BOUND TO THE SHADOW PRINCE

The first time Aelira Voss saw the royal emissary from Noctara, she knew her fate was no longer her own. He arrived not on horseback like a nobleman, nor in a golden carriage like the envoys from the sunlit kingdoms. He came on foot, dressed in a cloak the color of dying stars, shadows twisting unnaturally at his feet. Where he walked, frost bloomed across the summer grass. And behind him followed silence. Aelira stood by the marble columns of the palace courtyard, hidden by the veil of ivy that grew wild along the southern wall. She wasn’t supposed to be there. She had overheard her father speaking in low, frantic tones for weeks, ever since the last border clash between Noctara and the Kingdom of Orlath. Her kingdom. Her home. And now it was to be surrendered no, worse. It was to be wed to the darkness. She pressed her back against the stone, her heartbeat echoing in her ears as the doors to the throne hall opened with a groan of iron hinges. She could hear the emissary’s voice, low and smooth like smoke, as he spoke before the court. "Prince Kael Dravyn accepts your offer. The war will cease. On one condition..." "Name it," her father's voice answered, too quickly, too desperate. "The girl. Your daughter." Silence. Cold. Absolute. "She will be his bride. And she will be brought to Noctara by the next moon." Aelira’s breath caught. Her fingers curled around the ivy vine, thorns cutting into her skin. She didn’t feel it. She only felt the weight of something ancient and cruel settle over her shoulders. A bargain made. A life traded. Her life. By nightfall, the castle was alive with whispers. Servants scurried to prepare trunks. Her attendants cried behind closed doors. Her stepmother offered a sad smile and words that meant nothing. Her father never came. Aelira sat in her chamber, the golden ring of her mother’s pendant clutched tightly in her hand. It was the only thing she had left her mother, long dead and spoken of only in bitter, hushed tones, had once whispered to her: "You are more than you seem, little moon. One day, the stars will call you back." What would her mother say now, if she saw her daughter being sent to the very shadows she once warned her against? The moon rose high, pale and full. And with it came the carriage. Not gold. Not silver. Black as the night sky, carved with runes that shimmered faintly when touched by moonlight. The horses snorted mist, their eyes glowing faintly red. Waiting. Her name was called. She stepped out into the courtyard with a straight back, her white dress flowing like light itself. She would not beg. She would not weep. She was a Voss. She was human. She was not afraid. The emissary bowed low, opening the door. Inside waited velvet darkness and an unspoken fate. Aelira looked back only once at the kingdom she no longer belonged to, at the father who never appeared, at the stars overhead. Then she stepped into the dark. The door closed behind her with a whisper.The inside of the carriage smelled of myrrh and storm wind. Aelira sat stiffly on the velvet seat, her hands folded in her lap, her spine as straight as the sword she once trained with in secret. Across from her sat the emissary, his face veiled in the same strange shadow that clung to his cloak. His eyes were pale silver, almost white, and they watched her like a priest studying an offering on an altar. She refused to speak first. The silence between them stretched on until the carriage crossed the borders of Orlath. The skies grew darker, the air colder. Trees twisted into jagged shapes, and the stars themselves seemed to vanish behind a curtain of gray mist. Noctara. The land of demons, curses, and eternal twilight. “Do you know what they call him?” the emissary asked suddenly, his voice soft but jarring in the silence. Aelira blinked. “Who?” “The one you’re to marry.” She didn’t answer. He smiled, slow and hollow. “They call him the Shadow Prince. The King’s curse. The Beast of the Blood Moon.” Aelira’s stomach tightened, but she didn’t let it show. “And what do you call him?” The man tilted his head. “I call him ‘master.’ As you will, soon.” She narrowed her eyes. “I will call him by his name.” A dry laugh. “Few dare.” Lightning cracked in the distance, illuminating the runes etched into the ceiling of the carriage. They pulsed with soft light, like the heartbeat of something ancient and sleeping. Aelira turned her gaze to the window. The world outside was changing. The forests were darker, the trees barer, and strange creatures watched from the shadows some with too many eyes, some with none at all. She saw a pair of wings, leathery and massive, disappear into the canopy above them. She breathed in slowly. She would not show fear. They arrived at dusk though in Noctara, dusk never left. The carriage creaked to a halt before towering obsidian gates that groaned open without touch. The castle beyond rose like a jagged wound in the sky: black stone, endless spires, windows that flickered with blue firelight. Vines twisted up the walls, blooming with dark, glowing blossoms. It was alive. She could feel it. The emissary stepped out and held a hand to her. She ignored it and descended on her own. As soon as her foot touched the ground, she felt it. A hum beneath her skin. Like power. Like danger. Like... home? No. She shook it off and straightened. The doors opened before her, and an endless hallway welcomed her in. Dozens of figures watched her silently some guards in bone-black armor, some maids with silver eyes and stitched lips. None spoke. At the end of the hall stood a throne made of stone and shadow. And beside it A figure. Not sitting. Standing. Waiting. He was taller than she expected. Broader. His face was angled and sharp, his hair black as ink. He wore dark armor engraved with arcane runes, and his eyes. They were closed. Until they weren’t. And when they opened, they burned. Red. Ancient. Ageless. She felt her knees tremble but stood firm. Kael Dravyn. The Shadow Prince. He said nothing for a moment. Then he stepped forward, each movement precise, like a predator circling its prey. When he finally spoke, his voice was a blade wrapped in velvet. “You are smaller than I imagined.” Aelira lifted her chin. “You’re ruder than I hoped.” Silence. Then a flicker of something in his eyes. Not amusement. Not anger. Curiosity. “You’ll learn quickly,” he said, voice low. “This is not your world.” She stepped forward. “Then teach me.” He stopped before her, just inches away. His presence was suffocating. Magnetic. Dark. “You’re not afraid,” he murmured. “I am,” she said. “But I came anyway.” Their eyes locked. A heartbeat. Then another. “You may survive here after all,” Kael said softly, turning away. And just before he disappeared into the shadows, he added: “Your chambers are in the East Wing. Do not wander. The castle... bites.”