The night after the peace pact with the Orcs was inked in blood and promise, the Everain royal palace buzzed with rumors. Whispers traveled faster than ravens — tales of the golden-haired prince who entered the Shadowlands and returned not only alive but with an ancient wyrm and the Orc King's blessing at his back.
In his chambers, Prince Min Khant Thu Ya sat on the edge of his bed, staring into a flickering oil lamp, the golden flame dancing in his eyes. It had been a long journey back from the frontier, and though his body ached, his mind whirled with thoughts — not of rest, but of what came next.
"Your Highness," came Aren's voice softly from the side, breaking through his trance. The knight stood in full armor by the balcony door, moonlight casting long shadows behind him.
"What is it, Aren?" Min Khant asked without looking up.
"There's been movement. In the eastern wing. The spies from the Temple faction — they've begun to stir again. Ever since your return, they've grown restless."
Min Khant exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "So they couldn't sit still after all. I suppose walking back in with a wyrm and the Orc King's blessing wasn't something they anticipated."
Aren's eyes narrowed. "They fear you."
"Good. They should."
But just as he said that, a faint knock echoed from the door. It was coded — a pattern known only to the royal siblings. Three quick taps, a pause, then two soft knocks.
"…Second Prince?" Min Khant guessed.
"Let's see," Aren said, stepping forward and opening the door cautiously.
It was indeed Second Prince Naytheon, his features obscured by a traveler's cloak. His silver hair was tied back in a rough knot, and he looked like he'd ridden for days.
"You took your sweet time," Min Khant said, offering him a cup of wine.
"I had to be sure you weren't a ghost or a dopple—" Naytheon paused, sniffing the cup, "—Or poisoned. Gods, how did you come back alive?"
Min Khant chuckled. "Turns out being reborn inside a fantasy novel gives you a few cheat codes."
"What?"
"Never mind."
Naytheon sat opposite him and leaned forward. "There are whispers in the inner court that Father wants to name a new Crown Prince. After your return, the tides shifted. The nobles are confused. Some even think you've been possessed by a higher spirit."
"Let them think that," Min Khant replied with a smirk. "So long as they stay out of my way."
"But you must tread carefully," Naytheon said, suddenly serious. "There's more at play. The Temple Council has begun grooming the Fourth Prince. They want someone they can control."
"Let them try." Min Khant stood, walking to the balcony. "I've seen what's outside the palace walls. Poisoned rivers, monsters hiding in sacred springs, and a world teetering on collapse. If the Temple wants to play their games, they'll learn that this prince doesn't play by their rules."
Behind him, Aren stood silently, ever the loyal shadow.
Just then, a sudden gust of wind swept through the balcony — sharp, unnatural. Min Khant's instincts flared.
"Get back!" he shouted, pushing Naytheon aside.
A blade of shadow slashed through the air, aimed straight for the Second Prince's throat — but it missed by a hair, burying itself into the wooden pillar instead. The attacker landed with silent grace — a figure clad in ceremonial Temple robes, their face masked by enchanted ironwood.
Aren was already moving, sword drawn, engaging the assassin in a blur of silver steel.
Min Khant grabbed his brother and shoved him behind the wall. "Stay down."
"You knew this would happen?" Naytheon demanded.
"I hoped it wouldn't. But I've learned to never rely on hope."
The assassin was fast — too fast. Aren held his own, but he was being pushed back. The Temple's secret corps, the Dusk Blades, trained since childhood to kill without emotion. This was no ordinary cutthroat.
Min Khant's hand moved to the hilt of the ceremonial dagger he'd taken from the Wyrm's cavern — forged with dragonbone, imbued with primal mana.
As the assassin leapt into the air to deliver the final blow to Aren, Min Khant surged forward and drove the dagger into the attacker's exposed side.
The assassin let out a choked gasp, staggering backward.
Min Khant didn't wait — he twisted the blade and whispered, "Return to the void."
The dagger pulsed with light. A shriek echoed in the room as the shadow-clad attacker dissolved into dust, swept away by the very wind they rode in on.
Silence returned.
Aren dropped to one knee, panting. "That was one of the Temple's elite. They'll know you killed them."
"I want them to know," Min Khant said. "Send a message. Let them feel fear for once."
Naytheon, still reeling, sat down hard on the floor. "I can't believe how much you've changed."
Min Khant turned to face him, his expression unreadable. "I died once, brother. And I came back knowing who I must become."
The Next Morning
The palace was in uproar. The bodies of several Temple-aligned informants had been found slain in the eastern gardens. No one knew how. No one saw who did it. But one message was left behind — scrawled in blood on the marble floor:
"The Third Prince returns not as prey… but as predator."
At the throne hall, King Everain sat in silence, staring at the note handed to him. His expression was unreadable, but his hands — they trembled ever so slightly.
Across the room, the royal advisor whispered, "Your Majesty… this prince may shake the very foundation of your reign."
To which the King replied softly, "That's exactly what I fear… and what I hope."
Later That Day – Hidden Chambers Beneath the Palace
Min Khant stood before a sealed gate that hadn't been opened in generations. It bore the ancient sigil of the Everain bloodline — a dragon eating its own tail.
Aren looked at him. "Are you sure this is the path?"
"No," Min Khant said honestly. "But I've decided to walk it anyway."
With a drop of his blood, the seal ignited.
The stone gate groaned open, revealing stairs descending into darkness — where the secrets of the royal family, its betrayals, its bargains with gods and monsters — waited to be unearthed.
And as the three of them — Min Khant, Aren, and Naytheon — stepped into the forgotten crypts of the Everain line, the game that began with a single death… was only just beginning.
To Be Continued...