Something in his expression shifted—softening into a tenderness that had been gradually increasing with every interaction—and the space between us changed with it. Not quite friendship, yet still not fully something more. We lingered in that fragile in-between, teetering on the edge of something neither of us dared to name.
After all, he was the crown prince…and I was nothing more than a common thief, who had only met the prince when he caught me breaking into the palace. Amusement had prevented him from turning me in, my visits had become a much-needed break in his royal routine. But it could never go beyond that; Their Majesties would never approve of their only heir entangling himself with the likes of me.
I just had to involve myself in an impossible relationship that would lead to nothing but a dead end, no matter how desperately the secret part of me had begun to yearn for it to become something more.
I broke his gaze first, fearing that if I looked any longer, I might surrender something I had spent my entire life guarding. “Does this relic contain dangerous memories?” I asked, turning the crown over in my hands.
He hesitated. “I don’t know. There are…legends that it was born of a curse.”
My brows lifted, interest sparking. I examined each delicate curve of the ornate metal, every detail of its intricate design, the way each jewel glistened invitingly, beckoning me to explore. “Curses are a challenge I have yet to try my hand at.”
His eyes widened. “Mirelle, I’m serious.” His voice tightened. “I admire your curiosity and adventurous spirit, but not every secret is meant to be uncovered. Some things are better left buried, some memories left unread.”
I had no excuse for what came next, for ignoring him when Evander had given me no reason to distrust him. And yet—whether it was stubbornness, curiosity, or the irresistible pull of the magic itself—I couldn’t turn away. The crown pulsed faintly in my hands, almost in recognition, as though it had finally found what it had been waiting for.
Something within the crown called to me…and I felt compelled to respond. My fingers tightened around the metal. I heard his sharp intake of breath, his frantic, urgent voice calling my name. His hand reached out, curling around the metal frame.
But it was already too late.
For a moment the world stilled. Then something shifted—not the familiar pull of memory unfolding like pages beneath my touch to reveal the story my powers yearned to show me.This was a force I didn’t recognize, though I caught snatches of its story—a battle for power, a king crowned against the will of an ancient rival, a bitter desire for revenge, an incantation woven through threads of gold, and a promise to one day bring ruin to the kingdom.
To my shock I saw my own face…though not quite my features, but the resemblance was unmistakable. A young mage, standing before the newly crowned king, whose shoulders hunched in despair.
“I cannot break the curse,” the woman who must have been my distant ancestor said in a voice of sorrow. “It will undoubtedly be triggered one day, though I know not how. All I can do is change its course. Instead of death to the kingdom, it will bring a magical sleep to everyone except the bearer of this crown, a sleep that will last until he discovers the way to awaken them.”
The king lifted his desperate grey eyes to the mage. “What is the way?”
“I do not yet know, only that it exists…there is always a way for evil to be overcome.” She bowed her head and turned away, and my attention returned to the present. Desperately, I reached out with my magic as though I could stop the curse from taking effect, but my feeble efforts were fruitless.
A wave of darkness spilled outward from the crown, a cold, suffocating presence that pressed into my chest and stole the air from my lungs. A tremor rippled through the stones beneath my feet, spreading outward like a crack in glass—through the walls, the floors, the very structure of the castle itself.
As I watched, another vision formed before me. The mage I’d seen before stood in the throne room once more; this time she was bent with age, her thin hair streaked with silver. The king on the throne was different—a young man with Evander’s nose, sitting rigid with hope and fear as he listened to the mage.
“I have bound the curse to my blood,” she said, her voice quiet and weary. “When the sleep descends, it will pull everyone in this kingdom into a separate world of dreams, but their bodies will remain alive here, waiting to be awakened. You must find me in the dream world, and use my power to create the path back.”
The young king’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you look so sad at having discovered the secret? What are you hiding from me?”
The mage sighed. “Like I said, I am bound to the curse. I will open the path, but only one of us can go through.”
“What if…” the king hesitated. “What if this doesn’t happen in your lifetime? How will the kingdom overcome the curse?”
The mage bowed her head. “I never imagined it would take so long to activate. I still dearly hope it will be before I die, so that my descendants do not have to bear this weight. My son—” Her voice cracked and she took a wavering breath to steady it. “—my son has disappeared, taking my granddaughter into hiding because he fears this responsibility one day falling on her. I pray she’ll be able to use the magic of our family to discover the truth in the memories left behind.”
I stumbled back as realization struck in a cascade: my lifetime of no identity save that of a thief, my power to awaken memories and discover past secrets, the curse now pouring out of the crown grasped in my hands.
The terrible darkness spread further, unstoppable. I felt it moving beyond the palace, racing through corridors, sweeping across courtyards, spilling into the kingdom beyond like a silent tide.
Icy terror seeped over me as people froze mid-step. A servant collapsed where she stood, a tray shattering beside her as sleep claimed her before the sound could finish echoing. A guard slumped against the wall, his weapon slipping from his grasp. Laughter cut short in the marketplace, voices swallowedmid-word as sleep claimed their speakers. One by one, they fell, as though something had reached inside them and extinguished their waking selves.
The curse moved like a shadow devouring light, until the entire kingdom had been claimed, leaving behind absolute silence. The entire kingdom, asleep, save for one point of resistance, a single presence that had not yielded: Evander, the slumbering kingdom’s crown prince.
As though the curse itself had only just become aware of me, the extending darkness turned towards me, reaching its inky tentacles to engulf me. They tightened around me, sinking deeper—curling through my veins, wrapping around my thoughts. My vision blurred as drowsiness encircled me in its seductive embrace, gently luring me into the darkness. My body weakened, threatening to crumple.
“Mirelle!” Evander reached me in a single stride, his hand closing around mine. The crown clattered to the ground as my legs gave way; Evander’s protective hold encircled me, the only thing keeping me from falling.
Just before darkness consumed me, I heard him. His voice, broken and desperate, calling my name. “Mirelle?—”
I turned my head, struggling to focus. Gradually, his face came into view. He stared down at me with wild desperation, while also looking wide awake, as if he alone was immune to the cursed sleep descending across his kingdom.
