Now You See Me
Today, Thalia Pher dies.
Blood dripped from the chains around her wrists, each drop striking the cobblestones of the moonshrine with a soft, steady sound that carried in the silence as she knelt there, unmoving, her hands trembling faintly beneath the iron.
She was going to die in her sister’s place. The adopted child was finally discarded.
A laugh rose in her throat, but she forced it down before it could escape, her teeth pressing hard into the inside of her cheek as a tear slipped free and fell onto her bloodied hand.
“This is the third child to die for the first prince. The king cannot keep killing our children to save one son. He has other sons,” a councilman said, his voice carrying across the shrine without restraint, as though the girl kneeling only a few steps away was already dead.
“That thing in the shrine is not even alive anymore,” another voice murmured, quieter, but certain enough to settle uneasily in the air.
Thalia’s fingers curled slightly against the iron.
Not alive?
What did he mean?
The shrine gates creaked open, the heavy sound cutting through the low murmurs.
“The King is here,” a guard announced.
Thalia turned, her gaze lifting as the Alpha King stepped through the gates, and the quiet conversations died at once, replaced by a stillness that followed him as he walked forward, his steps even against the stone, unhurried in a way that made everything else feel insignificant.
He stopped in front of her.
“Raise your head,” he commanded.
Thalia lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet his gaze even as her pulse pounded unevenly in her chest.
His eyes moved over her briefly, not lingering, before dropping to the chains around her wrists.
“Why is she bound?”
“She attempted to flee twice, Your Majesty,” a guard replied.
The answer settled between them, and for a moment, nothing else followed.
“Take them off. She is a noble and should be treated as one.”
The metal loosened, then fell away from her wrists. She did not move.
The queen stepped forward, and only then did Thalia notice her. Her hand rested lightly on Thalia’s shoulder. The woman smiled in a way that was meant to comfort but did nothing of the sort.
“You are saving the next king of Drakovia, someone irreplaceable,” she said softly, her voice gentle, measured. “That is not nothing. Your family would be greatly compensated.”
Someone irreplaceable.
Her son.
Thalia held her gaze, her chest tightening until it was hard to breathe.
“I do not want to be remembered,” Thalia said, her lips quivering, her fingers curled tightly at her sides. “Not by the people killing me.”
Something flickered in the queen’s eyes, brief and unreadable, before the corner of her mouth lifted slightly, then she dropped her hand.
“Take the girl inside.”
The guards moved immediately, their hands closing around her arms as they pulled her forward, her feet scraping against the stone as she stumbled into a narrow hallway lined with torches, the flames shifting as she passed.
At the end of the hall, two priestesses stood waiting, and as Thalia was brought closer, they pushed open the heavy chamber doors without a word.
The smell reached her first—thick incense layered over something metallic that clung to the back of her throat.
Blood.
The chamber stretched wide before her, lit by rows of candles that cast shifting shadows across the walls, and at the center stood a bed, the sheets darkened by stains that had not been fully cleaned.
“Go in,” one of the priestesses said.
Thalia didn’t move, her body refusing for a moment to obey.
A hand shoved her from behind.
She stumbled forward, catching herself just as the doors slammed shut behind her, the sharp sound echoing through the chamber, followed immediately by the turn of locks that sealed her inside.
She was alone.
Thalia spun around and threw herself against the doors, her palms striking the wood as panic surged through her chest, her breath coming unevenly as she pounded against it.
“No, please!” she cried, her voice breaking as she pressed herself harder against the door. “Please, let me out! Let me go!”
“It will be over soon,” a priestess answered from the other side, her tone calm, as though she were offering reassurance.
The words did nothing.
Her strength gave out beneath her, and she slid down the door, her breath catching as she forced it in, then out, her chest rising and falling too fast.
Her gaze lifted.
The bed was empty.
Her chest tightened.
Where was the prince?
The air shifted.
Not a breeze, but a sudden movement that crossed the room too quickly to follow, leaving behind a feeling that made dread course through her.
The prince was not alive.
The words of the councilman returned all at once.
No.
Thalia pushed herself to her feet, a scream tearing from her as she pressed back against the door, her eyes darting across the chamber.
It moved again.
Then, without warning, the candles went out, all of them at once, plunging the room into complete darkness.
“Help!” she screamed, striking the door again, harder this time. “Something is wrong!”
No answer came.
Only silence.
Then footsteps.
Slow, quiet.
Thalia went completely still, her breath catching as something cold brushed the back of her neck.
“You wanted to see me.”
His voice was low, with a tremor that made the hairs on her skin stand.
“I’m here now. Look.”
Her body trembled as she turned slowly, her steps halting as she watched the figure emerge from the darkness.
He stood before her.
The air felt thinner around him, harder to draw in, as though everything in the room had shifted to make space for him alone.
His hair fell long and white over his shoulders, unnaturally pale against his skin, but it was his eyes that held her in place.
Completely black.
No whites.
Nothing behind them.
Then she saw the veins, dark lines raised beneath his skin, spreading across his neck and down his arms in uneven paths, pulsing faintly.
A small smile touched his lips.
“Now you’ve seen me.”
Her knees gave out beneath her.
“No…” she whispered, the word barely forming.
Four girls had died trying to save the prince.
He had killed all of them.
Her mouth opened, a scream building in her chest, but before it could make it out—
He was already in front of her.
She didn’t see him move, only felt the sudden shift as cold fingers closed over her lips, stopping the sound before it could form, his face suddenly inches from hers.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said quietly.
“I don’t like it when they scream.”
