Thunder boomed over the Silvermoon Realm. Silver lightning split the sky, mirroring the crest the Von Silvermoon line had bled for over five hundred years. Wind screamed through the palace walls, dragging the sharp scent of rain and wild moonbloom down from the northern cliffs. Duncan didn’t notice. He dragged his feet down the west corridor. Bandages pulled tight over his ribs. Dust and dried mud caked his torn white cloak. The dark stains across the fabric weren’t his. Three days. No sleep. Just him and the shadow beasts at the border, carving until his bones screamed, until his muscles felt like they were on fire. All so this godsforsaken kingdom could sleep safe.In his right hand, he crushed a small velvet box. Knuckles white. The fabric tore under his fingers.Inside lay the Pendant of the Pure Moon. The oldest treasure of their house. Forged from starlight and the blood of the first Alpha King. It was only given to the true partner of the heir. An oath. Forever. The last bit o

The main courtyard stretched wide. White stone from the Northern cliffs shimmered under the sun like crushed pearl. Hundreds of students in deep indigo uniforms stood in rows, whispering, craning their necks for a glimpse of the royals. Above the podium, the royal standard snapped in the wind. Two silver wolves before a waxing moon. The crest of Von Silvermoon.Gareth walked one step ahead of Duncan. On purpose. Heads turned. Nobles murmured. Everyone saw the future king. He waved, smiled, drank it all in. Years of practice.He didn’t notice the eyes drifting to the brother behind him.Duncan didn’t try to be seen. He just walked. But the air around him was heavier. Older. Students and servants stepped aside without knowing why. Through the Eye of Truth, the masks fell. Green drive in common kids who’d fought to be here. Brown envy in noble sons who hated easy privilege. Gray fear in those with no name to protect them. And jagged red hate in the few already loyal to Gare

Silver lanterns hung over the academy paths. Their light threw long shadows across white stone. Duncan walked slow toward the North Wing dorms.Cold wind came down from the northern peaks. It smelled like pine and moonflowers. The flowers only bloomed under a full moon. He didn’t notice. Lyra’s words were stuck in his head. 'Black bone amulet. Shadow magic. Poison that matched his mother’s.'For ten years he doubted the story of her death. Queen Seraphina. The best mana healer in the realm. Sharp. Honest. She hated corruption even in the highest houses. She died when he was six. The story was simple. Carriage slipped on ice. Fell into a ravine. Everyone bought it.Now he saw what didn’t fit. No skid marks. Wood on the carriage stained black. Every witness transferred to far outposts within a month.If Gareth was involved back then, he didn’t do it alone. No prince learns forbidden magic by himself. Not arts banned since the realm was founded. Someone older. Stronger. Pu

Two days since the throne room. Silvermoon Palace was silent. Too silent.No public announcement. No trial. King Alaric locked it all down. Only 12 people had access to the archives now. New guards at every gate. Chosen for loyalty, not name. Every house tied to Valerius was being watched. Letters read. Steps tracked. No one knew how deep it went.Duncan stood on the balcony of the West Wing. Cold wind from the north. Pine. Wet earth. Mist on the trees. He’d just come from the dungeons.Gareth was in a cell warded with silver runes. No magic. No talking. He sat in the corner. Silk clothes dirty. Face hollow. He didn’t look up. Through the Eye of Truth, Duncan saw it. Rage. Shame. All of it eating him alive. He lost everything.In the next cell, Duke Valerius stood waiting. Calm. Eyes bright. Like this was a meeting, not a prison.“You think this ends it?” Valerius said. Soft. Sure. “You pulled one thread, nephew. This web is three generations old. Every court. Every

A biting gale hit them on the plateau. Snow and ice in their faces. Below, the horror spread out in front of the cavern.Violet light surged from the center of a circle. So bright the snow hissed and turned to steam. The ground throbbed with it. Like the whole mountain had a heartbeat.“Three hundred,” Mara whispered. “All high shadow mages. We charge in, we die.”Duncan used the Eye of Truth. At the heart of the ring, in front of a rune-carved gate, stood a black obsidian altar. Five crystal pillars burned violet around it. Between them was one empty groove. Shaped for a single drop of royal blood.“They’re waiting for me,” Duncan said. Quiet. “All the power they drained in the north... It was just prep. The final lock only opens for a Von Silvermoon heir.”Lyra gripped her sword. “Then we hit them now. Cut the flow before the seal breaks.”Elara shook her head. Fast. Pale. “Don’t cross that line. It’s not a ring of guards. It’s a web. Step past the edge and it drains