The chaos of the throne room—the screams, the clash of steel—slowly faded into a dull hum in my mind. I didn't know how I had ended up here, sitting in a secluded corridor, my back pressed against the cold stone wall. Lia crouched beside me, her wings trembling weakly, her face streaked with tears. The world I had known had crumbled in a single day, and the weight of grief pressed down on my chest.
Yet, as my gaze wandered to the cracks in the wall, something entirely different arose within me: a memory, vivid as if it had happened only yesterday.
I was still a child. We were playing in the courtyard—Nareth, Lia, and I. Sunlight danced across the castle's crystal walls, sparkling off our wings. Nareth had already been like our father: serious, disciplined, always trying to command us as if he had been born to rule. Lia, with her charm, delighted everyone, laughing as she flitted from one flower to another, her wings leaving trails of light as if butterflies followed her.
I, however… I was different. While the others engaged in playful duels with wooden swords or practiced ceremonial dances, I was drawn to old books and hidden corridors. That day, I slipped away to the far end of the garden, where my mother sat, long golden hair cascading over her shoulders, a worn book resting in her lap.
"You've wandered off again," she said, smiling at me. "Your siblings are probably looking for you."
"They're better at everything," I muttered. "Nareth fights like he was born a soldier, and Lia… everyone loves her. I'm not like them."
My mother closed the book and drew me onto her lap. Her eyes held no reproach, only endless patience."Being different doesn't make you less," she said. She reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out a small amulet. A silver chain held it, a faintly glowing stone at its center, as if it contained its own light. "This was mine when I was young. They said I was weak because I didn't fit in. But it was exactly my difference that gave me strength."
She fastened the chain around my neck, the small stone cool against my skin."You are not like Nareth, and you are not like Lia. And that is how it should be. One day, you'll see that your difference is what will make you strong," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.
The wind whispered through the garden leaves, and I did not fully understand her words at the time. But now, years later, as the crown had been stolen, and my parents lay lifeless, her words echoed within me. Perhaps she had always known that my path would be unlike my siblings'.
My fingers instinctively went to the amulet still resting at my neck. The stone was cold against my skin, just as it had been that day when my mother had placed it there. For a moment, I closed my eyes and let the warmth of the past soften the harsh reality pressing down on me.
When I opened them again, the corridor looked different, as if traces of the lingering fog still hung in the air. Lia stood quietly beside me, but something compelled me to lift my gaze.
And then I saw him.
He emerged from the shadows, silently, as though he had formed from the darkness itself. Tall, draped in a black cloak, with pale wings unfurling behind him—not delicate or translucent like a fae's, but strong, luminous, as if spun from moonlight itself.
His hair was short, stark white, catching the faint light of the corridor. What truly held my attention, however, was the tattoo beginning at his neck, intricate dark patterns that traced down beneath his cloak. They gave the impression of forbidden power, of a history etched into his very skin.
Our eyes met, and the air seemed to freeze. There was no pity, no malice in them—only an inscrutable force that both terrified and drew me in. For the first time, I felt that someone unknown, whom I ought to fear, could somehow also feel uncannily familiar.
"Who are you?" I whispered before I could stop myself.
He didn't answer immediately. He took a single step forward, his wings stirring silently, and stood before me like a riddle my heart was already seeking to solve.