Rain lashed against the walls of the crumbling tower, a symphony of chaos echoing through the abandoned corridors. Thunder split the night sky, illuminating the broken banners of a kingdom that had long forgotten its heir. Prince Kael—or rather, the world had tried to erase him—stood at the edge of the rooftop, rain soaking his clothes, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon.
He was alone. Or so it seemed.
Kael's hand traced the cold edge of the stone parapet, feeling the rough scars of history beneath his fingertips. Memories of that fateful day—betrayal, fire, screams—flooded back. His father's dying words echoed in his mind, brittle but resolute: "Survive, Kael. Reclaim what is yours, but beware… not all allies are friends."
A bitter wind cut through him. Survival had been costly. He had fled the castle under the cover of darkness, his royal insignia burned into ash, his name whispered in fear and mockery. The guards who had sworn loyalty now hunted him as an enemy. Yet, even soaked and shivering, Kael's chest burned with a strange clarity.
He would return. He would take back everything that had been stolen from him. But first… he needed allies, power, and secrets no one else could uncover.
Kael leapt from the parapet, landing in the mud-soaked courtyard with a quiet grace that belied the chaos around him. His boots sank into the puddles, splashing dark water into the ruins. A figure emerged from the shadows, cloaked and silent, and Kael tensed.
"Who's there?" His voice was steady, but inside, his heart hammered.
"Relax, Prince," the figure said, stepping into the dim lantern light. A woman, eyes sharp and calculating, smiled faintly. Her hair clung to her face in the rain. "You've drawn attention you can't handle alone."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "And you are?"
"Let's just say… someone who knows the truth of this kingdom better than anyone else. And someone who can help you survive the night."
Suspicion gripped him, but instinct told him she spoke truth. Trust was a currency Kael had learned to spend sparingly. "Why help me?" he asked, voice low.
"Because if you die tonight," she said, tilting her head, "so does everything you think you knew about your family… and the throne."
Before Kael could respond, the sound of hooves thundered through the broken gates. Soldiers—black-armored, loyal only to the new regime—rushed forward, weapons glinting under the storm's flashes of lightning.
Kael's hand went to the hilt of his father's blade, now nicked and heavy, but still sharp. The woman beside him drew two daggers from her belt, their edges catching the moonlight.
"You'll have to trust me," she said.
Kael didn't have a choice. Together, they dashed through narrow alleys and over ruined bridges, soldiers in hot pursuit. Each corner revealed more danger—collapsed walls, hidden traps, and echoes of the past that seemed almost alive in the storm. Kael's mind raced. Every move had to be precise; a single mistake would end him tonight.
They reached the edge of the city walls, where the forest stretched like a dark ocean beyond. The woman paused. "From here, you go alone. But remember—every step you take is a step toward power… and toward those who will betray you."
Kael's chest rose and fell rapidly. He wanted answers, vengeance, and the chance to reclaim his throne. But tonight, survival was the first step.
As he disappeared into the shadows of the forest, the rain began to ease, leaving only the distant rumble of thunder. Behind him, the city burned—not from fire alone, but from the flames of betrayal and ambition. And somewhere in the dark, eyes watched him.
Eyes that were neither friend nor foe… but would shape his destiny.
Kael didn't know it yet, but the storm had only just begun.