🌌 The Cursed Prince Forbidden Love

Chapter 10-The Monster They Made

Chapter 10 – The Monster They Made

The clash of steel rang through the throne room, deafening and final.

My uncle’s guards rushed me in waves, but the shadows struck with me—faster, sharper, hungrier than any blade. Their cries filled the marble hall, then fell into silence one by one, until only he remained.

My uncle.

He stood before the throne that he had stolen, his face pale though his hand clutched his sword with feigned strength. The crown sat crooked on his head, its gleam marred by the blood spattered across its surface.

“Reino,” he spat, his voice shaking despite his effort to steady it. “You were always weak. A crippled boy, crawling where a prince should walk. Do you think wielding shadows makes you king?”

The shadows answered before I could. They coiled around his blade, snuffing out its shine. His hand trembled. His knees buckled.

And I moved.

The strike was quick, brutal, final. His body collapsed at the base of the throne, his eyes still wide in disbelief as the last breath left him.

The crown slid from his head, rolling across the blood-stained marble until it came to rest at my feet.

At last—I had taken back what was mine.

I bent, lifting it with trembling hands. For a moment—just a fleeting heartbeat—I saw my mother’s face in its reflection. Saw the boy I once was. Saw the dream I had carried, through pain and exile, through blood and betrayal.

But as I raised it toward my brow, the whispers began.

The crown slipped from my fingers, clattering against the marble.

I no longer deserved to touch it.

The whispers grew into screams inside my head, dragging me to my knees.

Feed me. More. Again.

I pressed my hands to my ears, but the voices were not outside—they were inside. My veins burned, shadows writhing beneath my skin, desperate to tear free.

“Enough!” I cried. My voice cracked. “I’ve given you everything!”

The laugh that answered hollowed my chest. Cold. Mocking. Eternal.

Not everything. Not yet.

And then the shadow moved through me. My body was no longer mine. My hands rose, trembling, reaching for the nearest servant who had survived by hiding among the columns. His eyes widened as he crawled back, whispering prayers.

“No—no, don’t!” I begged, but my feet dragged forward. My hands gripped his throat. His tears fell against my wrists as I tried to let go. I tried.

But the shadows squeezed tighter. His last breath rattled against my palm. His body fell limp at my feet.

The darkness hummed like a satisfied beast.

More. You will never stop. You are mine.

I collapsed beside the boy’s body, shaking. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen. His face—still innocent, still terrified—burned into my memory.

I had become worse than my uncle. Worse than the man I killed.

Because at least he had chosen his cruelty.

I… I had lost the right to choose.

The palace gates burst open.

The villagers flooded inside. Their eyes were wide with fear, but their hands were outstretched—not in anger, but in desperate hope.

“Prince Reino!” a woman cried, clutching her child. “Please—control it! Fight it!”

“Save us, my lord!” a man fell to his knees, pressing his forehead into the blood-soaked stones. “You are still our prince!”

Their voices cut me open. I wanted to answer, to tell them I was still here. Still human. But the shadows surged, curling around my arms, hissing in my ears.

They beg because they do not understand. Show them what you are now.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head violently. “Leave them alone!”

The darkness only laughed.

Then—from the crowd—a servant stepped forward. His face pale, his body trembling, he fell to his knees.

“Forgive me, my prince! Please, spare me! Spare my family!”

The shadow stilled. It twisted tighter around me. Golden eyes flickered in the dark, and the world shifted.

The courtyard. Years ago.

The old tree at the edge of the garden.

And me, sitting beneath it—legs useless, cane at my side, fists clenched in silent shame.

Laughter. Cruel and sharp.

That same servant stood with another, pointing at me.

“What a useless prince. Can’t even walk!”

The other sneered, spitting into the dirt. “How can he ever rule? If not for his mother, he wouldn’t even belong in this palace.”

“Reino belongs in the street,” the first jeered. “Or in the fields, working like the dogs. Not in silk. Not in a prince’s bed.”

Their laughter echoed louder than my sobs.

The vision shattered.

The same man knelt before me now, broken and begging. His forehead pressed to the stone, his tears soaking it.

“Please… please, my prince. I was a fool. Forgive me.”

Hot tears blurred my vision. I remembered every word, every sneer, every cruelty that told me I wasn’t fit to live, much less to rule.

And now—he begged me as if I were his last hope.

“Stop,” I begged the shadows. “Please… let me spare him.”

The darkness pressed closer, whispering against my soul.

Spare him? He never spared you.

And laughter returned—not from the servant, but from the shadow itself, echoing every wound carved into me by words and memory.

“You don’t understand,” I choked, tears falling onto the man’s back. “I don’t want this. I never wanted this!”

But the shadow forced my hand to rise. Black tendrils slithered from my palm, wrapping around his throat.

His wife screamed. His children clung to her skirts, sobbing.

I screamed too, shaking my head violently. “NO! He has a family! Please! Not them—”

But the shadows squeezed.

His lips formed my name, as if I could save him.

And then—silence.

His body fell at my feet.

I dropped to my knees, sobbing openly now. My tears fell onto the stone, mixing with his blood.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, though the words felt useless. “I’m so sorry.”

The villagers’ cries filled the hall, but all I could hear was the shadow’s cruel laughter. Louder. Stronger. Endless.

And I realized—

Though I had taken back the throne, though I had destroyed my uncle…

I had not won.

I had not only lost my kingdom.

I had lost myself.

The villagers’ cries echoed through the shattered throne room, a storm of grief and fear. Some still knelt, begging me to fight whatever monster had taken root in my soul. Others fled, dragging their children into the night, their hope crumbling with every step.

The shadow pulsed inside me, gloating, feeding, growing stronger with each tear shed in my presence.

You see, Reino? it whispered.

They will never love you. They will never follow you. They will only fear you—and fear is the truest crown.

My hands trembled. My chest burned. Part of me wanted to surrender, to let the shadow finish what it had started. But another part—the smallest, weakest spark—clung stubbornly to the boy who once dreamed of being more than a cripple, more than a curse.

I lifted my head. The throne loomed above me, wreathed in shadow and blood. The kingdom was mine, yet it was farther away than it had ever been.

And beyond the palace walls, I felt it—an unease stirring in the land, a rebellion waiting to be born.

Because monsters may sit on thrones.

But people do not bow to monsters forever.