A voice slithered through the darkness.
Cold. Familiar. Inhuman.
“You see now, don’t you?”
Lucian whipped around.
Nothing but shadows.
The whisper curled around his throat, suffocating.
"They never wanted you."
Lucian clenched his teeth.
"You were born to be cast aside."
No.
"Let me take it from here."
The Seizure begin
James grabbed Lucian’s arms, but he kept thrashing.
“HELP! SOMEONE HELP!”
More soldiers rushed inside.
Five men.
It took five men to restrain one boy.
“WHAT’S HAPPENING TO HIM?!” someone shouted.
Lucian’s body jerked violently.
His breath hitched.
His lips parted in a silent scream.
His eyes—
His eyes were turning red.
A deep, demonic red.
The soldiers staggered back.
“What the hell…?”
One of them made the sign of the gods.
“HOLD HIM DOWN!”
The soldiers pressed his limbs to the ground, but Lucian’s body fought like something else was inside him.
His screams grew distorted.
More inhuman.
Like something was being ripped out of him.
The tent shook.
The air became heavy.
Then—
The Duke burst inside.
His sharp gaze swept the scene.
Lucian’s glowing red eyes.
The unnatural struggle.
The suffocating presence.
For the first time in years…
The Duke felt fear.
“Bring me his medicine. NOW.”
Duke injected the medicine.
Lucian collapsed.
His breathing slowed.
The tent fell into silence.
The soldiers stared at the Duke, drenched in sweat.
Lucian’s body was motionless.
The Duke exhaled sharply.
“It was a seizure.”
His voice was calm, but his eyes were troubled.
Someone swallowed hard.
"What the hell did he go through?"
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
No one had an answer.
The only sound in the tent was Lucian’s ragged breathing.
And the quiet realization.
That this boy had been through hell.
And somehow…
He was still standing.
Lucian awoke the next morning to aching muscles and a throbbing skull.
James, Joe, Kane, Lucy, and Del sat beside him, their faces full of worry.
James was the first to speak. “Are you alright?”
Lucian hesitated.
“Yeah… I think so. But my head… it hurts.”
Lucy sighed in relief. “You should rest today. After experiencing something like that, you need time to recover.”
Lucian froze.
“Seizure?”
Joe nodded. “The Duke said it happened because of trauma. Some kind of memory or experience that forced your body to shut down.”
Lucian lowered his gaze.
He had so many memories that could break him.
Which one had done it?
Later that night, as Lucian lay in his tent, staring at the ceiling, he heard it.
A voice.
"Hey... did you forget what happened yesterday?"
Lucian bolted upright.
“Who’s there?!”
His eyes darted around the tent. No one.
Then, again—
"I’m inside you. If you want to meet me… close your eyes."
A cold dread settled in his chest.
Lucian hesitated. Then, slowly, he shut his eyes.
And the world vanished.
Lucian felt like he was falling.
The darkness swallowed him whole.
Then—he landed.
His feet hit solid ground.
He looked around. It was pitch black. A void.
He took a step forward.
Then another.
Then—he saw something.
A child.
Sitting alone.
Lucian’s breath caught in his throat.
The child looked familiar.
He took a step closer—
Then, the child vanished.
Suddenly—
A battlefield.
Lucian was standing in an arena.
Two figures clashed swords before him.
Then—
A throne room.
A boy stood before the king, trembling.
Lucian saw himself.
Then—
His father moved forward.
Lucian tried to speak.
Tried to warn himself.
Tried to scream.
But no sound came out.
The memories kept shifting. Faster. Faster.
His head pounded. The pain was unbearable.
Lucian clawed at his skull.
"STOP IT! STOP IT!"
The real world snapped back into place.
Lucian gasped, bolting upright.
His heart raced, his skin drenched in sweat.
That voice…
That thing inside him…
It wasn’t a dream.
It was real.
And it was waiting.
Lucian gripped his chest, trying to calm his breathing.
He was not alone in his mind.
Something else was there.
And it was watching.
Waiting for its moment to take over.
Lucian shivered.
Because deep down, he knew—
One day, it would.
As the days passed and the Crown Prince’s visit loomed closer, Lucian found himself tangled deeper in the web of memories. The whispers in the shadows were growing louder.
That night, he made another attempt to confront the voice.
At first—nothing. Silence.
But the moment he let his thoughts drift to his past—to the suffocating chains of his childhood—a searing pain tore through his skull.
A whisper slithered into his mind.
"Hello, my prince… are you finally ready to meet me?"
Lucian’s vision darkened, and he fell.
But this time, it was different.
The air was thick. Suffocating. A heavy fog coiled around his limbs like unseen hands, dragging him deeper into the abyss. The sky above stretched endlessly—too clear, too empty. A void.
Then, the memories came. Flooding. Burning. Drowning him.
A voice weeping. A child sobbing.
And then—blackness.
Suddenly, twisting, clawing hands erupted from the darkness, gripping his arms, his legs, and his throat. Cold fingers curled around his body, pulling him down into the abyss.
"NO!" Lucian struggled, but the hands were endless. The harder he fought, the tighter they gripped.
"LET GO OF ME!"
The suffocating grasp tightened until he couldn’t breathe. Until he couldn’t move.
Then—everything stopped. The hands vanished, and the world shifted.
He was back in his bedroom.
A small figure lay curled on the floor—himself.
A ten-year-old Lucian. Beaten. Bruised. Sobbing into the cold silence of the night. His tiny fingers trembled as he clutched his arms, trying to hold himself together.
"I only wanted to be a knight… why do they hate me so much?"
Lucian staggered backwards. His breath caught in his throat.
He had forgotten this.
He had buried it so deep that even time couldn’t reach it.
But now… now it was here.
And then, the voice returned.
"Stop crying."
The small Lucian gasped, his teary eyes darting around the room.
"Who... who said that?"
"I’m inside you."
"Where?"
"Close your eyes, and you will see."
The young Lucian obeyed, his tiny hands pressing against his swollen eyelids.
And then—the darkness shifted.
A figure stood before him.
A shadow.
No face. No shape. Just a whisper of something ancient. Something powerful.
"Who are you?"
"I am you… and you are me."
"Why are you here?"
"Because I have been waiting for you."
James had been passing by Lucian’s tent when he heard something strange.
A muffled noise. A whimper.
Frowning, he stepped inside.
Lucian was asleep, but his expression was twisted in pain. His fingers twitched, his body tense like he was trapped in a nightmare.
James hesitated. "Lucian?"
Lucian didn’t stir. His breathing was erratic.
Something was wrong.
James placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently.
"Lucian. Wake up."
Lucian’s eyes snapped open. He gasped as if pulled from the depths of drowning water.
His gaze darted wildly—confused, unfocused—until it landed on James.
James saw it immediately.
The fear.
Lucian blinked, his breathing still uneven.
James frowned. "Are you alright?"
Lucian hesitated, his mind still foggy, the whispers still lingering in his head. But he forced a small nod. "Yeah… just a dream."
James didn’t believe him.
But he didn’t push.
Lucian looked away, his chest tight. Why… why did that memory return?
Why now?