The forest was silent, and the ground beneath him was awash in moonlight. Dirt clung to his skin, and the wild, panicked breathing of a boy far too young to be fleeing filled the air. He pushed aside thick brambles that scratched his arms raw.
He was Prince Keyal, heir of the Blackwood Empire—born in royalty, but now just a scared twelve-year-old boy stumbling through the cursed woods.
A golden robe clung to the child's body, now torn and caked in blood and mud. Embroidered with the emblem of the Blackwood Empire, the garment once shimmered in the sunlight like fire dancing on a river's surface. Now, it dragged through thorns and branches—a banner of a past life. His feet—bare and swollen—were smeared with grime and blood, every step a silent cry of agony. His hands trembled as he pushed forward.
No birds, no rustling of leaves. Just the sound of small, frantic footsteps—bare, bleeding, and desperate—pounding with death chasing at his heels.
Even during this chase, he wasn't thinking about himself. The only person on his mind was his younger brother, Raun.
"Is Raun okay? Yeah, he is. I already hid him in the secret room... he'll escape."
That one thought pulsed louder than his heartbeat. It throbbed with every step, with every ragged breath, with every aching joint that screamed for rest. His little brother. Four years old. Innocent. Fragile. Still clinging to a stuffed wolf sewn from old silk. Still asking, Why did Father delay his return again?
Keyal had hidden Raun beneath the nursery's false floor—the same place they used to play hide-and-seek.
Did they find him? Did he cry out for me? Please... don't hurt him. Don't touch him.
The pain of his wounds, the cold bite of the night wind, the iron taste of blood in his mouth—none of it mattered.
He had to survive.
"I have to run and get Raun out of the palace. We'll hide until Father comes back."
He had to reach someone who could help—someone who would listen before Arkan's lies became truth. Before the crown labeled him a traitor, murderer, runaway. Before his little brother's fate was sealed.
The Royal Concubine took charge of everything after his mother, the Queen, died. After that, their life turned upside down. Now that the King was away, she found her chance and falsely framed him. Using the Queen's authority, she ordered them to be executed early—before the King returned.
Keyal knew this would happen, but he escaped from jail before sunrise. It was clear—she wanted to make her own son the prince, so she used her authority and framed him.
He was running aimlessly to escape from the soldiers, clinging to a false hope in his mind. His father—"The King."
But deep down, he knew... Father had lost interest in them after the Queen died. He somewhat knew his father had already set both brothers aside.
But still... he hoped. Hoped that parents would never truly abandon their children.
"Dammit, my legs... run, run, please. I regret being born with such low magical power. If not, I wouldn't be in this sorry state."
But time was running out. Soon the sun would rise, and he would have no place left to hide.
"I have to quickly cut the tail."
Behind him, the trees groaned under the weight of riders tearing through the underbrush. Horses whinnied as steel-clad hooves crushed everything in their path.
The sounds weren't distant anymore—they were closing in. Every beat of the hooves felt like a countdown.