Calderis shimmered like a jewel under the pale morning light. Its towers caught the dawn, its markets already awake with the sound of carriages and distant bells. But within Fortress Valtheron, the air was colder—polished, perfumed, and poisoned with whispers.
Kael stood before the great doors of the war council chamber, his fingers brushing the carved wolf insignia that marked his family's crest. Behind him, Liora waited quietly, her presence steady even amidst the echoes of nobles murmuring beyond the walls.
When the herald's staff struck the marble, the doors opened with a groan of iron hinges.
"His Highness, Prince Kael of Eryndor."
The room fell silent.
Gold light spilled across the table where nobles, generals, and advisors sat in rigid attention. Tapestries of Eryndor's victories hung on the walls—each one depicting sighted kings and conquering armies. But this time, the man walking through the doorway was blind, mud-stained, and terrifyingly calm.
Kael bowed his head once toward the King.
"Your summons, Father."
King Valtheron's gaze lingered on his son—reading him as one might read a stormcloud before it breaks.
"Enter. You have the floor."
---
Shadows Beneath Applause
Kael stepped forward, the echo of his boots filling the hall.
Councillor Rhegan rose from his seat, smile thin and measured. "Your Highness. You've returned with… tales of miracles. An avalanche that crushed the enemy? Quite convenient, wouldn't you say?"
Kael tilted his head slightly. "Convenient for the men who lived. Less so for the enemy."
A few nobles stifled nervous laughter. Rhegan's smile faltered. "Some at court have wondered if luck—not leadership—guided your victory."
Kael's voice was quiet, but it carried through the chamber. "Luck doesn't bury armies beneath stone. It doesn't hold lines when fear breaks them. It listens. Learns. Acts."
The silence that followed was sharp. Even the King's expression shifted—somewhere between pride and concern.
General Corven, a grizzled veteran, leaned forward. "I was there when your grandfather fought the Border Wars. He always said Eryndor's strength came from sight, from what we could see coming. You've proved him wrong."
Kael inclined his head. "Then perhaps it's time Eryndor learned to listen instead."
The King rose slowly, the heavy mantle sweeping behind him. "Enough. The council is dismissed."
Gasps fluttered through the chamber—such abrupt endings were rare.
Valtheron's gaze never left Kael. "My son will remain. Alone."
---
The King and His Heir
When the doors closed, the hall seemed to exhale.
Valtheron descended the dais and stood before Kael, the distance between them thinner than it had ever been. For a long time, he said nothing.
"You defied my generals," the King said at last. "You risked the lives of rebels who barely trusted you."
"I saved them," Kael replied. "Eryndor needs them. You need them."
Valtheron's voice softened dangerously. "Do not presume what I need."
Kael's jaw tightened, but he bowed his head. "Then allow me to presume what Eryndor does."
Valtheron studied his son in silence. His next words came slower, almost reluctant.
"You remind me of your mother when you speak like that. She believed compassion could win wars."
"Maybe it can," Kael said quietly.
The King turned away, cloak shifting. "Compassion wins hearts, Kael. But it loses crowns."
He left before Kael could answer.
For a moment, Kael stood alone beneath the towering banners of Eryndor's glory—banners that had no place for the blind prince who'd begun to outshine his father.
---
A Whisper in the Garden
Later that day, Liora wandered the eastern gardens—places she never imagined she'd walk. The air was thick with jasmine and politics. Servants passed with downcast eyes, and in the distance, courtiers strolled in pairs, speaking softly of things they shouldn't.
A voice stopped her.
"You're the healer from Dravenfall, aren't you?"
Liora turned. A woman approached—tall, elegant, wrapped in violet silk that shimmered with faint gold thread. Her smile was beautiful but cold.
"Yes," Liora said carefully. "And you are?"
"Lady Meridia Valenor," the woman said smoothly. "The King's confidant. And—once—Kael's tutor in courtly conduct. I've heard of your… closeness to him."
Liora's heart stuttered. "I serve as his aide."
Meridia's eyes gleamed. "Of course. Though one wonders how a prince so… guarded allows anyone close."
Her tone softened, almost pitying. "Be careful, dear. The court is kind until it decides you're dangerous."
Liora's lips parted—but before she could answer, Meridia leaned closer and whispered:
"Not every shadow in this palace belongs to the King."
Then she glided away, perfume lingering like poison.
---
Threads in the Dark
That night, Kael met Rylan and two loyal scouts in one of the lesser war chambers. A map lay stretched across the table, lit only by a single oil lamp.
"They were waiting for us at Dravenfall," Kael murmured, tracing the ridges on the parchment with his fingertips. "The Black Sigil knew our movements too well."
Rylan frowned. "You think someone in Calderis warned them?"
Kael nodded slowly. "Or someone used them."
One of the scouts leaned forward. "My prince… there's talk in the barracks. A new symbol carved into doors of soldiers who speak your name too loudly—a serpent coiled around a sun."
Kael's expression hardened. "That's not the Black Sigil."
"No, sire," Rylan said grimly. "It's older. Forgotten by most."
Kael straightened. "Then we'll remember it."
---
The Balcony of Secrets
Later that night, Kael found Liora again—standing by the same balcony where they'd watched the city lights flicker.
"You shouldn't wander the palace alone," he said quietly.
She turned. "I could say the same to you."
He stepped beside her, resting his hands on the cold stone rail. "There are eyes everywhere. And not all of them human."
Liora's brow furrowed. "You mean spies?"
"Something worse," he murmured. "Believers. Those who think the throne should never pass to a blind heir."
Her heart twisted. "You've already proven them wrong."
He smiled faintly. "Proving isn't enough. Not here."
For a while, they stood together in silence, the city below glowing like embers. Then Kael spoke again, voice softer:
"When we were in Dravenfall, the danger was clear. Steel, arrows, the storm. Here, it hides behind smiles. I'd rather face a sword than a lie."
Liora's voice trembled. "Then I'll stay close. I'll see what you can't."
He turned toward her, expression unreadable but filled with quiet gratitude. "You already do."
---
Deep beneath Fortress Valtheron, in a torchlit hall few remembered, a hooded figure knelt before a carved obsidian altar. The sigil etched upon the stone was a serpent devouring its tail—its eyes glinting faintly as if alive.
"The blind prince returns," the figure whispered. "And the King believes he can be controlled."
A second voice answered from the darkness:
"Then let us remind Eryndor what happens when light forgets its shadow."
The torches flared—and then extinguished all at once.