Metanoia

Chapter One

Nael pulled aside the drapes, watching how the sun rose higher and higher in the sky. His gaze fell on the townspeople as they hurried through their morning routines—merchants selling their goods in the square, children laughing as they weaved between stalls. It was a world that felt as distant as the stars.

A knock at the door broke his focus. Nael turned, dropping the curtain and letting the room fall into darkness once more, his jaw clenching as his uncle's steward entered.

“Your Highness,” the steward began, bowing stiffly. “His Grace requests your presence in the council chamber.”

Nael’s stomach tightened in response. “Did he say why?”

The steward hesitated. “No, Your Highness. Only that it is urgent.”

With a sigh, Nael followed him through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle. Servants scurried out of the way, bowing their heads, but Nael knew it was just so they could avoid looking at him head-on. Whispers followed him, soft as the rustle of leaves, but he could feel their weight all the same.

When they reached the council chamber, the atmosphere was as stifling as he’d expected. His uncle, Duke Varnok, stood by the window, his back turned to Nael.

“You certainly took your time,” Varnok said, his voice cutting through the air like a sharp blade. “I suppose punctuality is another thing you’ve failed to inherit from your father.”

Nael’s jaw tightened, but he held his tongue.

Varnok finally turned to face him, his expression unreadable save for the faint glimmer of disdain in his eyes. “Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the lone chair before the long council table.

Nael complied, his movements careful. The room felt colder as Varnok began to speak.

“Your coming of age is fast approaching,” Varnok said, circling Nael like a predator, waiting for him to rise to the bait. “And with it, the expectation that you step into the role your father left behind. Yet here you are, a shadow of the man he was. A disappointment.”

“Your insults are getting quite old, uncle,” he said, tone even; biting back the urge to make a similar, scathing remark. “So if that’s all you have to say to me, I’ll be taking my leave—”

“Sit down,” Varnok snapped, hissing. “You seem to forget everything I've done to preserve this throne in your name. The late king entrusted me with that responsibility the night he died. Do you know what he said to me, boy?”

Nael didn't reply, but he goaded him with a glare that his uncle scoffed at.

“He told me to protect this kingdom at all costs. ‘Should my son prove unfit,’ he said, ‘do what must be done.’”

“That’s a lie.” Nael’s voice dropped to a growl, his composure beginning to crack. “My father would never say that.”

“Wouldn’t he?” Varnok sneered, leaning closer. “You weren’t there when he breathed his last. I was. I watched him bleed out like a dog on the roadside because he trusted the wrong people. Is that the fate you want for yourself, Nael? Or for this kingdom? To fall to ruin because of your weakness?”

Nael’s teeth clenched, but he forced himself to reign in his anger. “Just say what you need to say," he spat out.

Varnok stopped, leaning against the table with an air of finality. “You will leave for the Faelands. Alone. It is said their magic can break curses. If there is any truth to these rumors, you will find it there. Or die trying.”

“Convenient,” Nael deadpanned, leaning back in his seat. “Sending me away solves all your problems, doesn’t it?”

Varnok's smirk widened. “If you fail, it will be proof that you are unfit to rule. If you succeed… Well, even a broken object can be repurposed. Either way, the kingdom prospers.”

Nael rose from his seat, his glare cutting through the tension. “I’ll go if that's what you command. But once I return from my journey, I will reclaim what is rightfully mine."

Varnok's gaze hardened, but he said nothing as Nael turned and walked out. The weight of his uncle’s eyes lingered long even after the doors closed behind him with a resounding thump, sealing his fate.

The knock that sounded on Nael’s door later in the evening was unexpected, firm, and deliberate. Before he could reply, the door swung open, and Thea stepped inside without so much as a hint of hesitation; dressed in satin and lace, her gaze sharp as a knife, she looked every inch the figure of authority she’d always carried herself as.

“Thea,” Nael said, rising to his feet steadily despite the initial shock. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Thea’s eyes swept the room—it’s a rare occasion that she visits after all, so the scenery was always fresh—taking in the covered mirror, the drawn curtains, the suffocating dimness. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Pleasure might not be the word I’d use.”

Nael raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you here?”

She didn’t answer immediately, stepping further into the room and letting the door close behind her. “You leave tomorrow,” she said, her tone as even as ever. “I thought it would be rude not to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Nael repeated flatly, a flicker of incredulity in his voice. “How thoughtful of you.”

Thea crossed her arms, her expression unchanging. “Would you prefer I didn’t?”

“No,” he admitted, his tone just as cold. “I suppose it’s the first time in months anyone’s bothered to come that wasn’t Varnok’s lackeys or the servants looking like they’d rather be anywhere else.”

He scoffed, his words dripping with thinly veiled resentment as he continued. “A sister who’s too ashamed to even visit unless it's convenient, I guess that has to count for something, right?”

Thea didn’t flinch at the bitterness in his voice, but she took a measured step closer. “I didn’t come here to argue, Nael.”

“Then why have you come?” he asked, his tone simmering down to something more placid once the initial rush of anger left his system.

Thea studied him for a moment, her dark eyes piercing but not unkind. “To remind you that leaving isn’t the end,” she stated simply. “And to tell you that not everyone in the castle is as blind as they seem.”

Nael frowned. “What do you mean?”

Thea’s gaze flickered to the back, towards the door, before meeting his again. “Sending you away serves him well, doesn’t it? Convenient, how he frames it as your only chance to redeem yourself. I’ve seen how he operates, Nael. And I have no intention of letting him continue unchecked while you’re gone.” The ‘he’ in question is left unsaid, but Nael already knew who she meant.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Nael asked.

Thea tilted her head slightly. “Because someone has to,” she said. “And because as much as you frustrate me, you’re still my brother. You deserve to know that someone will be watching in your absence.”

A beat of silence passed between them, charged but not hostile. Nael looked at her, trying to read the emotions buried beneath her ever-infallible exterior.

“Thank you.” he said, at last, the words uncertain but genuine as it hung in the air between them.

Thea gave a small nod, as though that was all she needed to hear. “Take care of yourself out there, Nael,” she said, stepping back toward the door. Then, in a voice as dry as ever, she added, “Try not to die. It’d make my job a lot harder.”

The faintest smile tugged at Nael’s lips despite himself. “I’ll do my best.”

Thea opened the door but paused just before stepping out. “Good luck, little brother,” she said without looking back, and as abruptly as she entered, she disappeared.

With a sigh, Nael sank further down on his seat, lost in thought. For the first time in what seemed like years, he felt something stir in his chest other than numbness—a flicker of determination, faint but it was still there.

‘Tomorrow,’ he thinks, his eyes sliding shut. ‘will surely be better than today.’