The morning air inside the war chamber was heavy with unease. Deep beneath the main palace, behind reinforced stone walls and guarded by elite soldiers, Prince Damien sat at the head of a long iron table, eyes narrowed at the letter spread before him.
"The prince will fall before the next full moon."
The words glared back at him like a curse etched in fire.
Around the table sat Prince Caspian, Alec, and two of the king's most trusted generals Lord Malrick and General Esten. The air vibrated with tension.
"There's no mistaking it," Caspian said, breaking the silence. "House Vellin and House Kray have gone completely dark. No riders, no messengers, not even smoke from their watchtowers. Something's wrong."
"They've been compromised," Damien said coldly. "We must assume the Hollow Flame has infiltrated them or worse, taken full control."
General Esten shifted uncomfortably. "If that's the case, then we may already be surrounded."
"Which is why we strike first," Damien said, standing.
There was a pause. Everyone in the room turned to him, surprised not just by his words but the finality in them.
Damien no longer looked like the carefree prince of the past. His eyes were steel. His posture commanded attention. Even his voice had changed quieter, deeper, unshakably calm.
"I'm not waiting for another blade in the dark. As of this moment, I'm assuming full authority over palace security. Every shift will be reassigned. Every gate will be sealed and re-inspected. And I want the names of every council member who's traveled beyond the capital in the last three months."
Caspian looked over, studying his brother's face. "You're moving fast."
"Too slow, and I'm dead."
"Fair," Caspian muttered.
Damien turned to General Malrick. "Handpick thirty of your best and have them guard the lower halls. No uniforms. I want them watching the watchers."
"Yes, my prince."
He looked to Esten. "Start assembling a loyal shadow unit. I want them trained to act without orders, but loyal only to me. Quiet, invisible, and deadly."
Esten swallowed but nodded. "As you command."
Caspian raised a brow but said nothing yet.
As the generals left, Damien remained by the map, tracing his finger along the valley near House Vellin.
Alec stood quietly by the window, his arms crossed. He hadn't spoken much, but his sharp eyes had been scanning every detail. Now, he stepped forward.
"Whispers are spreading in the halls," he said quietly. "Someone on the council has been leaving coded messages beneath the west wing tapestries. I followed the symbols. They match the ones etched beneath the dead guard's bed."
Damien looked over. "Did you see who left them?"
"Not yet. But I will."
Their eyes met—calm intensity passing between them like electricity. Damien didn't need words to show his gratitude. Alec nodded once and melted back into the shadows.
Caspian waited until Alec was gone before speaking.
"You've changed," he said.
Damien didn't turn around. "I had to."
"No one's questioning your strength, Damien. But I worry " he hesitated, " that you're letting fear and rage steer your crown."
Damien finally turned, his voice low. "I was nearly killed three times in two weeks, Caspian. We've uncovered a centuries-old enemy hiding in our own court. I don't have the luxury of second-guessing myself anymore."
"I'm not asking you to," Caspian replied. "I'm asking you to remember who you are. Don't trade your soul for the throne."
Damien exhaled, then gave a faint nod. "I hear you. But I won't apologize for protecting my life or yours."
The brothers exchanged a long, weighted glance. Then Caspian extended a hand. "We fight this together."
Damien clasped his wrist. "Together."
Elsewhere in the palace, King Lucian stood on the upper balcony of the east wing, gazing down over the training courtyard. His silver crown reflected the rising sun, but his eyes were elsewhere.
A shadow moved beside him. Caspian had returned from the chamber, his face grim.
"He's stronger than we thought," Lucian said, voice laced with pride and concern.
"He is," Caspian agreed.
"And colder."
"He's adapting," Caspian replied. "To survive."
Lucian's gaze didn't move. "The Damien I knew would have joked with the generals. Flirted with the chamber maidens. Laughed at a threat."
Caspian stepped beside his father. "That Damien is still there. He's just buried for now."
Lucian folded his hands behind his back. "The crown demands sacrifices. But I wonder… will my son lose himself to save us?"
Caspian's voice was quiet. "Or maybe he's becoming exactly what this kingdom needs."
They stood in silence, watching the morning drills continue in the yard. Below, unaware of the danger brewing, soldiers trained and servants bustled. But war was coming. It was no longer a question of "if"only "when."
And when it came… Damien would not face it as a boy hiding behind his father's throne.
He would face it as the man already sitting in it.
The palace was quieter than usual at night. The thick stone walls and gold-trimmed corridors echoed faintly with the footsteps of guards on their rounds. Alec moved like a shadow between them, silent and unseen.
He paused outside the study of Lord Varreck one of the elder council members. It had taken weeks of quiet watching, decoding messages, and following trails of ink to confirm his suspicion. Tonight, he would find the truth.
The door was locked, but Alec came prepared. He slipped a thin pick from his sleeve, crouched, and worked silently. After a moment, the bolt clicked.
Inside, the room smelled of ink, wood, and old secrets. He closed the door behind him and moved quickly to the massive oak desk. Parchments littered the surface, but most were decoys. Alec went for the hidden compartment beneath the drawer a trick he'd seen used by spies before. Sure enough, a shallow click rewarded him, and a leather-bound journal slid out.
He flipped it open. Much of it was written in a mixture of cipher and archaic phrasing, but Alec could read between the lines. Names. Schedules. Meetings held at odd hours. And beneath one folded note, a list of symbols matching those left behind by the Hollow Flame faction.
He reached for the journal, intending to take the whole thing but the sound of the latch turning froze him.
Someone was entering....
Alec barely had time to react. He slid the journal back into the drawer, tore out the most important page, and ducked behind a tall cabinet just as the door creaked open.
Boots stepped inside. A figure stood in the doorway for a moment, breathing heavily, then moved toward the desk. Alec held his breath. A chair scraped. Papers shifted. Then silence.
After a full minute, the door shut again. Alec waited ten more before slipping out, the torn page pressed to his chest. On it were several names one of them underlined in red ink: Lord Varreck.
Back in Damien's quarters, the fire was dying. The prince stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back. Caspian entered quietly, his face thoughtful.
"You sent General Esten to interrogate three council aides this morning," Caspian said without preamble.
"They had ties to House Vellin," Damien replied without turning. "It was necessary."
Caspian stepped forward. "Necessary? Damien, you've put half the court under surveillance. The council's afraid of you now. Even loyal men are beginning to whisper."
"I don't need their comfort. I need their obedience."
Caspian's voice hardened. "And what happens when obedience turns to fear? You start ruling like a tyrant?"
Damien turned at that, his eyes sharp. "I'm doing what needs to be done."
"So was Father, when he turned the southern provinces into rubble."
The silence between them burned like oil on fire. Finally, Damien exhaled.
"I'm not our father."
"No," Caspian said gently. "But you're on a path that leads to the same shadows. Just… don't forget who you are, brother. You were once the light in every room."
Damien sat slowly, rubbing his temples. "That light didn't keep us safe."
"No," Caspian agreed. "But it reminded people what they were fighting for."
After a long pause, Damien nodded. "Thank you. For reminding me."
That tension, so tightly wound, loosened. For now.
Later that afternoon, the council gathered in the great stone chamber beneath the throne room. The long crescent table curved around a central dais where Damien now stood no longer waiting for permission or introduction.
His boots echoed as he approached, his cloak trailing behind him like a storm cloud. The councilors sat upright, eyes flicking nervously. Lord Varreck shifted slightly, avoiding eye contact.
Damien's voice rang clear and cold. "This council has grown used to secrets. To lies cloaked in formality and poison dressed as tradition."...No one spoke.
"There will be no more of that."
He scanned the room slowly.
"The next traitor caught conspiring with the Hollow Flame will not receive a trial. There will be no polite hearings. Only swift justice."
A ripple of unease passed through the chamber. Even the eldest councilor, Lord Renald known for never bowing to fear lowered his gaze.
"I will not let this kingdom rot from within while our enemies close in from without."
He turned and left the chamber without waiting for response. The echo of his words lingered long after he was gone.
That evening, a formal announcement was posted in the palace square: a royal banquet was to be held in three days.
A gathering of nobles, generals, and foreign envoys.
The stated purpose was celebration an open display of strength and unity in the face of unrest. But Damien saw it for what it truly was: a test.
Caspian read the announcement aloud while Damien leaned against the railing of the outer courtyard.
"They're baiting you," Caspian said. "Trying to box you into a public event where you can't strike first."
Damien's eyes remained fixed on the horizon. "Or trying to get close enough to kill me."
He turned, lips curling into a grim smile.
"Let them.".....Caspian raised a brow.
"If they want me dead," Damien said, walking back inside, "let them come dressed in silk and smiling."
He paused at the door....."I'll be waiting."