THE FORGOTTEN HEIR

THE STORM BREAKS

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 cannot control.”

He nodded, though unease rippled within him. Selene’s gaze was sharp, haunted by nineteen years of guilt. She had not forgotten the night she lost him, and she would not lose him again.

The Ritual of the Shadow Seer

Far from the glowing lanterns of the palace, in the depths of a ruined crypt, the Shadow Seer prepared his spell. Black candles flickered, their flames bending unnaturally against the windless chamber. A circle of blood marked the floor, symbols etched in ash and bone.

Mirantha stood nearby, her gown flowing like spilled ink. She had abandoned her queenly grace for raw hunger, her eyes burning with impatience.

“Will it be done tonight?” she demanded.

The Shadow Seer’s voice was a hiss, inhuman and hollow. “The boy carries the mark of the First King. Such blood is stubborn. To sever it, a great sacrifice is required.”

“I have already given gold, secrets, and blood!” Mirantha snarled. “What more do you want?”

The Seer’s hollow eyes fixed upon her. “I want what you hold most dear. Blood born of your blood.”

For a heartbeat, Mirantha’s face faltered. But then, slowly, a twisted smile curved her lips. “If my son must bleed so I may rule, then so be it.”

The Festival’s Mask

Back in the palace, the festival unfurled in full splendor. Nobles danced, goblets overflowed, laughter rang hollow beneath jeweled ceilings. But Kayan noticed the cracks the guards’ nervous hands on their hilts, the nobles who avoided his gaze, the flicker of shadows too quick for torchlight.

Liora found him near the garden arches, away from the press of dancers. She wore a simple gown, her beauty unhidden by jewels. “You don’t belong in there,” she said softly.

“Neither do you,” he replied, offering a faint smile. But her eyes were serious, troubled.

“There’s something in the air tonight,” she whispered. “I don’t know what it is, but… promise me you’ll be careful.”

Before Kayan could answer, a trumpet sounded. The King was about to make his toast.

The Public Betrayal

King Aldren raised his goblet high. “Tonight, we celebrate not only the moons above, but the return of my son the heir Aramore thought lost!”

Applause thundered, but not all clapped. Among the crowd, Prince Deylan stepped forward, his face tight with rage.

“And what of me, Father?” Deylan’s voice rang through the hall. Gasps echoed.

Aldren’s brow furrowed. “This is neither the time nor place”

“No!” Deylan shouted, his voice trembling with fury. “All my life, I was told I would inherit your throne. And now this stranger this peasant returns, and suddenly I am nothing?”

The hall erupted in whispers.

“He is no stranger,” Aldren thundered, his face darkening. “He is my blood, my firstborn. And you will show him respect.”

But Deylan’s hand went to his sword. The hall froze as steel hissed from its sheath.

Selene cried out, shoving herself in front of Kayan. Guards surged forward. For a moment, it seemed as though blood would be spilled then and there.

Mirantha, watching from the dais, smiled. Her work was unfolding perfectly.

The Unleashing

At that very moment, in the crypt beyond the palace, the Shadow Seer drove his dagger into the circle of blood. A scream tore through the air, though no mortal lips had uttered it.

In the palace, every candle flickered and died. Darkness swallowed the hall. The music choked into silence.

Then came the whisper a chilling hiss that slithered through every ear. “Blood… for blood…”

Shadows rippled across the walls, pulling free of their forms, twisting into figures with claws and eyes of fire.

Panic erupted. Nobles screamed, rushing for the doors, only to find them sealed shut by an unseen force. Guards swung their blades, but steel passed through the creatures like smoke, only for the shadows to reform and lash out with talons of darkness.

Kayan staggered back, his heart pounding. The mark on his body seared with sudden heat, glowing faintly through his robe.

Selene clutched him. “It’s you they’re after,” she gasped. “Stay behind me!”

But Kayan shook his head. “No I cannot hide. This… this is because of me!”

The Near Death

One of the shadow beasts lunged, claws aimed at Kayan’s chest. Time seemed to slow. He raised his arms, uselessly, bracing for death 

But then light exploded.

Liora had thrown herself in front of him, her hands lifted. To everyone’s shock, a surge of blinding silver fire burst from her palms, striking the shadow and tearing it apart.

The entire hall froze. Liora stood trembling, her eyes wide, her secret laid bare.

Kayan stared at her, breathless. “What… what are you?”

But before she could answer, another wave of shadows descended.

The Revelation

The Shadow Seer’s voice thundered through the chaos, though his body was nowhere to be seen.

“The heir cannot stand alone. His blood is bound to another. The daughter who was never born, the child thought lost… she lives. And her fate shall decide the crown.”

Selene’s eyes widened. She staggered as if struck. “No… that’s impossible… I lost her”

But deep in her heart, something twisted. A memory she had buried. A cry in the night that had been silenced too soon. Could it be?

Mirantha’s smile faltered for the first time. This was not what she had bargained for.

The Chaos Crescendo

The hall became a battlefield. Guards fought shadows. Nobles cowered beneath tables. Selene, wielding nothing but her courage, shielded Kayan with her body. Liora unleashed more bursts of light, her powers burning brighter with each strike.

Kayan, clutching a sword, fought alongside them, though every strike left him weaker, the mark on his body blazing like fire.

At last, the creatures recoiled, vanishing into smoke. Silence fell, broken only by the ragged breathing of the survivors.

The festival of peace had ended in blood and ruin.

The Aftermath

King Aldren stood shaken, his crown askew, his heart heavy with rage. “This was no accident,” he growled. “This was treachery.” His eyes swept the room, landing on Mirantha.

But Mirantha had already vanished, slipping into the night with her allies.

Kayan fell to his knees, trembling, his mind spinning with what he had heard. The daughter who was never born… she lives.

Liora knelt beside him, her hand on his cheek. “You are not alone, Kayan,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”

Selene sank against the wall, tears streaming down her face. For the first time in nineteen years, hope and terror battled within her.

And high above, thunder cracked. The storm had broken, and Aramore would never be the same again.