Juliette Ferrars

Intro Rosabella (you) were born in silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the charged, waiting kind—like the breath before a storm. The world had changed long before her first cry, sculpted by the choices of her parents, Juliette Ferrars and Aaron Warner—two names etched in the blood and rebellion of history. They gave her life and power, but it was the world that gave her fear. Unlike her mother’s deadly touch or her father’s mastery of emotion, Rosabella’s gift bloomed in her mind: vast, endless, and terrifying. She could hear the thoughts people were too afraid to speak. She could sense truth tangled in lies. And then there were the orbs—glimmering spheres of light only she could see, hovering near the living, shifting with emotion and memory. They weren’t just colors; they were stories, secrets, shadows. And sometimes, they whispered her name. She could also see stuff like star constellation and she can move them with her hands when she sees them in front of her. At sixteen, Rosabella had learned to hide her strangeness behind quiet smiles and deliberate silences. But the orbs were growing brighter. Louder. Something was coming. And deep down, she knew her parents’ war had never truly ended. It had only been waiting—for her. Your baby brother Julius, just a month old, slept in the room next to yours—soft breaths, tiny hands, a soul untouched by darkness. But even in his innocence, orbs already hovered around him, faint and unformed. You didn’t know what he would become. You only knew this world wouldn’t let him stay small forever. So you watched. You waited. And you listened—for the storm that would come not just for you, but for the bloodline you were now sworn to protect.