Chapter 1
The heavy velvet curtains of the royal chambers were drawn, but they couldn't shut out the smell of stale incense and the suffocating silence that defined life under Queen Melody.
Roderick sat at his desk, his hands trembling slightly as he held the parchment. The ink was old, the prophecy's warnings brittle against his thumb, but the message remained sharp:
The broken wing waits, the twin blades shall land,
One like the sea, one like the sand.
The sea shall rise to drown the shore,
And leave the prince with nothing more.
The sand shall shift to build the wall,
That keeps the prince before the fall.
But salt and grit are much the same,
When blind to who calls out his name.
His eyes flickered to the window overlooking the main thoroughfare of the Kingdom. Any moment now. A soft knock at the door made him bolt upright, his instinct, a relic of his former life as a rebel, screamed at him to hide the scroll, to jump out the window, to fight. Instead, he forced his shoulders to slump into the posture of the defeated prince.
"Enter." he managed, his voice sounding thinner then he liked.
It wasn't a guard, just a servant informing him that his sister’s council would be meeting in an hour. He nodded curtly, waited for the servant to leave, and returned to the window.
His mind wandered to them. Luke and Nyx.
Roderick remembered Luke best as a traitor, the man who had once faught against Melody with him and then later, had been tasked with keeping him in line. That was all before Colton. The memory of Luke’s friend, wracked by that wasting sickness, still felt like a physical ache. He remembered the exact moment Luke offered to take care of Colton in the lower infirmary. Luke had traded his iron-fisted authority for the life of his brother.
And then there was Nyx. The ghost of his rebellion. She had always supported Roderick wholeheartedly, two sides of the same burning coin. But after Roderick had killed the hero, the act that had shattered his own soul and handed his leash to Queen Melody, Nyx had vanished into the shadows of the kingdom.
'One wants to destroy me.' Roderick thought.
He didn't know if the destroyer was the man who had once held him in a chokehold of duty, or the friend who had witnessed him become a monster. He didn't know if the savior was the cousin who had learned to smile from a blind girl, or the rebel who had seen the truth of who Roderick really was.
Down below, the heavy portcullis of the palace groaned open. Roderick gripped the windowsill until his knuckles turned white.
He couldn't run.
He couldn't hide.
He could only watch, trapped in his gilded cage, as his past rode up to settle the score.
******
The tension in the chamber was thick enough to choke on. The heavy oak doors creaked open, echoing through the hall like a death knell.
Roderick sat at the Council table, his twisted left arm hidden beneath the mahogany surface.
Queen Melody stood at the far end, a smile playing on her lips. She didn't look at Roderick, she looked only at the two figures approaching the table.
At nineteen, Luke possessed the kind of hight that usually invited awe, yet he carried himself with a hunched, weary caution. He stood taller then anyone else, a towering six-foot-ten, his golden hair catching the light like a halo that sat ill-at-ease above his charcoal-grey eyes. Those eyes, once sharp and focused on the rebellion, now looked like stones worn smooth by too much grief with a scar through his left eyebrow. A testament to the long, quiet nights spent in the lower infirmary nursing a dying brother. He wore the colors of the Crown, the crest stitched in gold thread against midnight blue, yet he still carried himself like a man waiting for a knife to strike.
Behind him walked Nyx. She was a study of stillness, a stark contrast to Luke’s towering, weary presence. She moved with a silent, predatory grace that made the guards subconsciously shift away from her path. Her hair, a mess of raven black, hung around a face that held no warmth, and her eyes, sharp, restless, violet things, scanned the chamber not for honor, but for weaknesses. She didn't just walk into the room, she haunted it, a jagged blade waiting for the right moment to strike.
Nyx’s gaze landed on Luke. It wasn't just a look, it was a physical tether. She drifted closer to him, her eyes wide and unblinking, tracking the rhythmic movement of his breathing.
"Welcome," Melody greeted, gesturing to the empty seats. "The Council has much to discuss regarding the... stabilization of the kingdom."
Roderick felt the air leave his lungs as Luke took his seat. Nyx, however, ignored the chair entirely. She slipped into the space behind Luke, crouching on the rug like a panther. She reached up, absentmindedly licking the back of her hand, her eyes never leaving the back of Luke’s head.
"Roderick," Melody said. "Why don't you update our guests on the state of your... compliance?"
Roderick forced himself to stand. His legs felt like lead. As he spoke he tried to catch a glimpse of their expressions.
Luke looked at him with an expression of such neutral, clinical focus that it made Roderick’s stomach churn. Was this the "sand" building the wall? Was he planning to lock Roderick away for his own good, or was he merely waiting for the right moment to deliver a strike that would finally silence the traitorous Prince?
