The Heir in the Shadows
You don’t forget the sound of someone learning how to breathe again.
It’s not loud, not dramatic like in the movies.
It’s soft. Fragile. Like a whisper cracking open a tomb.
Aiven stirred beside me for the third time since we lifted off, his lashes fluttering against his cheek like moths trapped under glass. His fingers twitched beneath the blanket, clutching at nothing. Or maybe… everything.
I sat close, still reeling. My twin—my flesh and blood—was not just real, but alive. Hidden in a prison shaped like a basement. Forgotten by the world that owed him everything.
“Water,” he mumbled, eyes barely open.
Nyra was at his side in seconds, tipping the bottle carefully to his lips. He drank like he hadn’t in years, not just quenching his thirst but clinging to pr
