I could feel one now, a soft but steady pull. Not from the ring, but something near the bed. Turning, I followed the lure, scrutinizing the sword. But the tug came from somewhere near it; my gaze landed on the nightstand. It was simple and unadorned like the rest of the furniture, and starkly immaculate—except for a domed glass case, beneath which rested a small object no larger than my palm.
I stepped towards it curiously to study the mysterious item, my hands hovering just above the glass. It was a broken shard of something once beautiful, its gilded edges worn, filigree faded by time. It might have once belonged to a crown, or perhaps a ceremonial circlet.
Whatever it was, it called to me, like all the most powerful items did. The glass case was locked, but I opened it in one deft movement. Cautiously lifting the lid, I brushed my fingers against the fragment, allowing my power to explore its secrets.
My touch sifted through the layers of memory it carried, the stories etched into its surface like invisible fingerprints. At a glance, it resembled a broken shard of clear glass, its edges smooth as though melted rather than shattered. But beneath the surface, strange patterns pulsed faintly in shifting hues—like starlight glimpsed through storm clouds. It seemed to hum at the edge of hearing, resonating with something inside me I couldn’t name.
A hush fell over me, deeper than silence as I cradled the glass, stroking the smooth edges. My breath caught as the room vanished, held captive in the space between moments. I waitedwith eager anticipation for the story that would soon unfold across my senses.
A flicker appeared, revealing a young man near my own age standing beneath a moonlit archway, a crown in his hands and grief in his eyes. His shoulders bore too much weight for one so young. He turned the crown over in his palms before striking it against the stone. The clear shard I now held broke free and clattered to the floor, catching a glint of moonlight before vanishing into shadow.
I gasped and dropped the fragment as if it had burned me. It landed with a softclinkagainst the desk, and the vision dissolved like mist in sunlight. My heart pounded as I stepped back, a futile attempt to create distance between me and the memory I’d had no business viewing.
This wasn’t just any private chamber, belonging to a diplomat, advisor, royal attendant, or visiting noble—this belonged to the heir to the throne, the missing prince whose disappearance had plunged the kingdom into despair and set its course towards ruin.
The weight of that realization crashed over me. Everyone knew the story that had forever altered our kingdom—the crown prince, beloved by the people, had vanished without a trace several years ago. Whispers claimed he had fallen to a curse no one dared name, others believed him to be assassinated. Regardless of the truth, the royal family kept their silence, and any official mention was forbidden.
Though the prince was still officially classified asmissing, the entire kingdom knew it was merely a diplomatic lie concealing the truth whispered in market stalls and across pub tables: the heir to the throne was dead, leaving no one in the line of succession…along with the uncertainty of what would become of the kingdom once the aging king and queen eventually passed and anarchy alone reigned.
Ever since his disappearance the kingdom had begun crumbling, as if its balance had perished with him. Strange occurrences were spreading to fill every corner of the land—crops withering for no reason, storms raging out of season, entire villages falling to ruin, unrest brewing like a sickness in the air….as if the land itself seemed to be holding its breath, waiting. Hope, like everything else, had begun to fade.
Knowledge of whom this abandoned room belonged to caused me to take in the details with new eyes. It had been recently and painstakingly cleaned, but obviously not occupied in some time. The firewood stacked untouched beside the hearth had grown soft with rot. A layer of dust coated the windowsill beneath the velvet curtains. The ink in the inkwell had dried. The once-fresh flowers in the vase atop the dresser had long since crumbled to petals and dust, though no one had thought to remove them.
This wasn’t the room of someone who’d just stepped out; it was the tomb of someone who’d been gone for a long, long time…and I had just trespassed across its ghost.
I shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t the fear of getting caught, but a sense of respect that even a lifetime of thievery had never been able to extinguish. If His Highness truly was dead, then what I was doing now wasn’t just trespassing—it was grave robbery. That was too far, even for a common thief.
Hundreds of rooms filled the castle, containing thousands of objects. Surely one of them would serve as a proper souvenir from this latest adventure. I would instead steal a forgotten trinket with a trace of memory from a brighter time before the prince had disappeared, the royal family had fractured beneath grief, and the kingdom had begun to fall into the disarray filling the land like a curse.
I turned to leave…only to hesitate at the door, my hand hovering above the knob, held back by a strange connectiondifferent than I’d experienced in my other heists. Curiosity tugged, urging me to linger and explore this unsolved mystery that had plagued the kingdom all of these years: Was the prince truly dead, and if not, where had he gone?
Perhaps it was no coincidence I’d been led astray by those enchanted woods. I’d followed the map as I trailed the fading clues left by my dearest friend who’d suddenly vanished, desperate to solve the puzzle before the last, aging hint disappeared. While I felt almost sure the palace wasn’t the place to find them, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something waited here for me to find. The mystery of the missing prince oddly compelled me, perhaps because of its similarity to my own story.
I took a slow step back into the room, letting my gaze drift back to the desk and the shard I’d dropped, still pulsing with quiet power, drawing my attention like the moon draws the tide. Some unseen force guided my footsteps, drawn by an unspoken need to explore more of its secrets.
I picked up the shard and brushed a fingertip along its edge, just enough to test its memory. But before the magic could stir to life and allow my power to explore its history, I experienced an untimely interruption. A pause stirred the castle’s silence—footsteps against the marble, far too close.
The footsteps drew closer with horrifying speed, sounding now from the corridor just beyond the room I’d chosen to linger in. In my distraction, I’d allowed this room’s memories and mysteries to cause me to lose track of the guards, delaying my escape when I had the chance. The footsteps slowed just outside the door, as if they sensed the presence of an intruder, despite my care not to leave a trace. Then how…
My gaze darted towards the object I’d attempted to steal. Some relics resonated with magic strong enough to disturb the world around them, or were protected by a ward that could have shifted the stillness and alerted the guards. I silently cursedmyself for my carelessness as I spun in a circle, looking for the best escape route.
The footsteps slowed right outside the door. Panic cinched my chest. I hastened towards the door that led to a balcony, fumbling for the latch. Locked. I knelt, pulling a pick from my boot, hands steady even as my pulse raced. But the lock was stubborn. Just one moment more?—
The door flung open. A golden glow spilled across the chamber floor, and sharp steel glinted in the candlelight. Imperial guards flooded the doorway, weapons drawn, expressions hard and unyielding as they faced the thief they’d just caught in the room of their missing prince, the shard I’d stolen from him still in my hand.
Condemned by my own curiosity.
CHAPTER 2
Steel flashed in the candlelight as the guards and I stared at one another—two swords raised against a cloaked stranger caught red-handed in the absent prince’s chamber. For a breathless moment, neither of us moved, the crystal shard—far too valuable to belong to someone like me—gleaming traitorously in my clenched fist.
Then they surged forward. I frantically fumbled for the latch to the balcony door. The lock barring my escape finally yielded beneath the twist of my wrist, but I’d barely begun to turn the knob before a hand like an iron shackle seized my arm and yanked me away from the promise of freedom. I gasped as I stumbled backward, staring wide-eyed at the tall, sandy-haired man who held me in his relentless grip, ice-blue eyes staring down at me expressionlessly.
Another guard slammed the window shut behind me, the bang echoing like a verdict. My lock-pick clattered to the floor, vanishing beneath the bed with a sharp kick from the guard, far out of reach.
I twisted, thrashing like a snared animal to escape the chain created by the muscled arms gripping me. “Let go of me!”
I kicked, elbowed, and managed to drive one boot into a shin with enough force to earn a hiss of pain…but the guard’s hold didn’t loosen, only tightened. Immobility wasn’t enough for me to give up; I continued my struggle…until cold steel pressed against the hollow of my throat.
