-The NARRATOR'S POV-
Here we go!
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The silence of the underground prison was different from the silence of the snowy citadel above.
There, the hush was elegant, deliberate—crafted by architecture and political tension. But down here... the silence gnawed at the bones. It clung to the walls, pressed against the skin, and whispered reminders of abandonment through the cracks in the stone.
Agira sat shackled, his wrists bound in silver-lined cuffs that drained his energy slowly, deliberately. A thin trickle of blood had dried beneath one cuff, where the edge had cut into his skin. His head rested back against the wall, eyes half-lidded, unfocused.
And yet, he was still—composed, unbothered by the cold or the darkness. His body was tired, yes. But his mind was alive.
He was remembering her.
The scent of her blood still lingered faintly on his coat—faded now, like the last notes of a song left unfinished.
"Still alive, then," came a voice from across the cell. Soft. Disdainful.
Agira opened his eyes slowly, lifting his gaze to the approaching figure.
Zephiron.
The golden heir of Chirosa, adorned in crimson regalia even here, as if the dungeon was another stage for his theatre of authority.
"I thought Royal Father would've bled you by now," Zeph said, stopping just outside the cell. "He must be feeling merciful."
Agira didn't respond. The silence was often louder than anything else.
Zeph tilted his head. "Or perhaps he's waiting for her to be found before delivering the sentence." He crouched slightly, eyes gleaming like a predator. "You hid her well, brother. But you've always been good at hiding things, haven't you?"
Agira's lips curved into something close to a smile, though it never reached his eyes. "Is that jealousy I hear? That I've managed to do something you never could—act without fear?"
Zeph's expression soured, just for a moment, before returning to that infuriating calm. "No. It's contempt. For your stupidity. A human girl? What was she to you? A prophecy? A pawn? Or just another distraction from the shame of your existence?"
Agira remained still. Then: "You mistake silence for shame. But tell me... what haunts you more, Zeph? That I saved her, or that you didn't have the courage to?"
The words hit like a blade.
Zeph stood up sharply, his composure slipping as he straightened his shoulders. "Your arrogance will be the death of you, Agira."
"And your pride," Agira said evenly, "will be the end of this kingdom."
The two brothers stared at one another across iron bars and layered grudges. Shadows danced across their features, not from torchlight—but from something older, something more primal that stirred whenever they were in the same room.
Zeph didn't reply. He turned and walked away, his boots clicking against the stone floor in rhythm with the slow pulse of fury he tried to suppress.
Back in the chamber, the girl stirred again, sitting on the edge of the bed. The knife still lay on the table now—untouched. Her hand reached for the pendant around her neck.
"I'll save him. I'll testify." She said.
Because no one else had risked everything for her for no reason before.
And she would not let him suffer for it.
Not now. Not ever.
"Thank you." Kael ran as soon as he heard her.
Above the dungeons, He stood alone in the royal library. Scrolls were scattered around him—symbols of ancient accords, prophecies, temple communications. He traced the edges of the one the girl had carried, reading its contents again and again, as if hoping for a hidden clause, a sigil of protection, anything that could serve as leverage.
The seal of the Temple of Sanctity glimmered faintly under the dim candlelight.
She's not lying, he thought. She was sent for the Prophet. That makes her important. But she said something about the shadow heir. That makes her dangerous.
A shuffle of footsteps approached, and he turned to see the First Queen—Evharya, Agira's mother, entering the library.
"Greetings. Queen Mother." He bowed.
"She woke up," she said, not as a question but a quiet affirmation.
Kael nodded. "She's recovering. Still weak. But she'll talk soon."
The queen stepped closer, her gaze resting on the scroll Kael held. "And Agira?"
Kael's throat tightened. "He's... holding up."
Evharya's expression darkened. "We must act. This court will not spare him unless they see her standing alive beside him, her testimony clear and loud."
Kael looked up at her, eyes reflecting the same cold fury that now simmered in hers. "Then I'll bring her forward. Whatever it takes."
Charvi's room had settled into silence again, save for the distant whistle of wind curling against the frost-covered windows.
She sat upright now, her back against the wall, her breathing quiet but even. Despite her weakened state, her eyes were alert, scanning every inch of the room. Her body still ached, bones stiff beneath her skin bruised and burned, but her will have hardened.
The aura around her had begun to pulse. Faint, but steady. A glimmer of light invisible to most eyes—a glow rooted not in magic alone, but in divine resonance.
Her fingers remained wrapped around the small pendant tucked beneath her tunic. She had not let go of it even in unconsciousness. It radiated a warmth unlike fire, a soft inner glow like a hearth in winter. It was more than protection. It was remembrance.
A knock sounded again at the door—soft, hesitant. She didn't answer.
Kael entered quietly. His gaze fell immediately to her—no longer feeble and fading. Her knife was still clutched loosely in her palm, a defensive reflex. He made no move toward her.
"Still hostile," he said gently. "Can't say I blame you."
She said nothing, but the knife remained in her hand.
Kael stepped further in and set down a thick cloak on the chair beside the fire. "You're in the west wing of the citadel. No one knows you're here—except me, my brother, and a healer who owes him a few too many favours."
The silence stretched.
Kael finally added, "Your friend... the one who told you to run. I'm sorry."
The words struck like a whisper against the glass.
She didn't flinch, but her grip on the knife tightened slightly.
"What do you want from me?" Her voice was low, roughened from exhaustion.
Kael blinked. "Nothing."
"Then why help me?"
Kael leaned against the edge of the mantle, watching the flames more than her. "That's a question I've asked myself since we found you. Why would he risk himself for a stranger—knowing how much danger it'd bring?"
"'He?'" she repeated cautiously.
"My brother." Kael's voice softened. "Agira. The one in prison now... because he chose to protect you."
She looked away. "You seem unfazed," Kael said after a pause. "I'm not," she murmured. "He didn't hesitate back then either."
"You remember him?" She nodded faintly. "He wasn't like the others." Kael smiled bitterly. "He never is."
The fire crackled quietly between them.
"Your bracelet," Kael said suddenly, gesturing to her wrist. "I've seen something like it before. Miralis nobility. Old blood. Not something an ordinary girl carries into vampire territory alone."
She didn't respond. Her eyes were unreadable.
"I don't care what your name is," Kael said after a beat. "Not yet. But if you want to save him—if you want to survive—you'll need to give us something. A reason."
She lowered the knife finally and let it rest beside her.
A small breath escaped her lips. Not defeat. Acceptance.
"I was sent," she said, her voice calm now. "From the temple. To investigate the Prophet."
Kael stiffened.
"The Temple of Sanctity?"
She nodded.
"That's why they want you," Kael muttered. "Why did our father move so quickly."
He stepped closer, cautious. "Do you have proof?"
She pulled the torn scrap from inside her tunic. The metal had crushed, the seal half-melted by fire, but enough remained for Kael to recognize the sacred crest.
His eyes widened. "That's... this could save him."
She met his gaze for the first time—firm, unwavering. "Then take it."
As he reached out, his fingers brushed hers briefly.
At that moment, a pulse of warmth surged through him—so pure, so blindingly radiant, it made his breath catch in his throat.
He staggered slightly. "That... what was that?"
She recoiled instantly, clutching the pendant again.
"Your aura—" Kael whispered. "That wasn't just magic."
She didn't answer.
But Kael, heart pounding, stepped back slowly. His eyes were wide now, filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
"You're not just a temple envoy," he murmured. "Are you?"
Still, she said nothing. But her silence said enough.
He turned toward the door. "Rest. I'll speak with the court... and pray it's not too late."
He left her alone once more, her form half-shadowed in the glow of the fire.
And behind her silence, behind the scars and steel, something stirred.
A light not yet revealed.
A name is not yet spoken.
And a fate that even the gods would tremble to see unfold.
-To Be Continued-
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- P.S. CONSTRUCTIVE ADVICE WOULD BE APPRECIATED. REFRAIN FROM SPREADING HATE.-