The dawn bells tolled across Aeloria, their chimes spilling over stone walls and winding streets like threads of silver fire. In the palace, where banners of crimson and gold hung heavy with dew, the sound was swallowed by silence. The king's council had already gathered, their voices hushed, their eyes darting to the high throne as if expecting thunder.
King Aldric of Aeloria sat with his crown tilted slightly forward, as though the weight of it pressed deeper than bone. His face was pale, lined by years of rule that demanded obedience but little wisdom. To his right stood Chancellor Varrow, a gaunt figure draped in robes as dark as midnight ink. Few knew his true name—fewer still dared whisper it—but all obeyed him. For he had the king's ear, and where Varrow's voice slithered, the king's decrees followed.
"Your Majesty," Varrow murmured, breaking the silence with the smoothness of oil poured over glass. "The northern watch reports movement beyond the Silverwood. Wolves where none should dwell. Smoke on the horizon. The omens grow… restless."
The nobles shifted uneasily. They feared the word "omens" more than they feared swords.
King Aldric's hand tightened on the throne's armrest. "And what would you have me do, Chancellor? Double the guard? Send riders?"
Varrow's thin lips curved. "Your Majesty, the curse of the Shadow King stirs again. It would be folly to deny it. What Aeloria needs now is not mere soldiers. It needs obedience. Fear. And a strong hand to crush whispers before they spread."
A murmur rippled across the chamber. Fear always followed his words like a shadow trailing light.
At the far end of the hall, Prince Kael entered. His cloak was freshly laundered, his stance proud, but the faint stiffness of his shoulder betrayed the wound hidden beneath. None would guess the healer's touch had saved his life only hours before, save for the secret burning in his mind.
He strode forward, ignoring Varrow's satisfied smirk. "Father," Kael said, bowing his head just enough to satisfy formality, "the people need hope, not fear. If they believe only in shadows, the shadows will consume them."
Varrow's eyes gleamed, sharp as a serpent's strike. "And what would you suggest, my prince? A feast while beasts roam the forest? A song to ward away curses?"
Kael's jaw tightened. He met the Chancellor's gaze without flinching. "I suggest truth. If wolves gather, let us face them. If curses rise, let us fight them. Fear is a weapon that turns against the hand that wields it."
The chamber went still. The king shifted uneasily, caught between his son's fire and his chancellor's poison.
Varrow inclined his head, but his smile did not fade. "Bravery is admirable in youth. But kingdoms are not saved by swords alone. They are kept by those willing to guard secrets… even from their own blood."
Kael felt the weight of the words like a dagger aimed at his back. He bowed slightly, but inside, his resolve hardened. Secrets had nearly claimed his life last night. If the kingdom truly stood on the edge of darkness, then it was time those secrets were torn into the light.
But first, he had to find the healer.
The one who had bound her fate to his.