A few hours later. Secure quarters, magical isolation wing of the palace.

  The heavy doors closed with a dull thud, amplified by the chnnnk of the runic locks clicking into place one after the other. A pale, almost invisible mist floated in the air: the residue of permanent anti-magic.

  Kael lay on an obsidian slab draped in linen. Around him, six concentric circles, engraved in the floor, glowed at irregular intervals. Moving glyphs, forbidden runes. Symbols that even some of the kingdom's mages had never seen in their lifetime.

  Three confinement mages recited their anchoring incantations, eyes closed, in perfect symbiosis. Their overlapping voices formed a high-pitched hum, almost inaudible, but essential to contain the pulsations of dark energy emanating from Kael's body.

  On the mezzanines above, observation scribes took frantic notes. One of them whispered:

  — His aura and mana flow fluctuate every seventeen seconds... but it doesn't decrease.

  Another grimaced:

  — This isn't a classic possession. This boy... he's harboring something inside him.

  On the other side of the sealed doors, in the deserted hallway, Princess Aliah waited.

  She hadn't said a word since she was denied entry.

  “Royal order, Your Highness. No one enters, not even you,” repeated the mage stationed in front of the quarters.

  She simply nodded. But she didn't leave.

  She remained there, standing straight, pale in her ivory dress, her hands clasped over her chest. Her eyes—those large eyes full of emotion—stared at the door. As if her gaze alone could pierce the stones, the seals, the layers of magic.

  She wasn't crying. But her lips moved at times, in an almost inaudible whisper.

  “Come back... Please...”

  She still remembered how he had protected Lyssandra. The look in his eyes as he stood up to Ashréa. That heart-wrenching cry when he had shouted, “Don't touch her!”—but in which there was also that indomitable strength, that rare fire.

  She was just a fragile princess, overshadowed by her brother and the throne.

  But he... he shone.

  And now he was alone behind these walls. She knew it. Just as she knew he would keep fighting. Even unconscious. Even on the brink of disaster.

  A guard finally approached her and said,

  “Your Highness. Your mother is waiting for you.”

  She hesitated. Then she nodded one last time, without taking her eyes off the door.

  “Let me know if he wakes up... If he speaks... If he calls for someone...”

  She lowered her voice, almost ashamed of her request:

  “Even if it's not me.”

  The King's Audience Chamber

  Light streamed through the stained glass windows in shades of red and gold. The black marble floor reflected the silhouette of the king sitting on the main throne—imposing, carved from fossilized wood, framed by two stylized dragons.

  The nobles and great mages of the kingdom stood on either side, forming a semicircle. The murmurs had ceased. Everyone waited.

  In the center of the stone floor stood Lyssandra.

  Alone. Her dress was stained, still speckled with dust and dried blood. Her hair hastily pulled back. Her eyes straight ahead.

  “Lady Lyssandra Valenheart,” the king said suddenly, “please answer the question you have been asked.”

  When Lyssandra spoke, her voice was calm. But every word carried weight.

  “She was after him. Not me. She... was waiting for him, or rather, she wanted to take him away.”

  A murmur ran through the room, quickly stifled.

  An advisor stepped forward slightly.

  “Are you saying that the attacker knew Kael even before crossing the palace gates? That her target was neither the royal family nor Princess Aliah or the prince, but... him?”

  “I'm not sure she knew him, but she came for him.”

  There was a brief silence. The king tilted his head slightly.

  “But why him? Did he do something to her? Because this abomination isn't just anyone.”

  Lyssandra hesitated. The words stuck in her throat; she didn't know what to say. Especially not something that might drive him away.

  Then, with raw honesty:

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “I don't know. But... yes. Maybe. Or maybe she mistook him for someone else...”

  Thareon remained motionless. But something in his gaze, something tiny, hardened.

  Another mage cleared his throat.

  “That thing... Ashréa. She doesn't resemble any known entity. Not a demon, not a specter, not a hybrid. And she spoke in an ancient language. Perhaps a forbidden one. Some scribes have noted a language from before the Fall.”

  A shiver ran through the ranks.

  An ancient language? A language from before the Fall? She spoke our language perfectly, didn't she? And what is this Fall he's talking about? wondered Lyssandra, confused.

  The king then raised his hand. Everyone fell silent.

  “I want a list of objects, artifacts, grimoires, and weapons that could be linked to entities that are still unknown. We must find out who this Ashré is!” ordered the king.

  He then stared at Lyssandra. For a long time.

  “You were there. And close to him. You will remain under close surveillance. For your safety, and that of the kingdom, until he awakens.”

  She did not flinch.

  “Very well.”

  The king sized her up for another moment. Then, in a sharp tone:

  “That's enough. Take her to her quarters. And forbid any contact!”

  A little later, in a room guarded by guards.

  Lyssandra paced back and forth, like a caged wolf. Her thoughts were becoming obsessive. Every glance he had given her. Every word. Every tremor in his voice when he called her name.

  She clenched her teeth.

  “I have to see him...”

  She whispered. Like a secret. Like a prayer. Her forehead pressed against the cold window.

  “And who is this Ashréa? There are too many things I don't understand, and that's not good...”

  In the distance, the lights of the secure wing shone, isolated.

  Whispers of invocation, sealing runes. Worried glances.

  And at the center of it all: him.

  Kael.

  She stood up. A fire burned in her eyes, mixed with rage and desire.

  She couldn't wait any longer.

  I don't care about your orders...

  She was going to join him; at least that's what she wanted to do.

  Somewhere between dream and unconsciousness.

  Silence. A silence too dense. Too thick to be natural.

  Then, a taste of iron. On his tongue. Like blood.

  Kael opened his eyes.

  There was nothing. Just a black expanse. No ground. No sky.

  Just him. Suspended.

  Still here...

  His own voice sounded foreign. Empty. Distant. He looked down.

  His hands were chained. Chains of shadow, pulsing gently to the rhythm of his heart.

  Ba-dum... Ba-dum...

  Each beat seemed like a brutal reminder: you are not alone.

  He felt it before he saw it.

  Something—or someone—was moving forward in the darkness.

  Slow steps, almost sliding across the floor.

  Shhh... Shhh... Shhh...

  A silhouette emerged from nowhere. Blurred. At first shapeless, then clearer. It was him, or almost. He was taller. Thinner. His eyes were empty. His mouth twisted into a smile that was too wide, filled with teeth that piled up. This thing seemed to be trying to imitate his appearance.

  “You were scared, weren't you?”

  The creature's voice echoed in his head. Like a whisper in stereo, grinding against his temples.

  "She came back despite being locked up. And you could barely hold her back. You can't run away from who you are forever."

  Kael growled. He tried to move. The chains vibrated but did not give way.

  “Shut up...!”

  "Oh, I see you still want to deny us. We have become you since that day, but you still don't want us. Once again, you're pushing us away and trying to silence us. However, face the truth; think back to what just happened.”

  Kael closed his eyes. The memories came back in flashes: Lyssandra's scream, Ashréa, the explosion of energy.

  “I didn't mean to...”

  “True, but nevertheless, we are the cause of all this.”

  The double approached. Its skin seemed to be made of black mist, shifting, like a nightmare with a human face.

  “And she looked at you as if you were a magnificent monster. Isn't that right? As if she accepted you, even with your monstrous side.”

  Kael clenched his teeth. The chains tightened.

  “She wasn't afraid. At least not yet...”

  The double laughed. A broken, almost animalistic laugh. Then he leaned in and whispered:

  "If you keep holding back, hiding, next time...

  Someone else will hurt her.

  And when you see her, lying in a pool of blood, you'll have only yourself to blame.

  Because you will have decided to continue rejecting who you really are.”

  Kael screamed. And the chains broke.

  CLANG!

  A scarlet flash tore through the darkness.

  And everything collapsed, but one sentence still echoed in his mind: “You can't run away from who you are forever.”

  Containment chamber—present

  — AAAHHHH!

  Kael sat up suddenly, gasping for breath, bare-chested, his body drenched in sweat. The glyphs on the walls lit up abruptly.

  The containment mages recoiled, shocked.

  “He's awake!” one of them cried.

  But Kael wasn't looking at them. His eyes were searching for something else. Someone.

  “Lyssandra...?”

  His voice was hoarse. Broken.