins to smile at that but she makes it vanish as she scoffs, "Klaude Vale, I do hope that you aren't trying to toy with me."

Klaude twirls her around and Arwen suddenly remembers that they are also dancing while talking and she decides to listen to the music rather than listen to him. 

"I would never dare risk your famous wrath Queen Arwen so be assured that I would never toy with you," he says locking her black eyes with his blue ones as he lowers her into a dip, "that particular aspect of flirting is suitable for mainland girls but not for a queen such as you."

Arwen cannot help but to stare into his mesmerising sparkling blue eyes, that are as clear as the waters in Starfall Lake, but then she is the first to look away as she knows instantly that he would be easy to fall in love with and love is not part of this game and she cannot allow it to even take root. So instead she becomes indifferent.

"I bet you'll say this to my other sisters as well if you choose to bother them with your presence," Arwen says in a snarky tone and is surprised at herself. She doesn't usually speak to people like this but she can't help it with this suitor for some reason, "so Klaus was it?"

"My name is Klaude love," he says with a smile, "but by all means, call me whatever you wish."

Arwen only rolls her eyes, "did you practise your lines for tonight or does this irritating facade of yours just come naturally?"

Klaude laughs and it is a deep glorious sound, "you really don't take kindly to flirting do you?"

Arwen raises her eyebrows, actually letting out a chuckle as they keep spinning to the rhythm of the music, "is this your idea of flirting?"

Klaude shakes his head, his smile never wavering for a second as he replies, "no this is my idea of winning for I've clearly gotten under your skin."

Arwen begins to protest but Klaude continues, his smirk growing bigger by the second,

"Most girls like this sort of attention but then again, you're not like most girls are you Queen Arwen," he says softly as he picks her up, spinning her around for one of the final parts of the dance, "no matter. You're quite an intriguing girl and I never shy from a challenge."

Arwen shakes her head, a scowl forming at her mouth as she forgets what she was about to say and instead settles for snapping, "my goddess you're annoying."

"I try my best," Klaude says,winking at her in reply as he lets go of her hand and waist, kissing her hand politely and abruptly leaving without another word.

It takes Arwen a moment to realise that the dance is over and by the time it does she is blinking furiously, trying to comprehend the interaction she just had with her 'future king-consort'. Her eyes find the hand where Klaude's lips had been moments ago and when she looks up she sees him staring at her again so she scowls again, blushing slightly much to her annoyance.

Walking away from the centre of the ballroom, she takes another glass of nightshade from a waiter, draining it completely and ignores Klaude's burning gaze from the other side of the room. He is pressing her to be daring enough to come over and approach but she doesn't have the nerve for that just yet.

Her life is a game of chess and she can't allow a new chess piece onto the board. Not a pawn such as Klaude who may not win by a show of strength but by making a direct beeline for the unsuspecting queen.