The palace had never felt so suffocating. Aelion sat in the council chamber, surrounded by noblemen whose voices clashed like swords. Each lord demanded a solution, their eyes hungry for power, not peace. The threat of the prophecy had grown louder outside these walls—rumors spread like wildfire, whispering that soon, either the prince or his sworn guard would be sacrificed to destiny.
But Aelion wasn't listening to their demands. His eyes kept drifting to the door, where Kealen stood as silently as stone. Even in stillness, his presence was a shield. Aelion longed for the quiet moments between them—moments when the world felt small, just two hearts daring to reach for each other.
"Your Highness," Lord Veynar's booming voice broke through. "We cannot ignore the prophecy. If only one life secures the kingdom, then we must act before the choice is taken from us."
Aelion's hand tightened into a fist on the armrest. "Enough," he said sharply. His voice carried through the chamber like steel. "I will not kill loyalty to satisfy superstition."
The nobles fell silent, but their glares burned with disapproval.
That night, when the chamber was finally empty, Aelion found himself walking the moonlit corridors with Kealen at his side. The silence between them was thick with unspoken thoughts.
"You shouldn't anger them," Kealen murmured, his voice low. "They will see you as reckless."
"Let them," Aelion replied, his tone softer now. "I would rather be reckless than heartless." He stopped walking, turning to face his guard. "Tell me, Kealen… do you fear it? The prophecy?"
Kealen's golden eyes met his, unwavering. "I fear losing you," he confessed quietly.
The words struck Aelion deeper than any blade could. He stepped closer, the shadows wrapping around them like a secret veil. For a moment, the prince forgot he was heir to a kingdom. He was only a boy, standing before the man who had become his anchor.
Before either could say more, the sharp echo of footsteps interrupted. A messenger stumbled toward them, pale and breathless.
"My Prince—" the boy gasped, falling to his knees. "The southern gates… they've been breached. An enemy force approaches."
Kealen immediately shifted, his hand at the hilt of his sword, his body instinctively shielding Aelion. The air grew tense, the peace of the night shattered.
Aelion's heart thundered, not with fear—but with a burning realization. The prophecy wasn't just a distant doom. It was already in motion.
And soon, either he or Kealen would be forced to pay the price.