Born to Kill the King: A Game of Masks

The night in the dream always began too quietly. No wind. No voices. Not even the sound of insects hidden in the grass. The forest felt suspended in a strange stillness, as if the world itself had taken a breath and forgotten to release it. I was running before I understood why. Cold air burned in my lungs while branches lashed across my arms, leaving sharp lines of pain that vanished beneath the pounding rhythm of my heart. Every step felt desperate and uneven, my feet slipping over damp leaves and exposed roots that clawed at my balance. Something behind me moved, but I never turned to see it. I didn’t need proof to know it was there. The smell arrived first—smoke laced with iron and the sickening sweetness of something burned far too long. It clung to the inside of my throat until breathing became a struggle between survival and nausea. A memory forced its way into the darkness. Firelight swallowing walls. Shadows moving where they shouldn’t exist. Then hands that failed to reach me in time. My chest tightened as if the dream itself wanted to crush the air from my lungs. I pushed forward anyway, stumbling downhill toward a narrow clearing that opened beneath a sky choked by smoke. My foot caught on a root I didn’t see. The ground rushed upward. Impact burst through my bones and left the world spinning in fractured fragments of light. Dirt filled my mouth when I tried to breathe, and panic rose sharp and fast as I forced myself onto trembling hands. That was when I heard the footsteps. They were measured, too calm and unhurried. It wasn't the frantic rush of pursuit, and that scared me the most. The slow certainty of someone who already knew how this would end. I pressed my palms into the cold earth and lifted my head, every instinct screaming to run even though my body refused to cooperate. The trees loomed like silent witnesses, their shadows stretching toward me in thin, skeletal lines. Just then the footsteps stopped. Silence returned, heavier than before, and the second I thought it was over, laughter drifted through the clearing, low and amused — the kind you would rather run away from — as though my struggle had provided rather delightful entertainment. Rage surged in my veins so suddenly it startled me awake. My eyes snapped open to darkness and the familiar ceiling above my bed. For a moment I lay perfectly still, listening to the echo of my heartbeat thundering in my ears as the dream loosened its grip on reality. The room smelled faintly of cold stone and night air drifting through the cracked window. No smoke. No fire. No shadows waiting in the trees. Just another nightmare refusing to fade quietly. I sat up very quickly, pressing my palm against my chest as if that could force my breathing into something steadier. Sleep had already retreated too far to chase, leaving the restless energy of adrenaline buzzing beneath my skin. Staying in bed would only make the memories louder. I woke with a sharp breath, the darkness of the room rushing back into focus as the nightmare loosened its grip. My heart still pounded against my ribs as if it hadn’t realized the danger was gone. Sleep was no longer an option. The silence of the room felt too heavy, the air too warm against my skin. I needed space. Distance. Something real to remind me the dream had stayed behind my eyelids. I slipped on a black jacket and stepped into the corridor, the academy halls empty in the deep hours before sunrise. Lanterns cast soft pools of light across the marble floor, their glow fading as I pushed open the door leading outside. Cold air met me instantly, sharp and clean enough to chase away the lingering haze of sleep. The grounds stretched quiet and still beneath a sky that was only beginning to pale at the horizon. The world felt suspended in that fragile moment between night and morning. I walked without direction, letting the cool breeze steady my breathing until the tightness in my chest slowly began to ease. “You’re out early.” The voice broke the silence before I saw him. A tall figure leaned against the stone railing near the edge of the courtyard, as though he had been watching the sky change color long before I arrived. I stopped walking. He pushed himself upright, his posture relaxed in a way that suggested he was perfectly comfortable being exactly where he was. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked. His voice carried easily through the quiet courtyard. I folded my arms. “That depends. Were you planning to interrogate the first person you saw?” A faint smile touched his lips. “Only the interesting ones.” I studied him carefully, trying to decide whether the confidence in his tone came from arrogance or certainty. Either way, it was as irritating as always, but my curiosity got the best of me. “And what makes you think I fall into that category?” I asked. “You came outside before sunrise,” he replied. “Most people here avoid mornings unless they’re forced.” “That’s hardly evidence.” I replied, trying to figure out what he was up to this time, but he only smiled widely and spoke out without any hesitation. “It’s enough to start a conversation.” Silence settled between us for a moment, broken only by the faint rustle of wind through the trees beyond the courtyard walls. He studied me for a moment, as if deciding where to begin. “You disappear when you can’t sleep,” He said quietly, as if afraid that choosing the wrong word might make me disappear. I raised an eyebrow. My sentence a statement rather than a question. “You’ve been paying attention.” “It’s hard not to,” Sebastian said, a faint hint of amusement softening his voice as he pushed himself away from the railing. His gaze stayed fixed on me like he was measuring my reaction. I crossed my arms, unimpressed by the attention. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.” He tilted his head slightly, considering me for a moment before answering, as if deciding how much he wanted to reveal. “I was hoping I’d run into you.” His expression shifted, the easy amusement fading into something more deliberate. That answer made me pause. “Why?” “Because you want something,” he said simply. I frowned. “You don’t get to pretend you know me that well.” “I don’t pretend,” he replied. “I observe.” The word landed heavier than expected. “And what makes you think that matters to you?” I asked. His gaze held mine steadily, the hint of a smile returning as if he had been waiting for that question. “Because I can offer you the one thing this academy makes everyone fight for.” My pulse skipped once despite my efforts to remain unimpressed. “And what would that be?” He took a step closer, close enough that the quiet between us felt suddenly charged with possibility. “A real chance to be chosen.” The words settled in the space between us, tempting and dangerous in equal measure. “And why would you offer that to me?” I asked quietly. “Because I think you’ll say yes.” Silence stretched as the first hint of sunrise touched the horizon behind him. “Say yes to what?” I pressed. His smile deepened just enough to feel like a promise. “To a deal that could change everything.”