I had grown up within these halls for as long as memory allowed — which was practically forever. Once, they were radiant, sacred, alive. The walls shimmered with golden light, etched with stories that danced when the sun touched them. The air used to hum with warmth, like a lullaby sung by angels. At least, that is what I was made to believe, for I had never seen them.
But I was always the odd one out, not by choice but by design. Expectations towered within these walls because of the crown I carried, the royal blood that pulsed through my veins. Yet how could a boy born an outcast ever change the perception etched into the minds of those repulsed by his existence?
Their reason for despising me was justifiable, or so I told myself, and so I kept my mouth shut. The lastborn of the royal blood — hailed to be the sweetest, the purest — was born different. And difference, in these halls, was a sin
Today, everything felt more wrong than usual. The air was thick, sour, still — like the breath of something buried. It clung to my skin, crawled into my lungs, whispered warnings I couldn't decipher.
The walls no longer told stories. They murmured in a tongue I didn't recognize… yet somehow knew. Not just ancient, but intimate. Familiar enough to make my bones itch.
The hallway that once echoed with laughter now pulsed with wails. Lost souls drifted through the corridors, hollow, whispering fragments I could not understand. They stirred something quiet inside me — not hunger, not yet. Just a pull. A question without form.
The pillars, once proud and blooming, now stood pale and bloodstained. The murals had faded into shadows. Silence was no longer peaceful — it was watching me. Everything urged me to flee. But I stayed. I listened.
I walked into the garden that had once been a sanctuary. My mother's love had shaped it — every vine, every petal radiant with divine intention. The garden sang in colors that made you believe the gods still watched.
Now, that song was hollow. Vines curled like mourning ribbons, petals dulled to ash. Flowers recoiled from touch, terrified of warmth.
In the clearing, the grass lay brittle and gray beneath the moon's glow. Spirits here did not whisper — they sang. Not of power, but of dreams denied. Their melody was haunting, yet beautiful, a song of longing that reached into the marrow.
I sat among the withered blades. Beneath the soil, something pulsed — faint, steady, ancient. I let the song of the dead wash over me, and without meaning to, I hummed. Their sorrow was softer than the palace's agony, more human. A spark still lived in their song.
The melodies of the palace and the garden did not clash. They coexisted, dusk and night, memory and dream. And that was what unsettled me most. If the ground trembled, it was not because of them. It was because something older, deeper, far more dangerous had begun to stir. And I had already begun to answer its call.
…
"My Lord," the servant intoned, bowing deeply. His immaculate white garments were fastened with a gleaming golden sash.
He turned, his eyes pale. "Stephan, is that you?"
"Yes, my lord…" Stephan looked up, wondering why he asked. He jerked back surprised upon what he saw. "My Prince… Your eyes…"
He sighed. "Stephan, do not act new to this." He sat back down.
"My lord, should you not seek the Royal Physician's help? I am afraid you might lose your sight." Stephan said, worried.
"I value your concern," he said, his tone grave, "but it's far too dangerous. The Royal Physician owes his loyalty to the queen alone. Seeking his help would be the same as confessing everything to her—and that, I cannot risk."
"You still do not want her majesty to know?" Stephan asked.
He inclined his head. "Her Majesty is already weighed down with matters of the kingdom. I would not trouble her with something so minor," he said, standing. "Has she summoned me?"
Stephan dipped his head. "Indeed, my lord. The queen has summoned you and your brothers to join her for breakfast."
"Breakfast? With the family? Must be something serious." He sighed.
"Will my lord be okay?"
"I'm not a weak kitten anymore, Stephan," he said, his smile tight and unconvincing. "And if it gets out of control… you'll step in, won't you?"
With swift steps, Stephan reached him, nodding fiercely. "I swear it, my lord—I'll defend you to my dying breath."
He finally chuckled. "You?" Then he shook his head. "Thank you, Stephan. Shall we…?"
Stephan nodded, then bowed. "Yes, my lord."
As they walked, Stephan could tell that something was off with his master. "My lord, are you nervous?" Stephan asked from behind him.
"Nervous? About what?"
"Your brother's…"
"But you already asked."
"I did but…" He began to fidget with the hem of his cloth, a nervous habit he developed whenever he confronted the prince with worry.
"They can't harm me with her majesty around you, and even if they try, I have you by my side to save the day as always." He smiled.
They arrived before a towering golden door — though, truth be told, every door in the palace bore the same regal hue. What set them apart were the intricate carvings etched into their surfaces, each one a silent storyteller. Like the murals on the walls and the embroidered curtains, these carvings whispered tales of old — tales cloaked in mystery, known only to the Flame of Dawn, Aureon, and the radiant, wise Queen Nyara.
The doors slowly opened, revealing a grand and spacious dining hall. At its heart lay a massive table, encircled by chairs carved from trees that once grew deep within an ancient forest. The wood still carried the scent of fresh air and serenity, as if the forest itself had followed them inside.
"Ah, Prince Lucen, welcome. Join us." Queen Nyara invited, her voice soft like an echo in a dense forest full of life.
He bowed and sat down across the dining table, directly facing Her Highness. The air between them was thick with tension, the quiet almost deafening.
"My sons, let me begin by welcoming you all back home from your exploits."
"We humbly respond, Queen Nyara." The brothers chorused.
"How are the affairs of the palace, my queen?" Solmir — the first prince — asked, bowing his head.
"Fine and well attended to, Son of Orion," Queen Nyara said, her gaze steady. "I assumed your question stemmed from curiosity, wondering why I summoned you and your brothers here."
"Yes, my queen." Solmir answered.
"Solara has received word from Noxmere…" Queen Nyara began, her introduction alerting the brothers as Lucen continued to play with his food.
"It was with regards to The Soulborne Academy. They sent a command to enroll Noxmere's Treasure — Princess Nyrael, Daughter of the Null-light."
The brothers' heads turned in surprise, hoping that they had misheard what the queen had just said.
"What? Why, my queen?" Solmir asked, surprised.
"For that, I can not tell." She answered, then turned to the fourth prince. "Son of Cepheus, has anything come up?"
"No, my queen. My visions have been distorted since the last one…" Veyr said with a tinge in his tone as the brothers turned to face Lucen, who was now busy creating a fork castle, Stephan helping him set up the forks, carefully and steadily.
Solmir rolled his eyes before turning to Queen Nyara. "Why now? Noxmere has ruled over us for decades. What pushed them to make such a decision?"
"I do not know for certain, but if I were to make a guess, Noxmere might not trust us entirely to run the Academy. They may believe that we are raising an army against them, which is not the case." Queen Nyara explained.
"What if the Academy is indeed raising students who would rebel against Noxmere, my queen?" Caelir, the second prince, speculated. "After all, Noxmere has ruled over Solara for eons, yet they seek to enroll a student, none other than the Daughter of the Null-light, now? Noxmere might have heard something."
"Who would be stupid enough to go against the queen's orders to plan such a thing?" Nerai, the sixth prince, asked.
"People who are fed up with being oppressed by Noxmere. People who still believe that their queen has turned against them." Lucen answered, focusing intensely on adding some final touches to his fork castle.
"Lucen, how dare you speak disrespectfully in the presence of the queen?" Aurelian, the third prince, roared.
Lucen rolled his eyes. "Oh, please… You did not expect me to attend this family reunion and keep my mouth shut when something is this obvious."
"You Brat!" Aurelian was ready to lunge to give him a piece of his mind, with fists, when Caelir stopped him, fixing his glasses like a nerdy villain straight from a manga series.
"Can you not see that your brothers remain quiet while the eldest talks? Or it's because you think you are 'special', important, formed by the delusions of your shallow mind trying desperately to hide your pitiful loneliness?" Caelir said in a voice so soft but toxic.
Lucen began to fume, trying so hard to keep his cool.
"You are nothing but the worthless unknown. Know your place." Caelir continued with a victorious chuckle.
"Enough!" Queen Nyara's voice rang sharp across the hall. "I did not summon you all to witness another one of your petty exchanges." Her gaze swept the table like a blade. "I've called you here because I have made a decision. Lucen will be enrolled in the Soulborne Academy."
The room turned somewhat chaotic. Glasses shattered. Food flew. Gasps burst from the mouths of stunned maids. Shock rippled across the table, freezing every face in place.
"HUH?!" the brothers cried in unison, their heads snapping toward the boy at the far end of the table.
Lucen sat frozen, clutching the towering fork palace centerpiece as if shielding it from the chaos.
"Why are you staring?" he asked, his eyes flicking from face to face.
"Thirteen lights, born beneath the Crown of Dawn. Twelve will rise. One will burn. And only the veiled flame shall remain;
Crowned by the dead, desired by the living — the soul that walks between shall break the silence and burn the dawn."