Chapter 59

The morning sun rose faster than anyone expected, spreading a golden hue over the edge of the Beast Kingdom. Birds chirped from the tallest trees, the wind whispered softly through the leaves, and the air was thick with the scent of pine and promise.

Inside the palace, Prince Lucien stood before the mirror in his royal chamber, his heart pounding in anticipation. It was the day he had long awaited — the day he would finally bring her home. For years, the prince had lived between two worlds: the royal one that demanded his crown, and the hidden one that belonged to his heart — a world that began deep in the woods with Lyra.

He wore a simple but elegant outfit — a white tunic lined with gold embroidery, a long cape the color of midnight, and a crest ring that shone on his finger. As his guards stood ready and his horsemen prepared, Lucien took a deep breath.

Today, he wasn’t just a prince.

Today, he was a man going to claim the woman who had become his soul.

The guards rode ahead as the prince’s carriage rolled toward the woods. A few maids accompanied them, holding baskets of flowers, a jewelry box, and royal silks for Lyra. The air trembled with excitement and curiosity — the royal attendants whispered quietly among themselves, wondering what kind of woman could make the future king travel to the wilderness himself.

By the time they reached the woods, the afternoon sun was bright and alive. The birds stopped singing as the prince’s boots touched the ground, as though even the forest recognized who had arrived.

Lucien stepped down gracefully, his gaze moving slowly across the familiar trees. This was where it all began. The first time he had seen Lyra lying beside the river, sunlight bouncing off her skin, he had felt something he could never describe — something stronger than the blood of beasts that ran in him.

He signaled his attendants with a nod.

“Prepare her,” he said quietly.

At once, the royal maidens carried their boxes into the small cottage ahead. Inside, Mira, Lyra’s mother, waited anxiously, her palms sweating as she peeked out the window. Her heart pounded faster when she saw the royal crest on the carriage door — the symbol of the mighty King Zerach.

Mira swallowed hard.

The truth she had buried for twenty years was now standing at her doorstep.

She greeted the prince with forced calmness. “Your Highness,” she said softly, bowing slightly. “Please, come inside.”

Lucien followed her into the small living room. The place smelled of herbs and wood smoke — humble but warm. Mira poured him a cup of wine, her hands trembling slightly as she handed it over.

“You both are not fit,” she said suddenly, her voice trembling yet sharp. “You know that, don’t you?”

Lucien looked up, startled. “I don’t understand.”

Mira took a deep breath, steadying herself. “You deserve more, my prince. My daughter… she is not meant for your world. Please, let her go.”

Lucien’s eyes softened, but his tone turned firm. “Lady Mira,” he said, setting the cup down gently. “With all due respect, Lyra is the only person who makes me feel human. I don’t care about titles or class. I have waited years — I cannot let her go now.”

Inside, Mira’s mind screamed.

How can siblings marry?

If I speak the truth, I might be killed — or worse, imprisoned. No one will believe that the queen lost a child and that child survived.

I can’t let them be together, but I also can’t destroy them both…

She forced a faint smile. “I’m only thinking of your kingdom, my prince.”

Lucien rose to his feet, his voice steady but filled with unspoken passion. “And I’m thinking of my heart. I have faced war, prophecy, and the curse of the forbidden ones. None of it broke me. But losing Lyra would.”

Just then, the room fell quiet.

The sound of light footsteps echoed from the inner chamber.

The maidens stepped aside — and there she was.

Lyra stepped into the room wearing a simple gown of soft blue silk, her hair freshly combed and braided with tiny white flowers. The maids had given her a faint touch of royal makeup — nothing heavy, just enough to highlight her already enchanting face.

The sunlight fell on her like a blessing, making her skin glow. Her eyes — wide, bright, and full of love — locked onto Lucien’s.

Lucien froze, his breath caught.

“Lyra…” he whispered.

Then louder, almost reverent: “You look so… so beautiful.”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “You look nervous, my prince,” she teased softly.

He smiled. “I’m not nervous. I’m just realizing that even the moon would envy you tonight.”

Mira watched silently from the corner, her chest tightening with fear and sorrow. The moment was too perfect, too pure — and yet too dangerous.

Lucien walked forward, closing the distance between them. When he stood before her, he took her hands gently into his. “Are you ready?” he asked.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his.

The prince led her outside, where the royal carriage awaited. The maids bowed and opened the golden door, helping Lyra inside. As Lucien followed, Mira hesitated by the doorway.

The prince turned to her. “Lady Mira, the king requested that you accompany us. He wishes to thank you personally for raising someone as kind as Lyra.”

Her heart nearly stopped.

“Of course,” she forced a smile. “I’ll come.”

Inside, her mind raced again.

If the king sees her… if the queen sees the mark… they’ll know. They’ll know she’s the missing child. My secret will die with me.

The carriage rolled away slowly, the wheels crunching against the forest path. Lyra looked out the window, her eyes wide with wonder as she saw the distant towers of the palace glowing under the evening sun.

Lucien sat beside her, his hand brushing against hers every few seconds, as though he feared she would vanish if he let go.

“You’ve told your mother?” he asked softly.

Lyra nodded. “She… she didn’t take it well. But she’ll understand one day.”

Lucien smiled faintly. “She will. When she sees how happy we are.”

Mira turned away, staring blankly through the window, hiding the panic in her eyes.

Happy? she thought bitterly. If only you knew the truth — that you share the same blood. That fate is playing with you both.

By the time they reached the palace gates, the moon had risen — pale and round like a silent witness to destiny. The guards bowed deeply as the carriage passed. Trumpets sounded softly from the courtyard.

But what neither Lucien nor Lyra expected was the sight that greeted them next.

The palace had been decorated with garlands and glowing orbs of light. Musicians played gentle tunes as petals rained from the balconies. It wasn’t just an arrival — it was a celebration.

A welcoming party.

The queen, radiant in silver silk, stood beside King Zerach on the grand staircase, smiling warmly. “Welcome home, my son,” she said. “And welcome to the young woman who has stolen our prince’s heart.”

Lyra froze at the sight of them — the king’s golden eyes, the queen’s graceful poise. Something in their faces felt oddly familiar, like fragments of a forgotten dream.

Lucien stepped forward, holding her hand tightly. “Father. Mother. This is Lyra — the woman I love.”

The queen smiled kindly, but her gaze lingered — first on Lyra’s face, then subtly on her neck, where a faint glowing mark pulsed beneath her skin.

Her breath hitched.

That mark…

King Zerach noticed it too. His eyes widened for a brief second before he masked his surprise with a smile.

“Well then,” he said, his voice low but powerful. “Let’s welcome her properly. A feast shall be held in her honor.”

The crowd cheered, musicians struck a louder tune, and Lyra smiled — unaware that every heartbeat brought her closer to a truth that could tear them all apart.

Later that night, as the feast began and the hall filled with laughter, Mira stood at the edge of the crowd, her hands trembling. Every word, every glance between the royals and Lyra, deepened her dread.

The queen’s eyes met hers briefly — and for a fleeting moment, Mira could tell she knew.

But she said nothing.

Neither did the queen.

The dance of destiny had begun — and no one could stop it now.