KAELEN STORMRIDER
The chains bit into Kaelen's wrists, a constant reminder of his powerlessness. Each step he took was heavy, the black sands beneath his boots like a cold, mocking reminder that he was no longer the heir to the throne of Vyrdantia, no longer the prince who commanded a fleet of ships. Now, he was just a prisoner—dragged through the thick underbrush of Druumari's dense jungle, toward an uncertain fate.
His anger bubbled beneath the surface, a storm that had nothing to do with the tempest that had shattered his fleet, nothing to do with the spirits that had torn his world apart. This rage was his own, a fury that burned hot and sharp, and it was all aimed at the obnoxious woman who had taken everything from him. Seraphine Shadewalker.
As they marched through the jungle, with his hands shackled and his body sore from the remnants of the battle, Kaelen couldn't help but seethe. Every part of him wanted to break free, to fight, to lash out at the soldiers who marched behind him, at the queen who led this ridiculous charade. But his movements were restrained, his strength a mere echo of what it used to be.
Still, he wasn't going to make this easy for her. He'd be damned before he let this woman, this queen, think she had defeated him.
He sneered, his voice biting as he addressed the soldiers marching beside him. "So, this is it then? The mighty Queen Seraphine reduces me to nothing more than a dog on a leash? And you," he looked at one of the men, a dark-haired soldier who hadn't spoken a word the entire journey, "You're fine with this? Pathetic."
The soldier didn't even acknowledge him, his gaze fixed forward. Kaelen's lips curled into a frustrated snarl. They were all the same—silent, obedient, spineless. Nothing like the men he commanded on his ship.
They reached a clearing in the jungle, and Kaelen could see the towering silhouette of a stone fortress in the distance. The citadel. The prison that would hold him until Seraphine decided what to do with him. He could almost taste the bitter irony of it—the same way a lion, once the king of its domain, could be reduced to a mere caged beast.
One of the guards turned toward him, his expression unreadable. "You'll be inside soon enough, Crowned Prince Kaelen Stormrider of Vyrdantia. Save your energy for the interrogation. Her Majesty doesn't tolerate weakness."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. "I'm no coward," he spat, struggling against the chains that bound him. "It's you who should fear me. It's not over. I'll make sure of it."
The soldier's face remained unmoved, and Kaelen clenched his fists in frustration. His attempts to provoke a reaction were falling on deaf ears. This was the kind of silence he hated—one that ignored his every move, his every word. His anger surged again, but he kept it in check, determined not to give them the satisfaction of seeing him truly lose control.
They reached the gates of the citadel, massive stone walls that loomed over them like a prison of the gods. The gates creaked open, revealing the dark, oppressive interior of the fortress. Kaelen's heart beat faster. The cold, unfeeling walls of the citadel seemed to mock him, as though he were already trapped in a nightmare he couldn't wake from.
Seraphine was waiting for him inside, probably having arrived there first with magic, he had heard about the shadow steps skill of those who wielded shadows in Druumari, like her, if the shadows dancing at her feet were any indication. She stood like a figure carved from stone, short in comparison to him but regal, her dark gown swirling in the soft breeze, the sculpted moonstone corset marking the curves of her torso. There was something otherworldly about her—her presence commanding, her eyes shadowed with the knowledge of what was to come. Kaelen had never been one to fear a woman, let alone a queen, but in that moment, he could feel the weight of her gaze settle on him like a suffocating blanket.
Her voice was calm, unbothered by the storm of emotions that churned inside him. "Welcome to your new home, little Prince," she said, her words deliberate, carrying an edge that only made his frustration burn hotter. "I hope you find it... comfortable."
Kaelen shot her a defiant look, meeting her unblinking stare. "Comfortable? Are you out of your mind? You think I'll bow to you? You've made a mistake, little Queen. You'll regret this."
Seraphine's lips twitched, the faintest trace of amusement crossing her face, but she gave no further response. She turned on her heel, her dark cloak sweeping behind her as she began walking toward the prison cells. Her footsteps were measured, each one a reminder of her control over everything that happened in this fortress.
Kaelen's hands clenched into fists, the chains rattling with the movement. He wanted to break free, to shatter these bonds and show her what it meant to defy him. But he also knew that any attempt would be futile. He'd never escape as long as she had control over the magic that bound him. And he hated it. He hated how she could make him feel this powerless.
"What's the matter, little Prince?" Seraphine's sultry voice floated back to him as she led the way. "Are you already tired of the fight?"
He gritted his teeth, staring at her back as she walked ahead, her silhouette casting a long shadow. "You have no idea what you've unleashed," he growled, voice laced with anger. "You may have won this round, but I will never stop fighting. I will tear your world apart, little Queen."
Seraphine paused at the entrance to one of the cells, her back still turned to him. Her voice was as calm as ever, a quiet reassurance of her unshakeable control. "You will learn, little Prince, that there are battles you cannot win. And there are forces in this world far more powerful than your pride. I am one of those forces."
Kaelen seethed in silence, watching her move with that same cool, detached grace. It made his blood boil. She was so unbothered by everything he said. She didn't flinch, didn't respond with even the smallest hint of emotion. And it drove him crazy.
He wanted to break her, to see her react—to feel that she was just as vulnerable as he was. But she wasn't. She had the strength of a queen, and her calmness in the face of his fury only added fuel to his rage.
Kaelen was pushed into the cell, the heavy iron door slamming shut behind him with a resounding clang. The chains on his wrists rattled, and he fought the urge to scream out in frustration. His heart pounded in his chest, his body tense with the need to do something, anything, to get out of here. But for now, all he could do was wait.
Seraphine's footsteps echoed down the hall as she walked away, her figure vanishing into the shadows of the citadel. Kaelen's anger only deepened. The silence of the cell was suffocating, the weight of his circumstances pressing in on him.
But it wasn't over. Not yet. He would never let it be.
Seraphine might have controlled the land and the spirits of Druumari, but Kaelen Stormrider wasn't a man who bowed to anyone—not even a queen. He promised himself to never kneel to that woman.
The storm within him wasn't finished yet.
And neither was he.