The sun didn't rise in Ellyria the next day.
Not fully.
Instead, the sky turned ashen grey, and the clouds clung too low over the capital like mourning veils. Magic pulsed in the wind. Even the birds were silent.
Something in the air had shifted.
And Lucien could feel it under his skin — a tightness, like the curse was waiting to awaken.
He stood at the edge of the Royal Garden, where roses were bred to grow in the shapes of wolves, swords, and flames. A cruel kind of beauty. Much like this palace.
Behind him, a circle of nobles gathered, each in shimmering ceremonial garb, their faces painted in holy markings and their mouths full of false praise.
Today marked the beginning of the Imperial Trials.
A game of blood, lies, and power.
Officially, it was a test of worthiness for the heirs — not just Kael, but Lucien, and even minor royal bloodlines. Unofficially? It was a sanctioned war in velvet gloves. And someone almost always died before it was over.
Lucien knew the rules were meant to crush him.
Which is why he planned to break them.
---
Kael stood at the head of the formation, flanked by silver-armored guards.
Lucien hadn't seen him since last night.
Their eyes met across the garden.
Kael's were blank, but too still — the way a predator watches a flame it might love or fear.
Elias, further back in the crowd, refused to look at either of them. His robes were brighter today, more priest than boy, more untouchable than ever.
Lucien smiled to himself.
They were both running.
And he would enjoy the chase.
---
High Seer Caelestis stepped forward, voice amplified by a rune-crystal.
"Let it be known that the Trials begin under cursed skies. An omen. One that cannot be ignored."
He turned slowly, looking directly at Lucien.
"Each heir shall face a Trial of Truth. One alone. One watched. One judged."
Murmurs broke out.
Trial of Truth? That wasn't scheduled until the final month.
Lucien raised a brow. "Me first?"
The Seer smiled faintly. "The crown sees what bleeds in silence."
Lucien gave a slow, mocking bow. "Then let the crown watch me bleed."
---
Thechamber was ancient. Older than the palace.
They led Lucien underground — past catacombs, locked gates, and frozen spells carved into stone.
The door sealed behind him.
No light.
No guide.
Only a mirror.
And a whisper in the dark:
"Show us what you are."
The mirror rippled.
Lucien saw not his own reflection… but Riven.
Dirty. Wild-eyed. Shirtless and scarred, barefoot in the alleys of a city long gone. The boy who stole to survive. The boy who died with a dagger in his ribs.
"Do you remember?" the reflection asked.
Lucien stepped closer. "I remember everything."
The mirror shattered.
Magic exploded — not just around him, but through him.
He dropped to his knees.
The cursed collar flared to life, choking, pulsing. The sigil burned against his chest like a living wound.
And then—
A voice. Female. Ancient. Inside his mind.
"Youwear the prince's flesh… but you carry another's soul. Who summoned you?"
Lucien gritted his teeth. "No one."
"Then why were you chosen?"
He hesitated.
"…To finish what he couldn't."
Silence.
Then—
Approval.
Dark and cold like velvet soaked in wine.
The sigil dimmed. The mirror reformed. But this time… it showed both of him.
Lucien.
And Riven.
Side by side.
And behind them — two shadows:
One of Kael, his sword raised.
One of Elias, his hands glowing with holy fire.
Both coming for his heart.
---
When he returned to the surface, bruised and magic-stung, the nobles stared.
Kael stepped forward. "What did they show you?"
Lucien looked up slowly.
And smiled.
"Myself."
---
Later that night, when the palace slept, and the stars finally pushed through the cursed clouds, Lucien stood by his window shirtless, staring at the black collar around his throat.
Kael had wanted to chain him.
Elias had wanted to save him.
But no one had asked what he wanted.
He traced the sigil over his heart with a finger.
"I'm not here to be loved," he whispered.
"I'm here to be remembered."