OURS: The Hunted Prince

Chapter 12: The Dream

Zane POV

I woke up in a serene garden.

The flowers were so beautiful. Devilishly breathtaking. Reds and golds and blues that shouldn’t exist in the same world as death. The air there was fresh. Clean. Sweet.

And oddly familiar.

But I couldn’t remember where I had seen it before.

This was not what I was expecting.

No cold dungeon floor. No screaming for help. No blast.

The last thing I remembered was noise.

Stone shattering. A roar like the world was ending. Then one word, shouted like a vow:

“OURS.”

Then nothing.

“Baby!”

I froze.

That voice.

No.

How can it be possible?

I turned.

There she was.

“Mum,” I said quietly, like I was trying to convince myself of what I was seeing.

“Yes, baby, it’s me.”

All the tears I was holding. All the pain. Everything came crashing down.

“Oh, my baby,” Mum said. “Come here.”

I ran into her arms.

I have missed her so much. Her scent—lavender and sunshine and home. Her voice. Everything about her.

“Come, let’s go,” she whispered.

“To where?” I asked.

“Home,” she said.

I followed her.

And when we came to a stop, I looked up and couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Our castle.

The garden.

No wonder it looked familiar. It was my favorite place in the castle when I was a child.

How is that possible? I asked myself.

The last time I saw it, it was in flames. Blood everywhere. My mother’s lifeless body. My sister’s—

“Come on, baby. Let’s go inside. Your dad will be so surprised. And Ariel—she will be so happy. She misses you and has been asking about you.”

What in the bloody moon is going on here? I asked myself.

We entered the house.

My dad was coming down from his study when he saw me.

He froze. Like he had seen a ghost.

“Zaneeee!” Ariel screamed my name as she jumped on me.

“I missed you! Where have you been?”

I was so overwhelmed that I could not speak.

I just stood still, tears rolling down my cheeks.

Is this real? Are they really here? What is going on?

“Zane,” Dad called out to me.

“Are you—” He trailed off.

I could see the emotions in his eyes. The unshed tears in them.

“Yes, Dad. I am here,” I said.

“Oh, my God. Come here,” he said, his eyes wide open.

I hugged him so tight.

I missed him so much.

My dad was a very tough king.

But inside, and when with his family, he is just a big baby.

He ruled with wisdom, fairness. He was my superhero. My role model. He was just and kind.

Which led to his death.

He loved his younger brother “Williams” so much. Even when William did so many bad things, my dad still pardoned him. He always said family was everything.

Which, I guess, by now he has realized how wrong he was.

That same brother that he always protected and pardoned slaughtered almost his whole family right in front of him.

“Zane, come and play with me! I have missed you, and Nana is not here. Nobody is here. Just Mama and Baba.”

I broke down in tears hearing her say that.

“Bubba, why are you crying?” Ariel asked.

“Nothing, Arie,” I lied. “I am just so happy to see you. I have missed you too.”

She chuckled happily.

How could they do this to her? She was so innocent and sweet. The sweetest person I have ever known.

I played with her for a while and then decided to take a tour of the castle. I missed it so much.

I went to my room. Lay on the bed.

And it felt so good.

The moment my back hit the mattress, the world went quiet.

This room.

It still smelled like forest dew and dried lavender — Mum’s doing. She used to tuck little sachets between my pillowcases when I had nightmares. “So the forest protects you, even in sleep,” she’d whisper.

The walls were a soft, muted blue. Not baby blue. The kind of blue you see in the sky just before dawn. Silverfrost, the painters had called it. Father said it matched my eyes when I was born, so he had the whole room redone.

My bed was too big for one person. A four-poster carved from pale oak, but the posts were wrapped in sheer cream drapes, not heavy velvet. They caught the light and made everything look hazy, like I was underwater. Fairy lights were still tangled in the canopy — Ariel’s idea from my sixteenth birthday. I’d never taken them down. At night they glowed soft as fireflies, and for some reason the royal chandelier always felt too loud.

Across from the bed stood my bookshelf. Half of it was poetry and old Earth novels Mum smuggled from the human realm. The other half... daggers. Throwing knives. A silver-tipped arrow Father gave me when I turned ten. “A prince protects,” he’d said, pressing it into my palm. “Even with pretty things, Zane.”

On the desk by the window, paint was smudged into the wood. Blues and silvers. I wasn’t good, but I liked mixing colors when the castle got too quiet. Next to the paint pots sat a glass frame. Inside, pressed moonflowers. Ariel picked them for me last spring. “Because they only bloom at night, like you,” she’d said, shoving them into my hands with sticky fingers.

The window seat was my favorite. Piled with cushions the color of storm clouds and cream. It overlooked the Silverfang forest. I used to hide there during storms, knees to my chest, watching lightning paint the trees. It was where I felt safest. Where no one expected the crown prince to be.

And in the corner, on a small table, sat a music box. Silver, with a kitsune carved into the lid. Mum’s. It played a lullaby so sad it made your chest hurt. I hadn’t wound it since the funeral. Couldn’t.

But the thing I loved most was draped over the chaise by the fireplace. A knitted throw blanket. Chunky, uneven stitches, the color of winter mornings. Mum made it when I was sick for a month at seven. She wasn’t good at knitting. The edges curled. But it was warm. It was home. I dragged it everywhere until the maids started calling me “Prince Blanket.”

The room wasn’t childish. It wasn’t grown-up either. It was me. Before I had to be strong. Before I had to be king. Before the blood.

I sank deeper into the silk sheets — Mum insisted on silk, “for your skin, baby” — and they were cool against my feverish cheeks. The silver on my wrists from the dungeon had stopped burning here. In this room, I was just Zane. Not the cursed prince. Not the last kitsune. Just Zane.

I hugged the comfort pillow Ariel gave me for my seventeenth birthday. Fluffy and soft and shaped like a crescent moon. She’d saved her allowance for three months to buy it. “So the moon can hug you when we can’t,” she’d said.

If this was a dream, please, I don’t want to wake up. I want to remain here, I thought to myself.

I came out of my room and started walking down the hallway.

I heard people talking in hushed tones.

I decided to eavesdrop. Which I knew was bad, but I just couldn’t help it.

I peeked from where I was hiding.

I saw my dad and mum talking in low tones.

I was surprised. What were they whispering about?

I moved closer to them, careful so I don’t get caught.

“Honey, he can’t stay here,” my dad said.

“Why can’t he stay here?” my mom asked.

“Honey, you know why he can’t stay. He has to go. It’s not his time yet.”

“But he is all alone there. I can’t let him go back. He is going to be lonely. He is going to get hurt. They will keep on hunting for him.”

“I know, but he is a strong boy. He is way stronger than he knows. I know he will be fine.”

“No, you don’t know that. He has nobody else. We are all dead. He is just 18. He is still my baby. I can’t let him face that cruel world alone. Here he will be safe and protected from them and any other person who might hurt him. Here he won’t have to be sad. He will not be lonely. So no. He is not going back.”

Tears were streaming down my cheeks as I stood there listening to my parents.

I sniffed unknowingly, which alerted them.

I tried running but was stopped by my dad.

They had already seen me. There was no need hiding or running anymore.

“Oh, my baby, don’t cry, okay? You are not going anywhere. And that is final.”

My dad didn’t say anything more.

He just kept quiet.

I went up to my room and was grateful they understood that I needed some time alone. I lay on my bed. That forest dew scent my room has always had welcomed me, and I felt better. Oh, I have missed it so much. I hugged my comfort pillow — the crescent moon one from Ariel. It was a gift I received from her last year when I turned 17. I love it so much. It's so fluffy and soft and comfy. I don't want to leave. Mmmm, I mourned to how comforting it was.

It was dinner time.

I came down to eat and was dumbstruck with the smell of my favorite food.

Smoked salmon. Sweet and salty. And berries from Forest River.

Oh, my. I have missed that delicious smell so much.

I came down the stairs in two steps.

“Honey, I prepared your favorite,” my mom said to me.

“Thanks, Mum. You are always the best and will remain the best mum in the whole world,” I teased her, which made her so happy.

My sister was so focused on her food that she didn’t even look at me.

My dad was also smiling, but I knew he wasn’t okay.

He had that look. The one that screams something is bothering me but there is nothing I can do about it.

I knew exactly what was bothering him.

But I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet.

I want to enjoy here. I want to stay here. If possible, forever.

But why do I feel this pit in my stomach whenever I think about staying here forever?

It’s not like I have anything or anybody waiting for me to wake up.

“Baby, are you okay?” my mom asked.

“Yes, Mum. Why?”

“You zoned out and you stopped eating your food. What is going on?”

“Nothing, Mum. I am okay,” I smiled at her.

After dinner, we spoke about random things while watching the TV.

Ariel was the first to sleep. Followed by my mom, who slept on my dad’s thighs while he petted and massaged her scalp softly.

I looked at them.

And felt like I was missing something.

And the pit in my stomach deepened.

What was that? I asked myself.

“I will take your mum upstairs,” he said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Okay,” I replied. “I will tuck Ariel under the covers.”

He said nothing and turned towards the stairs, starting to walk towards their room with my mum curled up in his arms like a baby.

I took my little sister Ariel up to her room. I laid her on the bed, kissed her on the forehead, and left.

I went to my room and went to the bathroom to freshen up and get ready for bed.

After I was done with that, I laid on my bed and tucked myself under the covers.

Knock knock.

I knew who was knocking.

It was my dad.

I knew what he wanted to talk about.

And I was not ready for that

. Not yet.

I don’t want to go back. I just want to stay here with them.

Why can’t he understand that?

I felt that strange feeling. Like a pit in my stomach. Like someone inside of me didn’t like what I was thinking about.

What in the bloody void is wrong with me?