The Prince Who Was Reborn as a Monster

The Traitor in the History Books

The footsteps grew louder.

Kael stood before the ancient monument, the silver disc clenched between his claws. His father's final warning continued echoing through his mind.

Do not trust the bloodline that sits upon the throne.

A century had passed since his murder. A century during which another family had occupied his palace, claimed his inheritance, and rewritten the history of Aurelion.

Now the hunters were approaching the chamber.

Murk moved toward the staircase, his tail clicking nervously.

“We need another exit.”

Kael examined the walls.

“There must be one.”

“Must there? Perhaps the ancient builders enjoyed making beautiful underground rooms with only one entrance.”

The pale creature approached the monument.

“There's a passage behind it.”

Murk turned.

“How do you know?”

“I can feel the resonance.”

The creature placed one hand against the monument's base. Silver light travelled across its surface, revealing a thin outline in the stone.

A section of the wall shifted inward.

Behind it was a narrow passage.

Murk immediately hurried toward it.

“Wonderful. I always knew ancient architecture had some redeeming qualities.”

Kael remained where he was.

His attention had shifted to the lower section of the monument. Beneath the inscription about the seven seals, another set of words had appeared when the silver disc activated.

He approached.

The letters were smaller, carved in a different style. Unlike the other inscriptions, they seemed to have been added long after the monument was built.

He recognized the language.

It was the official historical script used during the final decades of Aurelion.

His claws brushed away the dust.

The first line emerged.

The Crownfall Rebellion.

Kael's body stiffened.

He remembered the name.

He had heard it spoken during the final hours of his life, though nobody had explained what it meant. Lucien had accused him of treason. Garrick had claimed he had opened the northern defenses. Elara had remained silent.

But the Crownfall Rebellion had not yet begun when Kael died.

At least, that was what he had believed.

He read the next line.

In the final year of the Draven Dynasty, Prince Kael Draven betrayed the kingdom by delivering the northern gate to the enemy.

His claws stopped moving.

For a moment, the chamber became unbearably quiet.

He continued.

The prince, having conspired with the invading monsters, abandoned his soldiers and attempted to flee the capital. His treachery resulted in the deaths of thousands and the destruction of the royal household.

Kael stared at the inscription.

Prince Kael Draven was executed by General Garrick Voss after refusing to surrender.

Executed.

The word seemed to burn into his mind.

He had not been executed.

He had been murdered.

There was a difference.

A very important difference.

He remembered the royal hall. The blood on the marble. Lucien standing beside the throne. Elara watching without intervening. Garrick's sword entering his body.

He remembered his final breath.

He had not fled.

He had not surrendered.

He had not opened the northern gate.

He had fought to defend his kingdom.

And history had turned him into the man responsible for its destruction.

“Kael.”

Murk's voice sounded from the passage.

The scavenger had noticed his stillness.

“What is it?”

Kael did not answer immediately.

He moved closer to the inscription, reading the remaining lines.

Following the prince's death, Lucien Draven assumed the crown and restored order to the surviving territories. Under his leadership, the remaining loyalists defeated the rebel forces and established the foundations of the new continental order.

The inscription ended with a list of names.

Lucien Draven.

General Garrick Voss.

Lady Elara Arclight.

Kael's claws scraped against the stone.

All three had been celebrated as heroes.

His half-brother had become the savior of Aurelion.

The commander who killed him had become the kingdom's greatest defender.

And the woman he had loved had been remembered as a loyal witness who helped preserve the royal succession.

His murderers had not merely taken his life.

They had taken his place in history.

“Those names,” the pale creature whispered. “You recognize them?”

Kael turned.

“Yes.”

“Who were they?”

“People I trusted.”

Murk's expression became unusually serious.

“Trusted?”

Kael looked back at the inscription.

“My brother. My commander. My betrothed.”

The scavenger's tail stopped moving.

“Your brother became king?”

“Yes.”

“And the others?”

“They helped him.”

The pale creature examined the names.

“If this record is accurate, they were responsible for the kingdom's survival.”

Kael's eyes narrowed.

“It is not accurate.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Because I was there.”

Silence followed.

The pale creature stepped backward.

Murk looked at Kael for a long moment.

“You were there?”

Kael realized what he had revealed.

He lowered his head.

“I knew the people named here.”

Murk did not appear convinced, but he did not press the matter.

Instead, he approached the inscription.

“Perhaps this is only one version of the story.”

Kael looked at him.

“One version?”

“History is written by whoever survives. That is what humans say when they want to explain why their ancestors were better than everyone else's.”

Murk scratched his neck.

“Maybe the inscription was carved by Lucien's supporters. Maybe they changed the details. Maybe they believed what they wrote.”

“Believing a lie does not make it true.”

“No. But it makes the lie harder to destroy.”

Kael looked at the list of names again.

That was the real danger.

A century had passed.

The people who had witnessed his final moments were probably dead. Their children and grandchildren had grown up learning that he was a traitor.

Even if he returned to human form tomorrow and stood before the people of the continent, what evidence could he offer?

His memories?

His word?

A name that history had already condemned?

He had no army, no kingdom, and no identity that humanity would recognize.

He was a Gloomfang.

A weak monster.

And the descendants of his murderers ruled the continent.

A metallic clang echoed from the staircase.

The hunters had entered the chamber.

“Search the room!”

Kael immediately moved toward the hidden passage.

Murk followed, but the pale creature remained beside the monument.

“What are you doing?” Kael whispered.

The creature pointed at the inscription.

“There is something beneath the final line.”

Kael returned.

A faint silver glow had appeared around the names. The letters shifted, revealing a second layer of writing beneath them.

It was damaged, but some words remained.

The prince's blood opened the gate.

Kael froze.

Another line emerged.

The inheritance was never meant to pass to Lucien.

Then the silver light flickered.

A third line appeared, incomplete.

When the seventh seal awakens, the truth shall—

The inscription went dark.

Kael stared at it.

His father's warning.

The seven seals.

The inheritance.

They were connected.

The record had been altered, but someone had preserved fragments of the original message beneath the official account.

A footstep sounded behind them.

“Captain! There are markings here!”

Kael turned.

A hunter stood at the chamber entrance, his crossbow raised.

His eyes moved from the monument to the three creatures.

“Monsters!”

The man shouted.

More footsteps approached.

“Take them alive!” another voice ordered. “The captain wants the resonance source!”

Murk darted toward the hidden passage.

The pale creature followed.

Kael remained for one second longer.

He looked at the inscription.

Prince Kael Draven betrayed the kingdom.

He would not forget those words.

Not because they were true.

Because they were the lie he would have to destroy.

Then he turned and disappeared into the passage.

The hidden corridor descended steeply before splitting into two branches.

Murk stopped at the intersection.

“Which way?”

The pale creature closed its eyes.

“Left.”

“Are you certain?”

“No.”

Murk stared at it.

“Excellent. We are relying on uncertainty again.”

Kael chose the left passage.

They moved quickly, their claws scraping against the stone. Behind them, the hunters began forcing their way through the hidden entrance.

A loud metallic crash echoed through the corridor.

“They're coming!” Murk hissed.

Kael increased his pace.

His wounded shoulder protested, but he ignored it.

The corridor ended at a narrow opening overlooking a ravine. Far below, a stream passed between jagged rocks.

Murk peered over the edge.

“I dislike this.”

“Can we descend?”

“Possibly.”

“Then move.”

Murk began climbing down a series of exposed roots. The pale creature followed with surprising agility.

Kael descended last.

Halfway down, a crossbow bolt struck the rock beside his head.

He looked up.

Three hunters had reached the opening.

One raised his weapon.

“That's the one! The Gloomfang!”

Another hunter held a small crystal in his hand.

“Don't kill it! The captain wants it alive!”

Kael continued climbing.

A second bolt struck the roots beneath his hind legs.

The support snapped.

He fell.

His body struck the slope, bounced against a rock, and dropped several feet before his claws caught a narrow ledge.

Pain tore through his shoulder.

His grip began slipping.

Below him, Murk looked up.

“Hold on!”

The scavenger climbed toward him, ignoring the loose stones falling around his body.

Kael tried to pull himself upward.

His wounded shoulder failed.

Then the pale creature appeared beside Murk and extended a hand.

“Take it!”

Kael caught its wrist.

Together, they pulled him onto the ledge.

A third bolt struck the rock above them.

“Move!” Murk shouted.

They scrambled down the remaining slope and reached the stream.

Kael collapsed beside the water.

The hunters did not follow immediately. The ravine was too steep, and the narrow descent made a direct pursuit dangerous.

Murk sat beside him, breathing heavily.

“I hope you understand,” he said between breaths, “that I am beginning to regret our arrangement.”

Kael raised his head.

“You agreed to protect me.”

“I agreed to protect you within reason. Falling down a cliff while being shot at is not reasonable.”

The pale creature looked toward the upper ledge.

“They will continue hunting us.”

“Yes,” Kael replied.

“And now they know you can activate the relics.”

Kael examined the silver disc still held in his claws.

The object had remained with him throughout the escape.

Its surface was cold.

But the crowned wolf engraved upon it seemed sharper than before.

He looked toward the distant forest.

“They have something they want.”

Murk followed his gaze.

“The relics?”

“The inheritance.”

The scavenger frowned.

“What inheritance?”

Kael looked down at the silver disc.

“My family's.”

They remained beside the stream until darkness began covering the ravine.

Kael was exhausted. The adaptation scales across his shoulder had absorbed part of the impact from his fall, but the rest of his body was suffering.

He could barely stand.

Murk searched the surrounding rocks for edible roots while the pale creature examined the silver disc.

After several minutes, it spoke.

“The monument recognized you.”

Kael watched the water.

“Yes.”

“Your presence awakened the hidden inscription.”

“Yes.”

“And the voice called you the heir.”

Kael turned toward it.

“What are you trying to ask?”

The creature hesitated.

“Are you Prince Kael Draven?”

The question settled heavily between them.

Murk stopped searching.

For a long moment, Kael said nothing.

He could deny it.

He could claim the creature had misunderstood the inscription. He could invent another explanation and preserve the secret.

But the silver disc had already reacted to him. His father's voice had spoken his name. The monument had recognized his bloodline.

Lies would only delay the inevitable.

“I was,” he answered.

Murk slowly lowered the roots he had collected.

“You were?”

“I was Prince Kael Draven of Aurelion.”

The pale creature stared at him.

“That is impossible.”

“So I have been told.”

“You are a monster.”

“I am aware.”

“Prince Kael died a hundred years ago.”

Kael looked toward the dark forest.

“Yes. I remember.”

Murk sat down.

For once, the scavenger appeared completely speechless.

Then he looked at Kael's claws, his dark body, and the strange scales covering his shoulder.

“So the traitor in the history books is sitting beside me.”

Kael's expression hardened.

“I was never a traitor.”

Murk studied him.

“Then why does every record say you betrayed your kingdom?”

“Because the people who murdered me survived.”

The words came out quietly.

There was no anger in his voice now.

Only certainty.

He looked at the silver disc again.

A century had changed the world. His kingdom had become ruins, his family name had become a curse, and the people responsible for his death had been celebrated as saviors.

But the inscription had revealed something else.

His father's warning had survived.

The original inheritance had not passed to Lucien.

And the seven seals were still connected to his bloodline.

Kael slowly closed his claws around the disc.

He had once believed that reclaiming his throne meant defeating those who had stolen it.

Now he understood that the battle was larger.

Before he could reclaim Aurelion, he would have to prove that the prince history remembered was not the man he had been.

He would have to uncover the truth, gather evidence, and find a way to make a world that had forgotten him listen.

Murk finally broke the silence.

“So, Your Highness…”

Kael looked at him.

“Don't call me that.”

“What should I call you?”

“Kael.”

Murk considered it.

“Fine. Kael. What happens now?”

Kael looked toward the distant ruins.

“Now I find out who changed my history.”

A faint silver pulse travelled across the disc.

The voice returned inside his mind.

Historical contradiction detected.

Original record fragment recovered: 3%.

Crownfall account remains corrupted.

Then a final message appeared.

Warning: The current ruling bloodline has maintained an active connection to the seven seals.

Kael's claws tightened.

Lucien's descendants were not merely occupying his former kingdom.

They were still connected to the inheritance his father had warned him about.

And somewhere across the continent, someone might already know that the last prince of Aurelion had returned.