Chapter 1 : The Weight Of The Crown
Crown Prince Victor stood on the high balcony of the Valyrian palace, the vast expanse of his empire unfolding beneath him. The city was a labyrinth of light and shadow, the moon casting an ethereal glow over the buildings, streets, and forests that stretched far beyond the palace walls. The night air was cool, but the weight on his chest was suffocating.
Victor’s eyes, dark and troubled, traced the winding paths of the city, his mind lost in thoughts of the Luminarian Dominion. The tensions between the two empires had escalated again. His mother, Empress Tamara, had tried everything—negotiations, compromises, diplomacy—but nothing seemed to bring peace any closer. Each letter from the Dominion, each failed attempt, only brought more distance.
He held a sealed letter in his hand, its edges crinkled from the grip of his fingers. Another rejection—another snub from the Luminarian Empire. His jaw tightened as he read the message again, its words filled with defiance and arrogance.
With a frustrated growl, he crumpled the letter in his fist. The paper tore under his grip, the ink smeared with the anger that pulsed through him. Peace seemed like an impossible dream, yet it was what his heart longed for.
But he was the heir to the throne—he had no room for weakness. Duty demanded strength, and he struggled to reconcile the man he wanted to be with the ruler he was expected to become.
“Thinking too hard for a prince?”
Victor’s eyes snapped toward the door. There stood Lordess Commander Devorah, her sharp tone cutting through the silence. She leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him with an unreadable expression.
Victor couldn’t help but let out a tired chuckle. “It’s a heavy crown, Devorah. You wouldn’t understand.”
She raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’d be surprised. But I’m not here to lecture you on royal burdens.” She pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer. “I take it that’s another rejection?”
He nodded, throwing the crumpled letter into the wind. It fluttered away, disappearing into the night.
Devorah’s gaze turned toward the distant horizon, her expression hardening. “I don’t know how much longer your mother’s efforts will hold. The Dominion isn’t playing fair, Victor. We need to prepare for the worst.”
Victor’s chest tightened at her words. He could always count on Devorah to be brutally honest, her loyalty to the Valyrian Empire unwavering. She wasn’t here to make him feel better; she was here to push him to face the reality of their situation.
“Is that why you’re really here?” he asked, turning to face her fully. “To remind me that war might be the only answer?”
Devorah shrugged, unfazed. “Someone has to. Your mother’s not going to keep the peace forever, and you can’t keep pretending the world’s not on the edge of chaos.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “And where does that leave you?”
She gave him a knowing smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It leaves me where I’ve always been. On the front lines. Literally.”
There was a brief silence between them, a moment of understanding that passed like a shadow over the balcony. Devorah was about to leave on a mission—one that would take her into the heart of the enemy's territory. But before she did, she had one more thing to say.
“There’s movement in the Dominion,” she added, her voice lower now. “Something’s happening. We don’t know what yet, but it’s big. Keep your eyes open.”
Victor’s hand tightened around the railing as his gaze drifted back to the dark, distant horizon. The quiet of the night felt like a fragile lie, one that couldn’t hold much longer.
Devorah’s words echoed in his mind: peace may no longer be an option.
