The comet's fiery streak had not yet faded from the heavens when the palace bells began to toll.
Prince Aelion sat upright in his chambers, the echoing chime shaking him from restless sleep. His dream had been strange—he had stood alone in a barren field, the crown upon his head burning hot, while a shadow stretched long behind him, whispering words he could not understand. When he reached back to touch it, the shadow gripped his wrist.
The bells jolted him awake before he could see the face hidden in the dark.
Kaelen burst through the door, already armored. His blade gleamed faintly in the moonlight that poured through the balcony windows.
"Your Highness," he said quickly, "an escape. The dungeons. Someone has shattered the lower cells."
Aelion's blood ran cold. "The prisoner."
Kaelen nodded grimly.
---
The Council in Chaos
The throne room was ablaze with torches when Aelion and Kaelen arrived. The councilors argued over one another, their voices crashing like waves against the marble walls.
"Dark magic was used!" cried Lord Branth, his jeweled fingers trembling. "No mortal could break those chains."
"It is the prophecy," hissed another. "The shadow rises even now. The heavens have spoken."
Varros, as calm as a spider at the center of its web, raised his hand for silence. His voice slithered into the air, measured and sharp.
"Your Majesty, we cannot ignore the signs. The comet was no accident. The chains that bound that… creature… were forged in the age of the gods. Yet they are broken. If this shadow claims the prophecy's mantle, your reign is in peril."
Aelion's throat tightened. "And what do you propose? Another execution on the word of fear?"
Varros' eyes gleamed. "No, Your Majesty. This demands more than executions. We must prepare for war. The shadow will not rise alone—it will gather followers, feeding on the fears of the people. If you are to shine, you must burn away all who stand in darkness."
The council murmured approval.
But Kaelen stepped forward, his voice carrying steel. "Your Majesty, permission to lead a search party. If the prisoner has truly escaped, we must track him before his power grows unchecked."
Aelion looked at him, torn between duty and dread. But when Kaelen's gaze met his, steady and unwavering, the prince found his answer.
"Go," Aelion commanded. "Take only those you trust. I will not have the council's spies meddling in this hunt."
Varros' smile faltered.
---
Whispers in the Night
Later, when the council had dispersed, Aelion lingered alone in the grand hall. His footsteps echoed faintly against the marble, and the weight of the crown pressed heavier than ever.
He looked up at the painted ceiling, where gods and mortals danced together beneath eternal starlight. The Celestial Kingdoms thrive under the stars, the priests always said. But the heavens bind every fate.
"Do they bind my heart as well?" he whispered.
Behind him, Kaelen's voice answered, low and steady. "The stars may draw the map, but you choose the road."
Aelion turned, startled. He hadn't realized Kaelen had returned. His guard's armor was dusted with the journey's wear, and his eyes burned with the fire of someone who had seen too much darkness too soon.
"Kaelen…" Aelion's voice softened. "When you speak, it feels as though you defy even the heavens themselves."
Kaelen stepped closer, close enough that the scent of steel and earth lingered between them. "Then let me be your defiance. If prophecy demands only one, then let me stand against it, even if it means standing against gods."
Aelion's chest tightened. "And if fate punishes you for it?"
"Then I will bear it gladly," Kaelen whispered.
For a breathless moment, the world outside—the comet, the prisoner, the prophecy—faded into silence. Only the two of them remained, caught between duty and desire, their hearts beating like war drums in unison.
But before their closeness could tip into something more dangerous, the sound of rushing footsteps broke the spell.
---
The First Attack
The doors slammed open, and a soldier stumbled in, blood streaking his armor.
"Your Majesty—!" he gasped. "The village at Lorynth Vale—it burns. The escaped prisoner… he commands shadows. They rise like soldiers of smoke. We—" His words choked into silence as he collapsed.
Aelion froze, horror knotting his gut. The shadow was not hiding—it was declaring war.
Kaelen immediately moved to Aelion's side. "I will ride at once."
"No." Aelion's voice rang sharper than he intended. All eyes turned toward him. He steadied himself, lifting his chin. "If this is the prophecy at work, then I cannot remain behind palace walls. The people must see their prince stand against the darkness."
"Your Majesty," Varros objected, "you cannot risk yourself—"
"I must," Aelion cut him off. "For what worth is a crown if it cowers while its kingdom burns?"
Kaelen's hand brushed his arm in silent protest, but Aelion only met his gaze with quiet resolve.
"I will go," he said, softer now. "But I will not go without you."
---
The Shadow's Power
The journey to Lorynth Vale was swift, the night air biting cold as the prince's retinue thundered across the starlit plains. When they arrived, the sight chilled even Kaelen's battle-hardened soul.
The village was cloaked in flame, yet the fire cast no warmth. Dark figures writhed within the inferno, their bodies shaped from smoke and ash. Their eyes glowed red, their movements twisted mockeries of human grace.
At their center stood the escaped prisoner. His chains hung broken from his wrists, now twisted into jagged blades of shadow. His eyes glimmered silver in the firelight.
"So," he drawled, his voice carrying like a serpent's hiss, "the sun dares to rise against me."
Aelion reined in his horse, his crown glinting under the blood-red comet that still lingered faintly in the sky. "Who are you?"
The prisoner smiled, his teeth sharp as glass. "I am the other half. The shadow to your light. Did the Oracle not tell you, little prince? Where the sun burns, the shadow deepens."
He raised his hand, and the shadow soldiers surged forward.
---
Battle at the Vale
The clash was chaos. Steel met smoke, and though Kaelen's blade cut through the shadow soldiers, each one dissolved only to reform again. The villagers screamed, fleeing into the night, their homes consumed by unholy flame.
Aelion stood at the center of the storm, chanting words of the Celestial tongue his tutors had taught him. Light gathered at his palms, searing white and gold. When he released it, the blast struck the nearest shadow soldier, tearing it apart.
But even as he fought, the prisoner laughed. "You shine brightly, little sun. But do you not feel it? Every flicker of your light feeds me. For without shadow, there can be no sun."
Aelion faltered. His knees weakened under the truth of the words. The prophecy's toll beat louder in his chest.
Only one shall shine.
If the shadow grew stronger the more he fought, then how could he ever hope to win?
"Aelion!" Kaelen's voice cut through the haze. He stood protectively before the prince, his blade gleaming red with reflected fire. "Do not listen to him. He is nothing but a parasite. Your light is yours alone."
Kaelen's presence steadied him. With a trembling breath, Aelion forced the prophecy's words aside. He raised his hands again, pouring every ounce of will into a single blast of celestial fire.
The light struck the prisoner, burning away the shadow at his feet. For the first time, the smile vanished from his face.
"This is not over," the prisoner hissed, retreating into the smoke. "The shadow does not die—it only waits. And when the time comes, little prince, your light will consume you."
With that, he vanished, leaving only the echo of his laughter behind.
---
Aftermath
The village lay in ruins. Ash choked the air, and the wails of the displaced pierced the silence. Soldiers scrambled to tend the wounded, their faces pale with dread.
Aelion stood amidst the wreckage, his crown askew, his robes singed. For the first time, he felt the true weight of the prophecy pressing down upon him. The shadow had not been destroyed—only delayed.
Kaelen approached, his armor blackened, his blade notched. Yet his eyes held only concern for Aelion.
"You should not have stood at the front," Kaelen said hoarsely. "One wrong strike and—"
"And what?" Aelion whispered. "If only one of us is meant to shine, Kaelen, then perhaps it is not me. Perhaps it is him."
"No." Kaelen seized his wrist, his grip fierce, grounding. "Do not let him poison you with doubt. You are the sun, Aelion. Not him. And if fate decrees otherwise, then I will tear fate apart with my own hands."
For a heartbeat, their foreheads touched, hidden by the smoke and ruin. In the chaos of war, they found the smallest sanctuary in each other.
But far above, the comet still lingered. Watching. Waiting.