DOOMED IN LOVE

Doomed in Love: The Tragedy of Alina and Andreas

Part I: The Meeting

The moon hung low over the city of Elesmere, bleeding pale silver through the cathedral towers and into the cracked streets below. In the heart of the noble district, a masquerade ball spun its music through golden halls, where laughter and lies danced arm in arm.

Alina stood at the edge of the ballroom, her mask a delicate lattice of black lace, eyes like dying stars. She wore the colors of mourning—at her mother’s request, for tradition, not grief. Her betrothal had just been announced that morning to Lord Davian, a name as cold as the winter wind.

She didn't want him. She didn't want any of this.

And yet, as fate would have it, she had no choice.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” a voice asked from behind her.

Alina turned slowly. The man who stood there was a stranger, cloaked in midnight. His mask was simple, unlike the jeweled peacocks and lions of the nobles. There was nothing remarkable about his face—yet his voice stirred something inside her. Something old. Something familiar.

“I believe in many things,” she replied. “But ghosts don’t dance at masquerades.”

“They do,” he said, stepping closer. “Especially the ones no one sees.”

His name was Andreas, though he would not say it until much later. He was no nobleman, no guest. He had slipped through shadows, scaled iron gates and slipped into the heart of the enemy for one reason: to see her.

They talked for only minutes—long enough to know that they had met before. In dreams. In stories. In the ache of longing neither could explain.

When he kissed her hand before vanishing into the crowd, she felt it in her soul:

This was no beginning.

This was the beginning of the end.

To be continued in Part II..............