BOUND TO THE SHADOW PRINCE

The bells of Aeryndor tolled thirteen times. Each note rolled through the city like thunder, shaking dust from the cracked stone walls and rattling windows that hadn’t opened in years. From her perch above the courtyard, Lyra watched the torches below, bright rivers of flame winding through the cobbled streets toward the temple. The smell of burning pitch mixed with incense and fear. Tonight was the Blood Moon ceremony, the night one name would be drawn, one soul offered to keep the gods quiet for another year. And somehow, she already knew which name they’d call. Her fingers dug into the rooftop stone, the chill biting through her skin. She’d scrubbed the temple floors that morning, polished the altar steps with her own hands. She’d heard the whispers then...the High Priest’s unease, the rumors of a “marked girl,” the one fate had been circling for months. “Lyra!” someone called from below. It was Marek, one of the kitchen boys. “They’re starting!” She forced a weak smile, but her stomach churned. “I’ll be down in a moment.” She didn’t mean it. Down in the square, the High Priest lifted a parchment that fluttered in the cold wind. The crowd held its breath. The parchment trembled in his jeweled fingers, his voice echoing off the stone like a curse. “By divine lot and lunar decree, the sacrifice shall be… Lyra Vance.” The words struck her like an arrow. A murmur rippled through the sea of faces. Her? A servant girl? Too plain. Too small. Too insignificant to please the gods. But no one dared question divine will. The guards found her before her legs could even move. One seized her arm roughly, the other pressed a cold blade against her back. “Kneel,” one barked. Lyra’s breath came fast. “It’s a mistake,” she whispered. “It has to be.” Her voice vanished under the crowd’s chanting. She searched the faces below. Her master, Lord Renard, stood among the nobles, robes perfect, expression hollow. He didn’t even flinch. He couldn’t bear to meet her eyes. That betrayal hurt worse than the ropes that cut into her wrists. The torches flared brighter as the moon climbed higher, red and swollen, like a wound in the sky. The altar stones pulsed faintly, veins of ancient runes glowing beneath their surface. Lyra’s knees hit the cold marble. The smell of iron and old blood filled her nose. The High Priest raised his silver dagger, voice booming: “Let her blood seal the covenant!” The blade flashed downward... ...and stopped mid-air. A surge of light exploded from Lyra’s chest, blinding white, flinging the priest backward. The ropes burned away in an instant, curling into smoke. Across her skin bloomed a sigil-shaped like a crescent split by a sword. It pulsed once, twice, then the ground beneath the altar cracked open like the world itself had drawn a breath. From the fissure poured shadow. Cold, living shadow that hissed like smoke and howled like the wind. The priests screamed, scrambling backward as a figure stepped through the storm. Tall. Cloaked in black armor etched with runes that shimmered faintly silver. The scent of iron and ash followed him. His eyes, molten silver, cut through the darkness. He moved with the stillness of someone who didn’t need to rush, someone who knew exactly how dangerous he was. He surveyed the chaos, then turned his gaze to Lyra. When their eyes met, the world seemed to tilt. “You’ve stolen from the Shadow Court,” he said, voice low and resonant, the kind of sound that lived in your bones. “This girl is not your offering.” The High Priest stumbled backward. “W-We meant no offense, my lord” The man’s stare silenced him. He extended a gloved hand toward Lyra. “She is mine.” The torches went out all at once. Darkness swallowed the temple, leaving only the red glow of the moon...and the mark blazing across Lyra’s chest, answering his words like it knew him. Her heart thundered. The shadows curled around her, brushing her skin like whispers. She didn’t know his name. The ground split wider. Wind howled. The last thing she saw was his silver gaze locked on hers before the earth swallowed them both, and the city of Aeryndor screamed into silence.