Bloodhoundhearts

CHAPTER 1

They dragged her through the rain.

Elena's feet were bare, bleeding as stones cut into her skin. Her dress, once clean, clung to her body like a second skin, heavy with mud and shame.

"Please," she whispered. "I didn't do it."

No one listened.

Torches burned in the dark, their flames shaking with the wind. Faces watched her-cold, angry, disgusted. Some turned away. Others stared as if she were already dead.

"You deceived the palace," a man shouted.

"You stained the prince's honor," another said.

Elena lifted her head, her eyes red with tears.

"I loved him," she said softly.

That was when the final order was given.

"Throw her out."

The palace gates opened with a cruel sound. She was pushed forward, her body hitting the wet ground hard. The gates slammed shut behind her.

Boom.

Just like that, she was nothing.

Elena lay there, shaking, rain mixing with her tears. Her heart felt torn apart, not from pain-but from betrayal.

She looked back at the palace one last time.

And whispered,

"If I survive this... I will never love again."

The village of Lindenfell always woke gently.

At dawn, soft mist rested on the fields, and the sound of horses moving along the dirt road filled the air. Wooden carts rolled past slowly, carrying sacks of grain and baskets of fresh vegetables. Women laughed in low voices at the market square, spreading cloths on wooden tables, arranging tomatoes, onions, onions, herbs, and fresh bread.

It was a simple life.

But it was a peaceful one.

Elenma walked through the market beside her mother and older sister, carrying a basket of fresh milk bottles from their small farm. The glass clinked softly with each step. Her dress was plain, slightly faded from many washes, yet clean. Her dark hair was neatly braided down her back, and when she smiled, it felt as though the morning itself grew warmer.

People noticed her without meaning to.

She was beautiful.

Not in a way that demanded attention, but in a way that stayed in the heart. Her eyes were large and clear, filled with kindness and quiet thought. When she listened, she truly listened. When she spoke, her voice was soft, calm, and gentle. There was something peaceful about her presence, something that made people feel safe.

Children often ran toward her, tugging at her skirt, asking for stories. Elders greeted her warmly. Even strangers found themselves smiling at her without knowing why.

Yet Elenma never thought herself special.

She was the youngest of four children. Two older sisters who teased her but protected her. One older brother who worked hard and always made sure she ate first. Their family was poor, yes, but love filled their home. At night, they shared meals and laughter. During the day, they shared work and hope.

That morning felt no different.

Until the trumpet sounded.

The sharp sound cut through the market chatter, making heads turn. The laughter faded. Women froze mid-motion. Men straightened. Royal guards rode into the square on tall horses, their armor shining under the sun. One stepped forward, his voice loud and firm.

"Hear this!" he announced. "By order of the crown, the royal palace seeks maidens. Young women willing to work may apply today."

Whispers spread like fire.

"The palace?"

"Royal work?"

"That means steady pay..."

Elenma felt her mother's hand tighten around hers.

"This could help us," her mother said quietly, her voice filled with hope and worry at the same time.

Elenma looked at her family. At her sisters' tired faces. At her brother's worn hands. At her mother's hopeful eyes.

She knew how hard they struggled.

And she knew she could help.

"I'll go," she said softly.

Her family hesitated. Fear flickered across their faces. The palace was a different world. A dangerous one.

But finally, they nodded.

Her mother pulled her into a tight embrace. "Be careful," she whispered. "And stay kind."

That was how fate opened its first door.

By evening, Elenma stood before the palace gates.

They were massive. Tall stone walls rose into the sky, iron gates standing like silent guards. Soldiers watched with sharp eyes. Servants moved quickly inside, dressed neatly, belonging to a world Elenma had only heard about in stories.

Many girls stood waiting, some whispering nervously, others adjusting their clothes, hoping to look important.

Elenma stood quietly.

And from the shadows, someone watched her.

Ramela.

Ramela's eyes narrowed the moment Elenma stepped forward.

"There," she thought.

"That must be her."

Ramela knew the prophecy well.

A girl from nothing.

A girl unnoticed.

A girl bound to the crown's fate.

And if that girl crossed paths with the prince...

Ramela's mission would fail.

So she smiled sweetly.

She approached Elenma, speaking kindly, giving directions that led nowhere. She delayed her. Sent her the wrong way. Watched the sun sink lower as time slipped away.

"She will be too late," Ramela thought with satisfaction.

But fate did not listen.

When Elenma finally reached the palace hall, breathless and anxious, the palace matron studied her closely. Her eyes lingered on Elenma's calm face, her steady hands, her respectful bow.

"We need hands in the kitchen," the matron said after a pause. "If you can work, you stay."

Elenma bowed deeply. "I will work hard."

Ramela's fingers curled at her side.

The kitchen became Elenma's world.

Heat filled the air. Pots clanged. Voices shouted. Smoke rose from the fires.

She scrubbed plates until her fingers burned. She washed heavy pots bigger than her arms. She carried water until her back ached.

Still, she never complained.

She smiled.

She helped others.

She worked quietly, carefully, as if she belonged there.

And that smile made Ramela furious.

Because Elenma did not break.

And Ramela knew-

That this girl was only beginning.

And as night settled over the palace, fate stirred quietly. Somewhere beyond the walls, unseen forces watched Elenma closely, waiting for the moment her hidden power would awaken and change everything forever.