Aira blinked against the dancing blur of light, her ears still ringing from the explosion. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of burning earth. She coughed, reaching out blindly.
"Lucien?" Her voice cracked.
A shadow moved near her. Then another. But it wasn't Lucien.
A tall figure emerged through the haze, dressed in a long black coat, his face hidden behind a silver half-mask. Only his lips were visible — curled into a cruel smile.
"You're finally awake, heir of light," he said calmly, his voice cold as ice.
Aira scrambled backward, heart pounding. "Who are you?"
The man tilted his head. "You've met my brother already. I'm the other one — the one they erased from the royal scrolls."
Aira's eyes widened. Another sibling?
Before she could react, chains wrapped around her wrists — cold, glowing with cursed runes. She gasped in pain.
"Lucien will find me," she hissed.
"Oh, I'm counting on it," the masked man said. "Let's see how far the Devil Heir is willing to fall… to save you."
Suddenly, a loud boom echoed through the forest. Flames erupted at the edge of the battlefield.
Lucien.
Aira smiled — just a little.
But the masked man only chuckled. "It's time he learns what you really are, Aira."
She frowned. "What… I really am?"
He leaned closer, whispering the words like poison: "You're not just the light. You're also the curse."
Then everything went black again.
Lucien moved like a demon unleashed.
Flames roared around him, his eyes glowing a dark crimson as he cut through the cursed creatures swarming the forest. With every swing of his blade, the air cracked with power, but his heart beat to only one thought:
Aira.
He had seen her fall. Had felt the thread that tied them shudder violently — and now, nothing.
"She's still alive," he growled, blood dripping from his lip. "She has to be."
Suddenly, a raven landed on a dead tree branch in front of him — its eyes glowing violet.
Lucien froze.
Only one person used raven messengers in the dark kingdom.
The Forgotten Prince.
His grip tightened on his blade as the raven opened its beak… and Aira's voice echoed out.
"I'm not just the light. I'm also the curse…"
His entire body went cold. "No."
He looked up just in time to see the masked man standing on the cliff above, holding Aira's unconscious body in his arms like a twisted prize.
"You're too late, Devil Heir," the masked man taunted. "You think you can protect her, but you don't even know what she truly is."
Lucien's voice roared. "Let. Her. Go!"
The masked man laughed darkly. "You'll get your chance… but first, you must make a choice."
He held up a glowing dagger — the same kind used in blood-binding spells. Behind him, a portal of shadows opened, swirling like a storm.
"One step closer," he warned, "and I bury this blade in her heart. Or… you can come through the portal and hear the truth."
Lucien's hands trembled with rage and fear.
Aira stirred slightly in the masked man's grip. "Lu…cien…"
Then her eyes rolled back.
And the portal swallowed them both.
Gone.
Lucien fell to his knees — the echo of her name ripped from his chest.
"AIRA!"
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Blood dripped steadily from Lucien's blade, falling onto the ash-covered soil. The air was heavy with the scent of burning wood, scorched flesh, and something darker—something ancient.
He could barely feel his arms, but adrenaline surged through him like fire in his veins. His enemies were many, but none of them were as dangerous as the one who had taken Aira.
The masked man.
Lucien replayed the scene again and again in his mind: Aira's trembling lips murmuring his name, the silver dagger glowing with ancient runes, the portal of shadows that had swallowed her whole. And above all—the masked figure who had looked him dead in the eyes and whispered, "You don't even know what she truly is."
He stumbled forward, half-collapsing against a tree, clutching his ribs. The forest was quiet now, too quiet. No birds. No wind. Just silence. He could still feel the magical trace of the portal lingering in the air.
Lucien tore off his cloak, tying it around his injured arm as a makeshift bandage. His eyes scanned the charred earth where the portal had stood, still pulsing faintly with shadow magic.
"Show me," he growled.
As if responding to his plea, the ground trembled. A circle of black fire rose slowly from the soil, revealing a half-burned sigil beneath the dirt. Ancient. Forbidden. He recognized it instantly. Blood magic.
Only one bloodline still had access to such power.
"The Bloodborn," he whispered.
But they were extinct.
Weren't they?
Suddenly, the earth cracked beneath him. Lucien jumped back, drawing his sword again. Out of the chasm rose a glowing orb. As it hovered before him, it shimmered and released a wave of memories—but not his own.
Aira's memories.
---
A little girl in white running through a burning palace. A woman screaming, "Hide her! She's the last hope!" Blood. Fire. Darkness. And then, the same masked man standing over her with a blade, but... he wasn't trying to hurt her. He was protecting her.
---
Lucien dropped to his knees.
"What are you?" he whispered to the wind. "Aira... what are you not telling me?"
The orb dissipated, and the sigil dimmed. But Lucien had already made up his mind.
If the Bloodborn weren't extinct... if Aira was tied to them... Then the game they were playing was far bigger than a throne or a war.
It was about legacy. About power older than time.
---
Meanwhile, deep within the obsidian halls of the Blood Sanctum, Aira stirred awake. Her head pounded. Her wrists were shackled with silver enchanted cuffs, draining her strength.
The masked man stood before her, but he had removed his mask.
Aira gasped.
"No... it can't be you."
He smiled faintly. "Hello, sister."
Her mouth went dry. The face. The eyes. It was impossible.
"You died in the fire. I saw you!"
"They let you believe I died. Just like they let you forget who you are."
He stepped closer, touching her cheek. "They erased your memories, Aira. To protect you. But the truth is... you're not just royalty. You're the heir of the Bloodborn. The darkness runs in your veins."
Aira shook her head violently. "No. I'm nothing like you."
His gaze hardened. "You will be."
He turned away, motioning to a servant. "Begin the awakening ritual."
"No!" Aira screamed, struggling against the chains. Her magic sparked, but fizzled out. The cuffs were too strong.
Candles lit up around her. Blood sigils drawn on the floor pulsed with ancient power. Aira's heart raced.
Somewhere, far away, Lucien felt it.
Her fear. Her magic. Her scream.
He didn't wait. He plunged into the shadow portal, blade drawn, heart ready to burn the world.
As he vanished into the darkness, the air echoed with a single phrase:
"She won't be yours when you find her.
Aira lay unconscious in Lucien's arms as the palace healers rushed into the shattered hall. Flames still flickered on the marble floors, casting shadows of destruction against the once-pristine walls. Her chest rose and fell slowly, but her face was pale, almost ghostly. The strike from the cloaked assassin had grazed her shoulder—but the real wound seemed deeper, almost like something was draining her from within.
Lucien tightened his grip, eyes locked on the dying flames. His aura was raging. How could he have let this happen? How had someone gotten that close to her?
"We have to get her to the sanctuary," the healer said, examining Aira. "This is not just an injury. It's a curse."
Lucien stood without hesitation, cradling her body as if she weighed nothing. He strode through the corridor, his mind swirling with fury and questions. He didn't even notice the blood trailing down his own arm.
In the sanctuary, a room sealed with ancient wards, Aira's body lay on a crystal bed. Symbols around the room shimmered softly, reacting to the dormant magic within her. Damian, pale and wide-eyed, leaned against the wall.
"That assassin..." Damian said, breaking the silence, "He wasn't human. Did you see his eyes?"
Lucien didn't reply. He was staring at the amulet around Aira's neck, now dull and cracked.
"What if he was right?" Damian continued. "What if Aira has a twin? A brother?"
Lucien finally spoke. "Aira never mentioned any siblings. Her memories are sealed... But if she has a brother, and he's been raised in darkness..."
Damian's expression darkened. "He might be the real heir of the underworld."
The revelation was heavy. The prophecy had always spoken of two heirs. One born in light. One in shadow. For years, everyone believed Lucien was the only devil heir.
But what if that was wrong?
---
Aira's consciousness floated through a haze of dreams. Voices echoed in her ears, blurred and haunting.
"You were chosen, Aira..."
"He will come for the throne... and for you..."
"The blood of fire runs in both of you. Only one can survive."
She gasped and shot up in bed.
Lucien was immediately by her side. "Easy. You're safe now."
Her eyes fluttered open, but something had changed. Her pupils had a faint glow, and the sigil on her palm pulsed like a heartbeat.
"He was my brother..." she whispered. "I saw it. We were born together. But something tore us apart."
Lucien nodded slowly. "We need to find him. Before he finds you again."
---
Later that night, while the palace slept under heavy guard, Aira stood by her window, watching the stars. She was no longer afraid. A fire had ignited in her.
From behind her, Damian stepped into the room quietly.
"There's something you should see," he said, holding out a scroll.
Aira opened it and read the ancient words aloud:
"When twin flames rise, the world shall bend. Light and shadow shall clash. The throne belongs to the one who survives the storm."
A chill ran down her spine.
"There's more," Damian said. He handed her a second scroll, this one stained with dried blood.
"It was found on the assassin. It's a hit list."
Aira scanned the names.
Her name was first.
Lucien's was second.
The third name made her blood freeze.
"Damian."
They looked at each other.
Before they could speak further, a deafening explosion rocked the palace.
Glass shattered.
A guard burst into the room. "Your Highness! The eastern wing—it's under attack!"
Lucien appeared at the doorway, his blade already drawn. "Stay close!"
But Aira stepped forward, eyes blazing. "No. This time, I'm fighting."
---
They rushed toward the chaos. Fire had engulfed part of the corridor, and dark figures in crimson robes fought the palace guards. The enemy wielded corrupted magic—black fire, ice daggers, and illusions that screamed.
Aira conjured a shield as a blast came their way.
Lucien sliced through two cloaked intruders.
Damian threw knives with perfect precision.
Suddenly, time slowed.
Aira felt him.
The same dark aura from before.
She turned—and there he was.
Her brother.
Eyes like hers.
Face like hers.
But twisted with rage.
"You survived," he said, stepping from the flames. "Good. Now let's see how long you last."
The ground trembled. Magic pulsed.
Lucien charged.
Aira raised her hand.
The world cracked.
And everything went white