Echoes of a Broken Throne

TALE 03

+At the House of Moonlight.+

“We’re back.”

Kael’s voice cuts through the quiet as he steps into the room, Julian and Jacob following close behind.

“Welcome back. Any news?”

Adrian looks up from the parchment in his hands, setting it aside as his gaze sharpens.

“Yeah,” Julian replies. “We sensed movement… from them.”

The room falls silent.

“It seems they’ve started targeting civilians,” he continues, his tone cold. “Women, specifically.”

A faint tension spreads across the space.

“We managed to save some of them,” Jacob adds. “And Julian erased their memories.”

A pause.

“Except one.”

Julian’s voice cuts in sharply. His eyes flick toward Jacob, irritation simmering beneath the surface.

“Because someone decided it was ‘against his principles.’”

Lucien, who had been standing near the far end of the room, turns his gaze toward Jacob.

“Why?” he asks calmly. “I permitted both of you to use memory erasure.”

Jacob exhales slowly, steadying himself.

“…Because I believe she’s the one we’ve been looking for.”

The words settle heavily in the air.

“I sensed something from her,” he continues. “Something different. So I stopped him.”

A scoff escapes Julian.

“You’re joking.”

He stands abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor before tipping over.

“We’ve been doing this for centuries,” he snaps. “That prophecy has done nothing but lie to us. We’re not going back.”

“We will,” Jacob fires back, his voice rising. “We will return to the mortal world. And we’ll finally end this—this endless mission that’s been dragging us for centuries.”

“Enough.”

Lucien’s voice cuts through the argument, firm and commanding.

The room stills instantly.

“Julian,” Lucien says, his tone steady, “I understand your frustration. But control yourself.”

With a subtle flick of his hand, the fallen chair lifts and settles back into place.

“And Jacob,” he continues, turning slightly, “your optimism is not unwelcome. But it cannot come at the cost of exposure.”

His gaze sharpens.

“Leaving a human with memories of us is dangerous.”

A brief pause.

“Especially when we are meant to remain hidden from them.”

The reminder hangs heavily in the air.

Both Julian and Jacob lower their heads, tension still lingering between them.

Lucien exhales slowly.

“You are both dismissed. Return to your rooms and rest.”

A beat.

“We will postpone the search for the princess’s bloodline.”

A quiet shift moves through the room at those words.

“Elias. Alaric.”

Both men look up.

“Open the antique shop as usual,” Lucien continues. “It will be easier to observe humans there without drawing attention—or wasting unnecessary energy.”

A faint, knowing edge touches his tone.

“We may find what we’re looking for… without them realizing it.”

Elias and Alaric exchange a glance before nodding.

“Yes, brother.”

----------------------------------------

Lucien returns to his chamber in silence.

The weight of the conversation still lingers in his mind.

He sets aside the old parchments, the inked prophecies blurring together after hours of reading.

For a moment, he simply stands there.

Thinking.

Jacob’s certainty.

Julian’s frustration.

Both of them are right.

And yet—

neither of them are.

Lucien exhales slowly before lying down, his gaze drifting to the high ceiling above him.

He closes his eyes.

Just for a moment.

Just to rest them.

Darkness settles.

Then—

Light.

His eyes open.

A vast field stretches before him, endless and golden.

Sunflowers sway gently beneath a warm sky, their petals catching the light like fragments of the sun itself.

Lucien stills.

He knows this place.

“…The eastern meadow…”

His voice is quieter now.

Distant.

A place he once visited—long ago.

Back when the kingdom still stood.

But something is wrong.

There’s someone here.

His gaze shifts.

A woman stands in the middle of the field, her back turned to him, unmoving as the wind brushes past her.

Lucien’s brows knit slightly.

“…That’s not the princess.”

The thought comes instinctively.

Certain.

He steps forward cautiously.

“Hello?”

The woman turns.

For a moment—

everything feels… unfamiliar.

And yet—

Something about her feels wrongly familiar.

“Who are you?” she asks.

Her voice is steady, but there’s confusion beneath it.

“And where am I?”

Lucien hesitates.

Even he isn’t sure how to answer that.

“…I believe this is the sunflower field,” he says slowly. “But you… don’t seem like you belong here.”

He studies her more carefully.

There’s something about her presence—

something that doesn’t fit.

“Who are you?” he asks again.

A pause.

Lucien takes a step closer, slowly extending his hand toward her.

The moment their distance closes—

Light erupts between them.

Blinding.

Sharp.

Lucien freezes.

“…You forgot me…”

Her voice echoes—soft, distant—

and yet it feels like it’s being pressed directly into his mind.

Something in his chest tightens.

That voice—

He knows it.

Or at least—

he should.

And then—

Darkness.

Lucien gasps, his eyes snapping open.

He sits upright abruptly, breath uneven, his chest rising and falling faster than it should.

His room comes back into focus.

The walls.

The silence.

The present.

“…It was just a dream…”

But even as he says it—

his hand tightens slightly against the sheets.

Because something about it…

felt too real.

Too precise.

Too intentional.

Lucien exhales slowly, his gaze lowering.

“…Who was she…?”

The question lingers.

Unanswered.

But for the first time in a long while—

the prophecy doesn’t feel distant anymore.

It feels…

closer.

-------------------------------------

You wake with a sharp inhale.

The ceiling above you comes into focus slowly, your breath uneven, your chest rising just a little too fast.

For a moment, you don’t move.

You just lie there—staring, listening, waiting for your heartbeat to settle.

It doesn’t.

Fragments of the dream cling stubbornly to your mind.

Not images.

Not clearly.

Just—

a presence.

Someone was there.

You’re sure of it.

Your brows knit slightly as you push yourself up, one hand instinctively lifting.

Your fingers hover in the air.

For some reason…

your skin still feels warm.

Like someone had almost touched you.

“…What was that…?”

Your voice comes out softer than expected, barely above a whisper.

No answer follows.

Of course not.

You exhale slowly, dragging a hand down your face.

“Just a dream,” you mutter.

But the words don’t sit right.

They don’t feel true.

Still, you force yourself to move.

The day doesn’t stop just because your mind is acting strange.

It’s your day off.

You should feel relieved.

Relaxed.

Instead—

you feel… restless.

By the time you step outside, the air feels lighter than it should.

The sky is clear, the city moving at its usual pace.

Cars pass.

People talk.

Everything unfolds exactly as it always does.

Normal.

And yet—

you can’t shake the feeling that something is slightly… off.

You walk without a destination, letting your steps carry you forward.

Just to clear your head.

Just to feel something steady again.

Minutes pass.

Maybe longer.

You don’t keep track.

Until—

You stop.

There’s a shop.

Your brows furrow slightly as your gaze lingers on it.

You don’t remember seeing it before.

Not here.

Not ever.

The sign above the door reads:

Moonlight Antique

The name settles strangely in your chest.

Familiar.

But you don’t know why.

“…Since when was this here…?”

No one answers.

No one even seems to notice it.

People pass by without sparing it a glance.

As if it doesn’t exist.

A faint unease curls in your stomach.

And yet—

You step closer.

Something about the place draws you in.

Not strongly.

Not forcefully.

Just enough that ignoring it feels… wrong.

The closer you get, the quieter everything becomes.

The sounds of the street dull, fading into something distant.

Muted.

Your heartbeat becomes clearer instead.

Louder.

You stop just in front of the door.

For a second—

you hesitate.

Your hand lifts slowly, hovering just inches from the handle.

Something feels…

strange.

Not dangerous.

Not exactly.

Just—

important.

Your fingers twitch slightly.

Then—

you touch it.

Far away—

deep within the House of Moonlight—

something awakens.

A sharp pulse cuts through the stillness.

The ancient relic trembles violently.

Light fractures across its surface, thin lines of silver breaking through as if something inside is trying to escape.

Cracks spread.

Slow.

Unnatural.

Energy surges through the chamber, heavy and suffocating.

For the first time in centuries—

it reacts.

Back at the door—

your breath catches.

The metal beneath your fingers is warm.

Too warm.

It almost feels like—

it’s responding to you.

Your grip tightens slightly.

A strange sensation spreads up your arm, subtle but undeniable.

You should pull away.

You don’t.

Instead—

you push.

The door creaks softly as it opens.

The moment it does—

the world shifts.

Not visibly.

Not completely.

But enough that you feel it.

The air inside is different.

Heavier.

Still.

Waiting.

You step inside slowly, your gaze sweeping across the space.

Shelves line the walls, filled with objects you can’t quite place.

Antique, yes—

but not ordinary.

Some feel too quiet.

Others…

too alive.

The door closes behind you with a soft click.

You freeze.

You don’t remember closing it.

A faint chill runs down your spine.

“…Hello?”

Your voice echoes slightly, swallowed by the stillness of the shop.

No answer.

And yet—

You’re not alone.

You can feel it.

Something—

or someone—

is already aware of your presence.

Watching.

Waiting.

Your fingers curl slightly at your side.

“…Why does this feel familiar…?”

The question lingers in the air.

Unanswered.

But deep within the House of Moonlight—

the relic continues to pulse.

As if it has finally found—

what it has been waiting for.

--------------------------------------

+Deep within the House of Moonlight+

The relic pulses.

Once.

Twice.

Then violently.

A sharp surge of energy ripples through the chamber, distorting the still air around it. Thin fractures of silver light crawl across its surface, spreading like veins beneath stone.

Adrian stills.

“…That’s not possible.”

He steps closer, his gaze narrowing as the relic trembles again—stronger this time.

It hasn’t reacted like this in centuries.

Not since—

No.

His expression hardens.

Without another word, Adrian closes his eyes.

The connection forms instantly.

—Lucien.

Silence.

Then—

—Report.

—The relic is active.

A pause.

Short.

Heavy.

—Explain.

Adrian’s gaze remains fixed on the artifact, watching as another pulse fractures across its surface.

—Something triggered it. Recently. The resonance is still fresh.

Another presence joins the link.

Then another.

The air itself seems to tighten.

—Location?

Adrian exhales slowly.

—The source isn’t here…

His voice lowers.

—…but it’s close.

+Across the city+

Inside the antique shop—

Elias feels it first.

A sharp, familiar pull.

His head lifts slightly.

“…Did you feel that?”

Alaric doesn’t answer immediately.

Because he already knows.

“I did.”

The door creaks open softly.

Both of them turn.

And then—

you step inside.

The moment your foot crosses the threshold—

the pull sharpens.

Clear.

Unmistakable.

Elias’s gaze narrows slightly.

“…So it’s you.”

Not spoken aloud.

But the thought lingers.

Alaric watches you in silence.

Carefully.

Measuring.

You don’t notice.

Or maybe—

you do.

“Welcome.”

Elias’s voice is calm.

Controlled.

You turn toward him, your expression uncertain but polite.

“…Thank you.”

“…Feel free to look around.”

There’s a pause between his words.

Subtle.

But intentional.

You nod faintly, stepping further inside.

Behind the calm surface—

both of them are watching.

Closely.

Because the moment you touched that door—

you didn’t just enter the shop.

You triggered something that hasn’t awakened in centuries.

Your gaze drifts across the shelves.

Objects line the walls—old, unfamiliar, yet oddly… familiar.

Your fingers hover over one without thinking.

You hesitate.

Then touch it.

The air shifts.

Barely noticeable.

Except to them.

Alaric stills.

“…Confirmed,” he murmurs quietly.

Elias exhales through his nose.

“…She’s connected.”

You frown slightly, tilting your head.

“…This feels… strange.”

Elias steps closer, just enough to remain natural.

“It’s old,” he says smoothly. “Most things here are.”

Your gaze lifts.

For a brief moment—

your eyes meet his.

And something flickers.

Fast.

Sharp.

Elias feels it.

Like something buried—

trying to surface.

Then—

it’s gone.

You look away first.

But the feeling doesn’t leave.

It lingers.

“Within the telepathic link—“

—We have visual confirmation.

Adrian’s voice cuts through the silence.

A pause.

—Describe.

Alaric’s gaze doesn’t leave you.

—Female. Early twenties. No visible awareness…

A slight shift.

—But she triggered the relic.

Silence.

Then—

—Do not engage recklessly.

Lucien’s voice.

Calm.

Firm.

—Observe first.

“…Do we inform him further?” Elias murmurs under his breath.

“…We already have.”

Alaric’s voice is quiet.

Measured.

“…Not yet.”

You move deeper into the shop, unaware of the invisible weight surrounding you.

But not untouched by it.

Your fingers twitch slightly at your side.

That feeling again.

Like something—

or someone—

is waiting.

Behind you—

they’re still watching.

And far away—

the relic continues to pulse.

As if it has finally found—

what it has been waiting for.

--------------------------------