The palace of Aramore was a marvel to behold. Its golden spires pierced the heavens like arrows of light, its marble walls gleamed under the moon, and its courtyards sprawled with fountains that whispered secrets only the winds could hear. To the outside world, it was a place of grandeur, justice, and peace yet behind its jeweled gates, whispers of betrayal coiled like serpents in the dark.On this fateful night, the palace corridors were unusually quiet. Even the guards who patrolled with polished spears moved with heavy steps, as though the air itself was weighed down with foreboding. Within the Queen’s chambers, however, silence was broken by the restless pacing of Lady Mirantha, the King’s second wife. Her eyes glistened with cold fury as she stared into the flickering firelight.For months she had nursed a secret hatred. The King’s first wife, Queen Selene, had given him a son Kayan, barely five years old. That child was everything Mirantha’s heart envied: the heir, the apple of

The restless nights had grown unbearable. Ever since the Festival of Unity, Kayan could not rid his mind of the palace gates, of the cries of the people, and of the glimpse he thought he saw an older man watching him from above, eyes filled with something he could not name. Hope? Longing? Recognition?“Mother,” Kayan said one dawn, breaking the silence as Elara ground herbs by the fire, “I must go.”Elara stilled, her hand hovering over the pestle. “Go where?”“To the city. To the palace,” Kayan said, his voice resolute. “I cannot live all my life wondering why I feel as though I belong there. Something calls me, and I must answer.”Fear clouded Elara’s face. She had known this day would come the day destiny would tug her son away from her. Yet her heart ached. “Kayan… the palace is not kind. It is not what you dream it to be.”“Then let me see for myself,” he said softly. “You taught me courage. Do not deny me this path.”Tears welled in her eyes, but she could not chain him to the f

The morning after the feast dawned bright, but the palace of Aramore seemed forever changed. The air buzzed with whispers; servants murmured in corners, nobles sent messages across provinces, and the city itself erupted with songs of joy. The lost prince had returned.Kayan woke not in the servants’ quarters, but in a chamber fit for royalty. His bed was draped in silk, the walls adorned with golden vines, and attendants rushed to serve his every need. Yet he sat upon the edge of the bed, restless, his hands clenched.He was no longer Kayan the cleaner, the healer’s son. He was Prince Kayan of Aramore, heir to a throne he had never sought.The weight was suffocating.A Son ReclaimedHis father, King Aldren, came to him at dawn. For nineteen years, the King’s shoulders had borne grief like a yoke; now, his eyes shone with hope. He clasped Kayan’s hands firmly.“My son,” he said, voice thick with emotion, “I have searched every corner of the land for you. To hold you again” His voice br

The palace of Aramore shimmered with gold and light as if determined to blind the world from the shadows festering within. Banners of crimson and silver hung from the great halls. The air was thick with music, the clash of drums and horns meant to proclaim victory, meant to drown out the whispers of treachery.For tonight, the kingdom celebrated. The festival of the Twin Moons had come, an ancient holiday meant to honor balance and peace. But peace was the last thing that reigned in Aramore.Kayan walked through the corridors, the heavy robe of a prince draped on his shoulders, yet his heart was restless. Everywhere he turned, he felt eyes upon him some warm with loyalty, others cold and calculating. He could not shake the sense that the festival was less a celebration and more… a trap.Selene, his mother, clung close to him, her hand gripping his arm with quiet desperation. “Stay near me tonight,” she whispered. “Promise me, Kayan. There are forces at work that even your father canno

The night sky above Aramore was streaked with red, as though the heavens themselves bled fire. The ambush at the northern watchtower had shattered the fragile peace Kayan thought he had gained. He stood in the midst of smoke and ruin, his sword trembling in his grasp, his breath ragged. Liora clung to his arm, her dress torn from the struggle, her eyes wide with shock. Around them, the bodies of soldiers both loyal and treacherous littered the bloodstained stone.The boy who had once been nothing more than a servant in this palace now stood drenched in the cost of survival. For the first time, he felt the crushing weight of being heir not in crowns or jewels, but in blood.The Aftermath of the Ambush“Get them to the healers!” a captain barked, dragging a wounded soldier from the rubble.Kayan barely heard him. His mind still echoed with the clash of steel, the screams of men dying in shadows, the hiss of arrows fired from unseen hands. He remembered how close Liora had come to death