Chapter 54

Morning came softly over the Kingdom of Zyren, the sunlight pouring through the golden curtains of the royal chamber. The palace was still; even the maids hadn’t started their duties yet. In the queen’s chamber, the air was thick with warmth and the faint scent of roses and sandalwood that lingered from the night before.

On the grand silk bed, two figures slept entwined—King Zerach and Queen Freda. Their bodies were wrapped around each other, their breaths falling in perfect rhythm. The bedsheets were tangled, marked by the wildness of their love. On their skin, faint red trails glowed under the morning light—marks of passion, the silent evidence of a night that had been anything but gentle. It was not just love; it was a battle of desire—the kind of connection that burned through soul and skin alike.

Freda stirred first. Her soft brown eyes blinked open, adjusting to the morning light. She turned her head slightly and looked at the man lying beside her—the king, her husband, her heart. Even in sleep, his presence commanded everything around him. His long dark hair sprawled over the pillow, his arm still firmly around her waist as if he feared she might vanish if he let go.

She smiled faintly, tracing the lines on his chest with her fingertips.

Her eyes fell on the faint marks she had left there—small bites and scratches across his skin. I must’ve gone wild last night, she thought, cheeks flushing. Her hand reached for his arm to gently remove it from her waist. She needed to freshen up before the servants arrived.

But before she could move, his deep, husky voice broke the silence.

“Where are you sneaking to, my love?” Zerach murmured, his lips curving into a sleepy grin. He pulled her even closer, his breath warm against her neck.

Freda gasped lightly, laughing softly. “I wasn’t sneaking anywhere, my king. I just wanted to—”

“Shhh,” he interrupted, his voice low and teasing as he nuzzled her ear. “Stay. Let me hold you for a moment.”

“Zerach…” she whispered, her voice trembling with both amusement and affection.

He tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes half-open now, gazing at her face. “You’re wearing the nightwear I gave you years ago,” he said with a grin. “The one you swore you’d never wear again.”

Freda raised an eyebrow, trying to hide her blush. “It was the first thing I saw. It doesn’t mean—”

“Or maybe,” he whispered, his tone shifting into that deep royal baritone, “you’re wearing it to seduce me, my queen. Because if that’s the case…”

He leaned closer until his lips brushed against her neck, “…it’s working.”

She let out a small gasp as his lips trailed along her collarbone, moving up slowly, deliberately. His hand cupped her cheek as he kissed the spot beneath her jawline.

“Zerach,” she said softly, her voice unsteady. “You’re acting like a teenager.”

He chuckled, his laughter low and full of mischief. “I might be old,” he said, pressing his forehead against hers, “but this part of me isn’t.”

Before she could reply, he gently pushed her back against the pillows, hovering above her with that familiar fire burning in his eyes. His hands moved with the ease of a man who knew every inch of her. She melted beneath him as their lips met again, slow at first, then deeper, fiercer.

The morning light caught them, turning their skin to gold. It was love, pure and consuming—one that had survived time, war, and fate itself.

And for a while, the world outside the royal chamber ceased to exist.

Meanwhile, across the palace, another soul lay awake—one who had not known rest since the night before.

Prince Lucien sat at the edge of his bed, his hands gripping his head. The dream—no, the nightmare—was still echoing through his mind. The words rang in his ears like a curse:

You will destroy all the people in your land… You will destroy all the people in your land…

He had heard it again and again—four times—each time louder, more commanding, more terrifying.

He hadn’t told anyone. Not even Kael, his little brother, who worshipped him. Not even his mother. He didn’t want to see the fear in their eyes.

But he knew something was wrong. Something deep and ancient.

And he had to find answers.

Lucien stood, quickly dressing himself in a black tunic and cloak. His long hair was tied back neatly, his face calm though his mind was chaos. He called for his horse and a few trusted guards.

“Where are we going, my prince?” one of them asked as they rode out through the golden gates of the palace.

“To the old library across the valley,” Lucien replied. “There’s something I must find.”

The library was ancient—a crumbling fortress of books and forgotten knowledge. Dust hung thick in the air. The guards waited outside while Lucien walked between the tall shelves. His footsteps echoed in the silence. He searched through books of myths, prophecies, and legends, until his eyes caught on a black, leather-bound tome resting on a pedestal.

Its title was written in faded silver runes:

“The Forbidden Ones.”

A chill ran through him as he opened it. The first page was a sketch—dark silhouettes of horned beings with glowing eyes, half-human, half-shadow.

“The Forbidden Ones are the lost souls of the first kingdom, banished into the void for their hunger of power,” the text read.

“They were once kings, gods, and monsters who defied the light. Their blood sleeps within the chosen vessel. When the vessel reaches the seventeenth year, the curse awakens.”

Lucien’s heart raced as he turned the next page.

There was a symbol drawn in red ink—the same mark that had appeared on his chest since birth.

Below it were words that made his hands tremble:

“The bearer of the mark is the bridge between the living and the void. He will open the gate. He will lead the Forbidden Ones to reclaim the world. The living shall fall, and shadows will reign.”

Lucien stepped back, breathing heavily. His heart pounded. He turned the page again.

There, written in darker ink, were two sentences that froze him completely:

“You will either destroy the world… or destroy yourself.”

The air grew colder around him. The candles flickered. He could almost feel eyes watching him from the shadows of the library.

He slammed the book shut.

“Your Highness?” one of the guards called from outside.

Lucien took a deep breath and stepped out, his face pale but composed.

“Let’s return to the palace,” he said quietly.

The guards nodded and mounted their horses. The prince rode ahead, the wind whipping through his hair, but his mind was far away—still trapped in those words, replaying them over and over:

You will either destroy the world or destroy yourself.

The journey back felt endless. Each hoofbeat echoed like the ticking of a clock counting down to something he couldn’t stop.

Back at the palace, the day went on as usual. The city bustled with life. Merchants shouted their prices, children laughed in the streets, and Kael, ever the troublemaker, was caught again sneaking pastries from the kitchen.

But the prince’s heart was heavy. He could no longer tell if the shadows following him were real or just in his mind.

When he reached the palace gates, the sky was already turning orange. The guards bowed as he entered, but he barely noticed them. His thoughts were too loud.

He passed the training yard where Kael was playing with his sword trainer. The little boy ran up to him, face bright.

“Brother! Did you see? I beat him this time!” Kael said proudly.

Lucien smiled faintly, placing a hand on his brother’s white-haired head. His skin was so pale, almost glowing, and soft as snow. There was something wolfish in Kael’s aura—wild, yet pure. He had inherited the ancient bloodline of their great-great-grandfather, the first Wolf King of Zyren. Even at six, his eyes gleamed like silver under the sun.

Lucien knelt, brushing dust off the boy’s cheek. “You did well,” he said softly. “Go to Mother. She’ll want to hear of your victory.”

Kael grinned, saluting dramatically before running off.

Lucien stood watching him go, his chest tightening with a feeling he couldn’t name—something between love and dread.

He turned and looked up toward the queen’s balcony, where his mother stood watching them, her hand resting over her heart. She smiled faintly. And for a moment, Lucien wished the peace would last forever.

But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t.

The prophecy was already in motion.

That night, as darkness settled over the kingdom, the prince sat alone in his chamber, staring out the window at the stars. The moonlight fell across his face, highlighting the mark on his chest—faintly glowing, like it was alive.

He whispered the words he had read again, his voice hollow:

“You will either destroy the world… or destroy yourself.”

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

And somewhere deep in the void—the world beyond the living—a thousand unseen eyes opened, smiling in the dark.