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Chapter Two: The Lion and the Viper
Prince Alaric Thorne dismounted at the edge of the rebel-cleared camp. The air here stank of smoke, fear, and something else—magic, old and unwelcome. He hated this place. Not because of the forest. Not because of the rebels. But because it reminded him of her.
Seraphine Vale.
The name was a curse in the palace halls. Once nobility, now a ghost. The king never spoke of House Vale, and Alaric had learned not to ask. But he remembered the trial. He had only been sixteen. She, maybe fifteen. And even then, she'd looked at him like she wanted to set the world on fire.
Now she was rumored to lead rebel cells. Dangerous. Elusive. Beautiful.
Not that he cared.
He barked orders to his men, ordering them to sweep the ruins and search for signs of camps. “They’ve been here recently,” he said, kneeling beside the ashes of a dead fire. “They’re watching us.”
“Should we set a trap, Your Highness?” asked Captain Garron.
Alaric hesitated. Something about this felt wrong. Too quiet. Too easy.
“No,” he said. “We press forward. They want us distracted. Keep your eyes open.”
As his soldiers moved through the ruins, Alaric walked alone toward the edge of the clearing. A breeze stirred the leaves, and for a moment, he thought he heard footsteps behind him—soft, deliberate, like someone trained to move without being heard.
He turned sharply. Nothing.
But he felt it.
Someone was watching him.
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Meanwhile…
Seraphine crouched in the trees above, her bow trained on Alaric’s heart.
She had followed him after the column passed, drawn by instinct or rage or maybe both. She could end it now. A prince dead, a blow to the throne that would echo across Eldoria. She had the angle. The distance. The silence.
Her fingers curled around the string.
And then—he looked up.
Directly. Into. Her. Eyes.
Seraphine’s heart stopped.
He didn’t draw his sword. Didn’t call for guards. He just stared. Not in fear. Not in surprise. But recognition.
He knew.
The bowstring slipped from her fingers—not loosed, just released.
She fled into the trees, vanishing like a shadow in the wind.
And Prince Alaric, standing alone among the ruins, whispered her name.
“Seraphine.”
- Writer
