The ashes of Lorynth Vale still clung to Aelion's cloak as the royal procession returned to the palace. Behind them, smoke curled into the night sky, a grim reminder of the shadow's growing reach.
The council greeted him with applause and praise, hailing the prince's bravery for standing against the darkness. But their words tasted hollow. Aelion saw it in their eyes—their loyalty was not to him, but to the crown he bore. Every "long live the sun" was little more than a demand that he outshine the shadow, no matter the cost.
When the court was finally dismissed, Aelion remained behind in the great hall. The golden torches flickered, casting twin shadows across the marble floor—his own, and Kaelen's, who lingered just a step behind as always.
The silence between them was heavier than steel.
At last, Aelion broke it. "We cannot keep waiting for him to strike again."
Kaelen's jaw tightened. "Then you already know what must be done."
Aelion turned toward him, eyes searching. "You speak of a hunt?"
"No." Kaelen's voice was low, rough with certainty. "A journey. The priests, the oracles, even the council—they speak of prophecy as if it is scripture, immutable and cruel. But I do not believe the heavens are so simple. Somewhere, in this vast kingdom, there must be truth older than the Oracle's words. If we find it, we may learn what 'only one shall shine' truly means."
Aelion's breath caught. To leave the palace, the council, the fragile safety of walls and soldiers—that was unthinkable. And yet, he felt it too. Staying meant waiting for doom. Leaving meant grasping the chance, however slim, to shape destiny with his own hands.
"You would go with me?" Aelion whispered.
Kaelen stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "Wherever you walk, I will follow. If you fall, I will fall beside you. That is my oath."
The prince's throat ached with words he dared not speak. Instead, he let silence say them for him, their eyes locking in a promise too dangerous to name.
---
The Pilgrim's Path
Three nights later, cloaked in secrecy, they left the palace. Only a handful of trusted soldiers accompanied them, sworn to silence under pain of death. The council believed Aelion was retreating to a distant temple for prayer; in truth, he was setting foot upon the Pilgrim's Path, an ancient road once walked by kings and gods alike.
The path stretched northward, through lands steeped in legend. To follow it was to retrace the steps of the Celestial Ancestors, the demigods who first bound the heavens and earth in covenant. Somewhere along this path, Kaelen believed, lay the key to unraveling the prophecy.
On the first night of travel, their company camped beneath a sky ablaze with stars. The fire crackled, and shadows danced across Aelion's face as he sat beside Kaelen.
"Tell me," Aelion asked quietly, "what drives you to believe the prophecy can be defied?"
Kaelen gazed into the flames. "Because I have seen how words can be twisted. My clan…" His voice faltered, but he forced it onward. "They said we were cursed. That no warrior of my bloodline would ever die with honor. My father believed it. He wasted away, waiting for doom. But I… I swore I would not let a curse define me. If I must die, it will be because I fought to protect what I chose, not because some priest told me so."
Aelion's chest tightened. "And what is it you choose to protect?"
Kaelen's eyes lifted, meeting his. In the starlight, the truth was there—raw, unguarded. But before he could speak it, a soldier called from the edge of camp, breaking the moment.
Still, the words hung unspoken between them, like the string of a bow pulled taut.
---
The Temple of Echoes
On the fifth day, they reached the Temple of Echoes, carved into a mountain's face. Its halls were vast and empty, its walls etched with glowing constellations. Here, it was said, the voices of the first gods lingered still.
The high priestess who greeted them was older than any mortal had right to be. Her eyes were clouded white, yet they saw too much.
"You seek the prophecy," she rasped, her voice carrying as though a hundred others whispered with her. "The sun and the shadow. The words that bind kings."
Aelion's pulse quickened. "Then you know their meaning?"
The priestess turned toward the star-carved walls. "The Oracle of your court speaks but fragments. The full prophecy is older—buried beneath centuries of fear. Hear it now, in its true tongue."
She lifted her hands, and her voice became many. The temple walls trembled, the constellations glowing brighter as though the stars themselves leaned closer to listen.
> "When the heavens birth a flame,
Two shall rise—sun and shadow,
Bound as one, yet fated to war.
Only one shall shine…
And the other be consumed."
The words fell like stone into silence.
Aelion staggered back. His worst fears, spoken with divine weight.
But Kaelen caught his arm, steadying him. "Prophecies speak in riddles. To shine could mean many things. Light can guide—but it can also burn. And shadow does not always mean evil. Sometimes it shelters."
The priestess tilted her head, her pale eyes unreadable. "Perhaps your guard sees more clearly than kings or priests. Remember this: prophecy binds only those who surrender to it."
Her cryptic smile lingered as she turned away, vanishing into the temple's depths.
---
Night of Confession
That night, beneath the temple's towering statues, Aelion lay awake. The words of the prophecy carved into his bones. Only one shall shine. To accept it meant Kaelen's destruction—or his own. To deny it meant defiance against gods.
A soft sound broke his thoughts—the quiet shuffle of armor. He turned to find Kaelen sitting near, watching him with the same unyielding patience he always had.
"You haven't slept," Kaelen murmured.
"Neither have you."
They shared a faint smile. Then Aelion whispered, voice raw, "Kaelen… if it comes to it—if the prophecy demands it—promise me you will not throw your life away for me."
Kaelen froze. "That is the one promise I cannot give."
Aelion's heart thudded painfully. "Why?"
Kaelen leaned closer, his words a fierce whisper meant only for him. "Because my life was never mine to keep. From the day I swore my oath, it has belonged to you. Not the crown. Not the council. You."
The fire between them flared, undeniable. Aelion's hand trembled as it reached for Kaelen's, their fingers brushing before clasping tight.
"Kaelen…" His name was a prayer, a plea. "If fate decrees only one of us may shine… then let us burn together, until the heavens themselves are blinded."
For the first time, Kaelen allowed himself to close the distance. Their foreheads touched, breath mingling in the silence of the temple. No prophecy, no crown, no gods—only two souls choosing each other in defiance of all.
And in that stolen moment, the stars themselves seemed to falter.
---
The Gathering Storm
But fate was not idle.
Far from the temple, in a cavern of endless night, the escaped prisoner knelt before a shadowed altar. His broken chains had fused into armor of living darkness, and his silver eyes burned with cruel purpose.
"The sun seeks truth," he murmured, hearing whispers no mortal could hear. "Good. Let him. For every step he takes toward the light, I shall meet him with deeper shadow."
He raised his hands, and from the black stone floor rose figures cloaked in darkness—not mere smoke this time, but men and women of flesh and blood, twisted by his power.
"The prophecy has begun," the prisoner whispered, a smile cutting across his face. "And soon, the heavens will learn that shadow does not serve the sun. It devours it."
The cavern shook with the rising chorus of his new army, their voices echoing into the night.