The haunted palace

Chapter 7 : the awakening

Aria stared at the dagger, her reflection shimmering along the blade. Behind her, the palace walls began to tremble. Dust fell from the ceiling like falling ash.

Dr. Fen clutched his satchel, eyes wide. “Whatever happens, we have to move fast. The palace is waking.”

Aria picked up the dagger. It was lighter than she expected, yet it thrummed with power, alive in her hand. The sigil on the hilt matched the one her father had worn on his armor—the royal crest. Only twisted.

She turned to the hooded man. “If my blood ends the curse, then you don’t need to kill me. I’ll do it myself.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know what it demands.”

“I know it’s taken enough.” Her gaze hardened. “And I’m done letting it choose.”

The chamber walls began to shift, pulling apart to reveal a hidden passage—an ancient hall lined with statues of weeping angels. At the far end, a grand door stood ajar, golden light pouring from within.

They stepped inside—and gasped.

The throne room.

It was untouched, frozen in the moment of the m******e. The king’s throne was toppled, banners burned, bloodstains still dark on the marble floor. And at the center of the room, chained by spectral vines, was the ghost of King Alden IV.

His eyes opened as they entered. “So it ends,” he murmured.

Aria stepped closer. “Why keep this curse alive? Haven’t you punished enough?”

The ghost smiled faintly. “You think I control it? I am the curse. My rage bound the palace to vengeance. My soul was tied to the blood that betrayed me. Only the same blood can set me free.”

“Then take it,” Aria whispered, raising the dagger. “End it.”

Dr. Fen grabbed her wrist. “Aria, no! There must be another way.”

The ghost king’s voice thundered, shaking the walls. “One life for all! One death to cleanse the bloodline!”

The hooded man stepped between them, his voice breaking. “It’s not her the curse wants—it’s me.”

They both turned. He pulled back his hood completely, revealing his full face—and Aria gasped. His features were eerily familiar.

“I am what your father tried to save,” he said quietly. “I am the king’s son—the last heir. I survived the m******e because of his betrayal. The curse kept me alive… twisted, half-shadow, bound to guard this place until justice was done.”

Dr. Fen whispered, “You’re the prince.”

The man nodded slowly. “And the curse demands the death of the betrayer’s line. But I see now—the vengeance was mine, not the palace’s. It’s my hatred that kept it alive.”

He turned toward Aria. “If one of us dies, the other can live free. So let it be me.”

Before she could stop him, he took the dagger and drove it into his own chest.

A burst of blue light erupted through the hall. The ghost king screamed—not in anger, but in release. The chains shattered, the throne room dissolving into white fire. The walls cracked, mirrors exploding one by one.

Dr. Fen shielded Aria as wind roared through the palace. The prince’s body turned to dust, his voice echoing faintly: “Forgive us… both.”

And then everything went silent.