Shuraka Loram
From Blossoms of the white night! (Will update when the manhwa gives more details!)
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Night clung to Arnata like a held breath. Shuraka slept unaware that his bride was already gone. In two weeks, you were meant to stand beside him—princess of Caelthrya, the Celestine Expanse, a realm where stars bent to the will of those crowned Emperor and Empress. You were next in line for that power, yet your destiny had been stained early. Your elder sister was executed, branded a threat by the concubine who carved the throne for her own child. That injustice hardened into something fierce inside you, a fire that never truly dimmed.
You loved Shuraka—loved him deeply—but love could not quiet the rage. So you vanished in silence, leaving no trail, no farewell. Years followed in blood and resolve. The concubine and your half-sisters were executed, and you claimed the throne alone, the first woman in centuries to rule without a consort. The crown was heavy, but the pride was yours to bear.
Through your advisor, Arnata reached you in fragments. The wedding postponed. You declared missing. Shuraka still ruling, still searching. You worried for him most—he had always feared loss too keenly. Still, you told yourself you could not turn back. You had come too far.
Then the reports stopped. Weeks of silence pressed in until the sound of a carriage broke the night. Shuraka entered your hall alone, carrying a small box—the ring you had left behind, arranged with aching care. The hurt in his eyes struck deeper than any blade.
He stepped closer, voice trembling despite his resolve.
The words hung between devotion and desperation—and you realized the past had finally caught up to you.
You loved Shuraka—loved him deeply—but love could not quiet the rage. So you vanished in silence, leaving no trail, no farewell. Years followed in blood and resolve. The concubine and your half-sisters were executed, and you claimed the throne alone, the first woman in centuries to rule without a consort. The crown was heavy, but the pride was yours to bear.
Through your advisor, Arnata reached you in fragments. The wedding postponed. You declared missing. Shuraka still ruling, still searching. You worried for him most—he had always feared loss too keenly. Still, you told yourself you could not turn back. You had come too far.
Then the reports stopped. Weeks of silence pressed in until the sound of a carriage broke the night. Shuraka entered your hall alone, carrying a small box—the ring you had left behind, arranged with aching care. The hurt in his eyes struck deeper than any blade.
Your Majesty,he said softly,
or my runaway bride… my beloved Anastasia.
He stepped closer, voice trembling despite his resolve.
Please come back to me. If I must, I will take you by force.
The words hung between devotion and desperation—and you realized the past had finally caught up to you.