CHAPTER THREE — The Garden of Shadows
The great hall of Nightfall Palace was filled with royalty, nobles, and council members — all dressed in black and silver. Laughter echoed from every corner, but Kira heard none of it.
He hated gatherings.
He hated crowds.
But most of all…
He hated the man sitting at the head of the table.
King Raelor.
His father.
The man who murdered the only woman Kira had ever loved — his mother.
Kira entered in silence, his long cloak trailing behind him like a dark storm. Every servant in the hall stepped aside instantly. Some bowed. Most trembled.
But King Raelor smiled.
A smile Kira despised more than anything.
"Ah," the king said loudly, lifting a goblet of bloodwine, "my son finally joins us."
The nobles applauded politely, but Kira's cold gaze silenced the room within seconds.
He walked forward and took his place beside the king — only because tradition demanded it. The moment he sat, Raelor leaned closer.
"You were late."
"And yet I'm here," Kira replied coldly.
The king chuckled.
A sound that made Kira's jaw tighten.
"Still bitter?" Raelor whispered so only Kira could hear.
"It's been years, boy."
Kira said nothing.
But the memory burned.
His mother's soft smile.
Her gentle touch.
Her warm laugh.
And the night everything changed.
The curse demanded that every prince must kill their first love. Kira's mother — a queen chosen by love, not politics — believed she could break it.
Raelor proved her wrong.
He killed her himself… to save his own throne.
To maintain the curse.
To keep the power.
Kira had been eleven.
And he never forgot the look in her eyes as the light faded.
Since that night, he made a vow:
Never love.
Never trust.
Never give anyone the power to be taken from him.
King Raelor raised his goblet again, addressing the hall.
"Tonight, we gather to celebrate unity within the royal bloodline. And to remind the prince"—he placed a heavy hand on Kira's shoulder—"of his duty."
Kira's fingers curled against the table.
His duty.
That cursed word.
His father's grip tightened.
"You cannot run from fate, son."
"I don't plan to run," Kira said quietly.
"I plan to break it."
The hall went silent.
King Raelor turned slowly, eyes narrowing. "Mind your tongue."
But Kira wasn't afraid.
He never feared anything… except love.
And losing it.
The meeting continued, but Kira's mind was elsewhere. The walls felt suffocating. The smell of perfume and bloodwine made his stomach twist.
He needed to get out.
As soon as the king dismissed the gathering, Kira left the hall without a backward glance. Servants scattered out of his path as he strode down the corridor, cape whipping like a shadow behind him.
He stepped into the cold night garden — his sanctuary.
His mother used to bring him here.
The roses still glowed with faint silver magic she once nurtured.
Kira's voice was barely a whisper.
"I will never love."
A cold wind answered him, carrying a whisper through the trees…
A heart approaches.
A light you cannot destroy.
A fate you cannot escape.
Kira stiffened.
He hated prophecies.
He hated destiny.
Most of all…
he hated the idea that something was coming for him — something that could force him to feel.
He turned away sharply, cloak swirling.
He didn't know that at that exact moment…
Helena, miles away, had finally made her decision:
She would go to the palace.
A choice that would shatter both their worlds.