Keeper Of Two Worlds

The Princess Without Power

At the Palace of Eternal Darkness, that day was different from usual.

​The Arena of Shadows–a vast, black-stoned field in the palace’s backyard–was filled with hundreds of noble families from all corners of the Shadow World. They had come to witness the Annual Youth Tournament, a showcase of skill for children aged six to ten. This was a long-awaited day. A day when parents took pride, children competed, and rulers assessed the promising talents of the future.

​On the palace balcony towering high above the arena stood three figures.

​King Kaelen Arkanis sat on his black stone throne. His evening robe fluttered in the cold wind blowing through the mountain passes. Beside him, Queen Seraphina Valdris sat gracefully, her black gown shimmering with tiny crystals embedded in the fabric. And between them, on a smaller chair, sat Princess Elara.

​The little girl wore a deep purple dress with a silver ribbon at her waist. Her jet-black hair was neatly styled by the palace maids, adorned with a crescent-shaped hairpin made of pure silver. But behind her beautiful appearance, her gaze was vacant. Sad. Empty.

​Down below, children her age began lining up in the arena. They wore light battle attire, their faces full of enthusiasm and confidence.

​“The first contestant,” the announcer’s voice boomed through the crystal loudspeakers embedded in the stone pillars. “From the Northern Shadow Clan, the son of Lord Vex, named Darian Vex.”

​A gray-haired boy stepped forward. He raised both hands into the air. In an instant, his own shadow stretched out from the ground, forming a terrifying, gigantic figure. The shadow raised its fist and struck a massive boulder in the center of the arena. The boulder shattered into pieces.

​The cheers roared.

​Elara looked down. Her hands clutched the hem of her dress tightly.

​“Amazing, Darian!” shouted a woman from the crowd. “My son is so talented!”

​On the balcony, Queen Seraphina turned her head to the side. She saw her daughter standing silently, her lips pursed slightly. Seraphina reached out and gently took Elara’s hand.

​“Sweetheart,” Seraphina whispered softly. “You don’t have to participate. You’re just watching. No one’s forcing you.”

​Elara nodded, but her eyes remained fixed on the arena. There, the other children were taking turns demonstrating their powers.

​Among the contestants, some were able to transform their bodies into black mist; others could create sharp swords from their own shadows; while still others merely had to look at their opponents to put them to sleep instantly, and quite a few possessed the ability to warp the space around them, making it seem as though they had teleported in the blink of an eye.

​Every time a child finished demonstrating their ability, applause and shouts of admiration filled the air. Parents embraced their children proudly. The nobles whispered among themselves, evaluating and comparing.

​And Elara remained silent. She couldn’t do any of those things.

​“The seventeenth contestant,” the announcer’s voice echoed once more. “From the Eastern Shadow Palace, His Majesty the King’s nephew, named Aldric Valdris.”

​Elara lifted her head. Aldric, her cousin, stepped into the center of the arena. His black robes were neat, his curly hair fluttering slightly. His face was calm, not arrogant like the other children. He looked up toward the balcony, straight at Elara, and gave a small smile.

​Elara smiled back. Just a little.

​Aldric raised his right hand. From his own shadow, a large shield took shape–jet-black, gleaming like polished obsidian. But Aldric didn’t stop there. He moved his left hand, and from the shadow behind him, a long sword appeared, hovering in the air.

​A shield and a sword. Two powers at once.

​The arena roared with applause. Even King Kaelen nodded proudly. “Aldric is making great strides,” he said softly to the Queen.

​Seraphina smiled, but her eyes returned to Elara. Her daughter was still smiling at Aldric, but behind that smile lay something that pierced the queen’s heart.

​"Are you all right, dear?" Seraphina asked.

​Elara nodded. "Aldric is amazing, Mother."

​"You’re amazing too, in your own way."

​Elara didn’t answer. She just stared at her own hands–her small, soft, empty hands. No power. No shadow extending from them. No sword materialized.

​In the arena, Aldric lowered his shield and sword. He bowed respectfully to the king and queen, then stepped out of the arena. Halfway across the arena, he glanced up at the balcony once more.

​Elara raised her hand and gave a small wave.

​Aldric waved back.

​But then, from within the crowd, a young boy shouted loudly enough to be heard.

​“Look! Princess Elara is up there! Why doesn’t she come down? They say she has no power!”

​Several children turned toward the balcony. Whispers began to spread like wildfire.

​“The crown princess has no power?”

​“Really? That’s strange. How can the heir to the throne have no power?”

​“Poor thing. Beautiful but weak.”

​The voices weren’t very loud, but the cold wind of the Shadow World carried the sounds everywhere–including to the palace balcony.

​Elara bit her lip. Her hand, clutching the hem of her gown, began to tremble. Tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes.

​Queen Seraphina immediately stood up. Her expression turned stern. But before she could speak, King Kaelen raised his hand.

​“Orin Vex,” the king called in a deep voice. “Pause the match for a moment. Summon those children who are whispering. I wish to speak with them.”

​Orin Vex, the Shadow Guard standing in the corner of the balcony, immediately bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

​But Elara shook her head quickly. “No, Father. Don’t!”

​King Kaelen turned to look at her. “Elara?”

​“Just let it be,” Elara said softly, almost inaudibly. “They’re right. I really don’t have any power. There’s no need to be punished for telling the truth.”

​The king and queen exchanged glances. A shared pang of pain pierced their hearts.

​Elara bowed her head. Tears fell one by one onto her lap. She wasn’t crying out loud. She just sat there in silence, as usual.

​“I’m sorry, I just want to go back to my room.”

​Without waiting for a reply, Elara got up from her chair. She walked slowly away from the balcony, leaving behind the bustling arena, leaving behind the cheers and applause that weren’t meant for her.

​Behind her, Queen Seraphina closed her eyes. Tears also fell from her eyes—tears she shed only when no one was watching.

​“What have we done?” Seraphina whispered to her husband. “We brought her into this world, gave her the throne, but we couldn’t give her strength. We couldn’t protect her from cruel words.”

​King Kaelen did not answer. His hands gripped the armrests of the throne so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

​In her silent room, Elara sat on the edge of the bed. The shadows of the room enveloped her—dark, cold, and lonely.

​Elara looked at her hands once more. “Am I really worthless?”

​In the distance, the cheers from the arena could still be heard. Another child was displaying their strength. There was applause. There was pride.

​None of it was for Elara.

​The little girl lay on her bed, pulling the blanket up over her head. In the darkness, she cried silently. She didn’t know why she was different. She didn’t know where she came from.

​All she knew was that there was an empty void in her chest that could never be filled.

​Meanwhile, in the arena, the competition continued. And on the balcony, the King and Queen sat in silence, watching with broken hearts.