THE PRISONER OF THE SHADOW KING

The Prisoner of Blackthorn  The night my family died, the moon turned red. I remember that much. Not the screams. Not the blood. Not the face of the person who stood over my mother. Only the moon. Huge. Crimson. Hanging above the palace like an open wound in the sky. And a voice whispering my name. “Elara.” I opened my eyes. Cold iron pressed against my wrists. For several seconds, I didn't move. Rain struck the carriage roof in a violent rhythm, drowning out the sound of the horses outside. My body ached from the journey, and my hands were bound so tightly that my fingers had gone numb. Then I remembered. The palace. The bodies. The trial. The sentence. Blackthorn Prison. A bitter laugh escaped me. “So this is where they send murderers.” The guard sitting opposite me didn't answer. He wore the black uniform of the royal executioners, his face hidden beneath a metal mask. A sword rested against his shoulder. I looked down at my wrists. “I didn't kill them.” Nothing. “My family was already dead when I woke up.” Still nothing. I leaned back against the wooden wall. “Of course. Why would anyone listen to the murderer?” The guard finally spoke. “You should save your breath.” His voice was low. “Blackthorn doesn't care whether you're innocent.” I stared at him. “What does that mean?” He turned toward the carriage window. “It means nobody leaves.” Something cold settled inside my chest. Outside, thunder rolled across the mountains. Then I saw it. Blackthorn. The prison rose from the darkness like a fortress built by something that hated the living. Its towers disappeared into the clouds. Black stone walls surrounded it on every side, covered in strange silver symbols that glowed faintly beneath the rain. There were no villages nearby. No roads. No lights. Only mountains. And the prison. The carriage stopped. The doors opened. Cold air hit my face. A line of guards stood waiting. At the center of them was a man. Tall. Completely dressed in black. He wasn't wearing a crown. He didn't need one. Everyone around him stood perfectly still. His dark hair was damp from the rain, falling slightly across his forehead. His face was sharp, almost unnaturally perfect, but it was his eyes that made me stop breathing. Silver. Not grey. Not blue. Silver. They looked at me with an expression I couldn't understand. Not hatred. Not curiosity. Something far worse. Recognition. The guard beside me grabbed my arm. I stepped down from the carriage. The man didn't move. “Who is that?” I whispered. Nobody answered. Then one of the guards lowered his head. “Your Majesty.” My stomach dropped. The Shadow King. Kael Draven. The ruler of Nocthar. The man every kingdom warned their children about. The man whose army had never lost a war. The man people said could command shadows themselves. My eyes returned to him. His gaze never left mine. Kael slowly walked toward me. One step. Then another. Until he was standing only a few feet away. For some reason, my heart began beating faster. Not because I was afraid. At least, that was what I told myself. His eyes moved over my face. Almost painfully slowly. Then he whispered, “You came back.” I frowned. “What?” His jaw tightened. “You don't remember.” It wasn't a question. I pulled my arm from the guard's grip. “I've never been here before.” Kael stared at me. For a moment, something almost human crossed his face. Pain. Then it disappeared. “You always say that.” I froze. “What did you say?” He stepped closer. “You don't remember me.” I shook my head. “I've never seen you in my life.” His eyes darkened. “That's what they wanted.” A gust of wind swept through the courtyard. The torches around us flickered simultaneously. Every flame went out. Darkness swallowed the courtyard. Someone screamed. Then— The shadows moved. They crawled across the ground like living things, stretching toward me. I stepped back. “What the hell—” Kael raised one hand. Instantly, the shadows stopped. The torches reignited. Nobody spoke. Kael continued staring at me. “Take her to the lower wing.” A guard hesitated. “Your Majesty, the lower wing hasn't been opened in—” “Take her.” His voice was quiet. But the command carried through the entire courtyard. The guard bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.” I looked at Kael. “You're the king. If you believe I'm guilty, why am I not being executed?” For the first time, his expression changed. “You're not here because you killed the royal family.” My heart stopped. “Then why am I here?” Kael looked toward the eastern side of the fortress. The massive black wall seemed to disappear into the clouds. “Because Blackthorn is the only place that can hold you.” “Hold me?” He looked back at me. His silver eyes were terrifying. “And the only place that might keep you alive.” Before I could ask what he meant, he turned away. I watched him walk into the darkness. Something about him felt familiar. Not his face. Not his voice. Something deeper. Something I couldn't explain. Like remembering a dream after waking up. Except this dream felt like it had once been real. The lower wing was colder than the rest of the prison. The walls were made of ancient black stone, covered with scratches and symbols I couldn't understand. There were no windows. No candles. Only blue flames burning inside iron bowls. The guard stopped in front of a cell. “Inside.” I looked through the bars. A narrow bed. A wooden table. A bucket. Nothing else. “This is supposed to be a cell?” He smiled beneath his mask. “This is Blackthorn.” He unlocked the door. I stepped inside. The moment I crossed the threshold, every blue flame went out. The guard froze. Then he looked at me. Fear flashed across his face. “What?” He quickly shut the door. “Wait!” His footsteps disappeared down the corridor. I stood alone in darkness. “Great.” I walked toward the bed and sat down. My hands were still shaking. I tried to remember the night my family died. Nothing. Every time I reached for the memory, my head filled with static. Then— Scratch. I looked toward the wall. Silence. I waited. Scratch. Again. Three slow scratches. I stood. “Who's there?” No answer. I walked toward the wall. Another scratch. This time, it came from inside. I placed my palm against the cold stone. The wall was warm. My breath caught. Then a voice whispered from the other side. “Elara.” I pulled my hand away. “Who's there?” Nothing. I backed away. The voice came again. Closer. “You came back.” My heart slammed against my ribs. “I don't know what you're talking about.” A strange pressure filled the room. The darkness around me began moving. Then the world disappeared. I was standing somewhere else. A throne room. The floor was covered in blood. The moon outside the enormous windows was red. Someone was screaming. I looked down. I was wearing a black dress. A crown rested on my head. Not a royal crown. Something darker. Something ancient. Then I saw him. Kael. He was standing in front of me, covered in blood. His hands were trembling. I'd never seen the Shadow King look afraid. Until that moment. He reached for me. “Elara.” I stepped backward. “What happened?” His expression broke. “You weren't supposed to remember.” “Remember what?” He grabbed my face gently. His forehead touched mine. “Listen to me.” His voice was desperate. “If you remember me, they'll find you.” “Who?” “Them.” A scream echoed through the throne room. Kael pulled me against him. “I'll find you again.” Then something pierced through my chest. I gasped. His arms tightened around me. “No!” The vision shattered. I fell onto the floor of my cell. I couldn't breathe. My hand flew to my chest. There was no wound. But I could still feel it. The pain. His arms. His voice. I'll find you again. I squeezed my eyes shut. “No.” A whisper answered from the wall. “This is the fourth time.” I opened my eyes. “What?” Silence. Then— “They erased you again.” My blood ran cold. The cell door suddenly opened. Kael stood outside. I scrambled to my feet. “How did you—” “You saw something.” It wasn't a question. I stared at him. “How do you know?” He stepped inside. The door closed behind him. For the first time, we were completely alone. He looked at my face. Then at my trembling hands. “You saw the throne.” I said nothing. “The red moon.” My breath caught. “And me.” I stared at him. “How?” Kael walked closer. “You've been here before.” “No.” “You have.” “I would remember.” His expression became unbearably sad. “You don't.” I shook my head. “Who am I?” He stopped directly in front of me. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then he whispered, “Someone who has died three times.” My stomach turned. “What?” “You heard the voice.” I couldn't speak. Kael looked toward the wall. “The Hollow has awakened.” A deep sound rumbled beneath the floor. The entire prison shook. Dust fell from the ceiling. Then came a sound from somewhere far below us. A laugh. Slow. Deep. Not human. Kael's face changed instantly. “Stay here.” I grabbed his sleeve. “Wait.” He looked down at my hand. Something flickered in his eyes. Recognition. Pain. Possession. Then he gently removed my fingers. “Whatever you hear tonight…” He looked directly into my eyes. “Do not answer it.” He turned to leave. But before he reached the door, a voice echoed through the walls. “Welcome home, Elara.” Kael stopped. For the first time since I had met him, the Shadow King looked afraid. And beneath Blackthorn Prison— something began to wake.