The Crown Prince''s Arrival
The day had come.
The soldiers were buzzing with excitement, their voices filled with admiration.
"The Crown Prince is coming! Let’s go see him!"
The vice commander ordered everyone to assemble. The sound of galloping hooves filled the air as the Crown Prince, Novel Al Pestelio, arrived at the northern border.
The Duke welcomed him, and together, they walked toward the camp.
Soldiers lined up in formation, standing proudly, cheering for their future king.
Lucian stood at the back, his hands clenched at his sides.
Then—Novel’s gaze swept over the soldiers.
And then—he saw him.
Lucian felt it. The weight of that gaze.
His breath hitched. His stomach twisted.
But before Novel could say anything, Lucian turned sharply and stepped behind a tree.
Out of sight.
Out of reach.
The Crown Prince continued forward, his expression unreadable.
That night, after dinner, Novel and the Duke sat inside the command tent. A dim lantern flickered between them, casting long shadows on the walls.
The Duke leaned back, folding his arms. "Why are you here, Your Highness?"
Novel’s gaze remained steady. "You already know, Duke."
The Duke’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. "You’re young. You still believe in idealistic dreams. You don’t understand war."
Novel didn’t flinch. "And do you want this war to continue forever?"
The Duke exhaled, his expression hardening. "It is not that simple. Do you know how many men have bled for this border? How many have died?"
Novel’s eyes darkened. "That is why it must end."
Silence.
For a moment, the only sound was the wind howling outside.
The Duke watched him carefully.
Then, he chuckled—a bitter, almost mocking laugh.
"You sound just like your mother."
Novel’s expression flickered.
But he didn’t deny it.
"You know for the next generation… for the future, we have to stop it," Novel murmured.
The Duke’s smirk faded.
His expression, for the first time, looked... tired.
He ran a hand over his face, sighing. "We tried before. And it failed. Every time, it failed."
"But we never tried this way," Novel said softly.
The Duke looked at him. And for the first time, he saw not a prince… but a future king.
Still, he said nothing.
Novel stood.
"Rest well, Duke. I will see you in the morning."
As he left, the Duke remained seated, staring into the flickering light.
His mind was restless.
Not because of the war.
Not because of the prince.
But because for the first time in years…
He felt uneasy.
As if something was coming.
Something far worse than war.
The next day, the Crown Prince gathered with the Duke and his officers, presenting his strategy.
But—
Every single idea was rejected.
The discussions stretched for hours, filled with debates, counterarguments, and tense silences. The Duke was firm. The northern border had been at war for years, and no words alone would change that.
Meanwhile—
Lucian sat alone, lost in thought.
He couldn’t shake the dream.
The blurred memory haunted him.
A figure standing in the middle of a battlefield—his entire body drenched in blood. Both his eyes—dark, burning red.
But the face…
The face was missing.
Lucian ran a hand through his hair, frustration tightening his chest. Who was it? Why did it feel so… familiar?
The feeling left a hollow ache in his heart.
James and Lucy were passing by when they spotted Lucian sitting alone, his posture tense, his eyes distant.
“Lucian?” Lucy called softly.
He didn’t react.
She frowned. “Lucian?” She tried again, this time louder.
Lucian flinched, snapping out of his daze. He looked up, startled, as if waking from a nightmare.
Lucy and James exchanged a glance before sitting beside him.
“You okay?” James asked.
Lucian hesitated. His mind was tangled with too many thoughts, but deep down, he knew—he needed help.
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He exhaled. “James, Lucy… can you help me?”
They nodded immediately.
Lucian hesitated before speaking.
“If… if there were memories you had forgotten—completely wiped from your mind—but they suddenly started to return, just in pieces… what would you do?”
Silence.
James and Lucy looked at each other, unsure how to respond.
Lucy, after a long pause, said, “I… I don’t know.”
She hugged her knees. “Memories are strange, Lucian. Some are treasures. Some are wounds. And sometimes, our mind buries the most painful ones to protect us. If something buried is coming back…”
She looked at him with soft, worried eyes. “…it might be something you weren’t ready to face before.”
Lucian’s throat tightened.
Lucy gave a small smile. “But don’t worry. Whatever it is, you’re not alone.”
James clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah. We’re here.”
Lucian felt warmth creep into his chest.
He had never had people like this before. People who stood by him.
He took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
They sat there in comfortable silence, letting the cool wind brush against them.
Later that night, Lucian and James walked together after dinner.
Lucian glanced at James. Something was still bothering him.
“James… do you remember the night we were attacked?”
James tensed.
Lucian noticed immediately.
James hesitated, his grip tightening around his wrist as if he was holding something back.
Then, without a word, he grabbed Lucian’s arm and pulled him into a nearby tent.
Lucian frowned. “James, what are you—”
James shushed him, glancing around before lowering his voice to a whisper.
“I don’t know what happened that night. But I do know one thing—the commander warned everyone never to talk about it.”
Lucian’s breath hitched.
“Never?”
James nodded. “Not a word. Not a single mention. It was an order.”
Lucian’s mind reeled. What were they hiding?
His voice was barely above a whisper. “Do you remember anything? Where do they find me?”
James hesitated again.
Then—he exhaled.
“…I overheard some of the officers talking. They said they found you deep inside the forest. Near a cliff.”
Lucian frowned. “A cliff?”
James nodded. “It’s in the middle of the woods. They said from there, you can see the moon perfectly.”
A shiver crawled down Lucian’s spine.
A cliff… deep in the forest… on a full moon night.
His heart pounded. He had to go there.
Two days later—
It was a full moon.
Lucian waited until the camp fell silent. Until the torches dimmed and the sound of soldiers laughing around fires faded into the quiet hum of night.
Then, he moved.
Silent. Quick. Careful.
He took a horse and slipped into the trees.
As he rode deeper into the forest, the night felt… heavier.
Like something was waiting.
Something new he was coming.
And it was watching.
The Duke was restless.
Something had been bothering him ever since that night—the night Lucian was found.
And then, just as he was considering his thoughts, he saw it.
A shadow slipped out of the camp.
Lucian.
The Duke’s eyes narrowed.
Where is he going?
Without hesitation, he grabbed his horse and followed.
The deeper they rode into the woods, the more unnatural the air felt.
Then—the Duke spotted hoofprints in the dirt.
Lucian had dismounted.
Not far ahead, his horse was tied to a tree. And beside it—bootprints leading into the trees.
The Duke’s grip on the reins tightened.
He dismounted, tying his horse as well.
Then—he followed the tracks.
Something wasn’t right.
The air was too still.
The deeper he walked, the more it felt like he was walking into something that wasn’t meant to be disturbed.
His pulse quickened.
Lucian…
Where are you going?
And—
What are you trying to remember?
Lucian reached the cliff, his breath uneven, and his pulse erratic. The moon hung above him like an unblinking eye, casting its pale light over the forest. The wind howled through the trees, a whispering chorus of voices he couldn’t quite understand.
The air felt wrong. Heavy. Suffocating.
He scanned the area, searching for… something. But all he found was silence.
Lucian exhaled, frustration and disappointment settling deep into his chest. Had he come all this way for nothing?
Then—
A presence.
His heart stopped.
Something was watching him.
A slow, creeping dread curled inside his gut. His muscles tensed, his senses screamed, but his body refused to move.
Then, from the darkness—
Two red eyes.
Lucian’s breathing became shallow. Cold fear spread through his veins like poison. The way those eyes stared—unblinking, predatory—made every instinct in his body shriek.
The wind died. The world froze.
Lucian tried to take a step back, but his legs didn’t respond. It was as if chains had wrapped around him, pulling him deeper into the abyss.
Then—it moved.
A blur of shadow lunged toward him.
Lucian''s heart slammed against his ribs. His body finally obeyed—he turned to run. But his foot snagged on a root, sending him crashing to the ground.
His vision blurred.
And when he looked up—
Nothing.
The glowing red eyes were gone.
Lucian sat there, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Maybe… maybe he had imagined it?
He turned—
A face. Right beside his.
Lucian’s scream never left his throat.
His face stared back at him.
But it wasn’t him.
The reflection of himself grinned—a twisted, bloodstained grin. His eyes were pitch black, with only thin rings of burning red. His face, his entire body—drenched in blood.
Lucian tried to move. He couldn’t.
The world around him melted.
Memories—visions—things he had long buried—came alive.
He saw himself, lying broken and bleeding on the battlefield. He saw the enemy soldiers advancing, their blades gleaming in the moonlight.
He remembered falling.
He did not remember getting back up.
But now he saw.
His body—his hands—
Slaughter.
Blood sprayed. Screams filled the air. Pleas for mercy—ignored. His sword was carved through flesh like it was made of paper. He saw himself laughing as he tore through them, his blade drinking in their terror.
No. No, that’s not me!
The vision shifted.
He was standing atop a mountain of corpses.
His face is unrecognizable. His eyes burned with abyssal hunger. His lips curled into a monstrous smile.
Lucian clutched his head, nails digging into his scalp. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real.
But then—the shadow of himself stepped closer.
And whispered—
“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
Lucian’s entire body convulsed. His stomach twisted violently. He dropped to his knees, retching onto the ground.
His mind burned. His skin itched, like something was crawling underneath it.
“No… no, I didn’t… I—”
“You killed them. You ripped them apart. And you smiled.”
Lucian’s breaths turned ragged. He gripped his arms, scratching violently as if trying to tear off his skin.
The voice laughed.
The vision shifted again.
This time, he saw something new. A woman crying—a man standing beside her. They looked at a child. A child with familiar blue eyes, sleeping soundly.
The man leaned down, brushing the child’s face. “I’m sorry… but this is the only way to protect you.”
A knock at the door.
A young maid entered.
Lucian’s breath caught in his throat. Chloe?
The images blurred, overlapping, crashing into him at once. Voices. Screams. Pain. The sound of metal clashing. The whispers in his head get louder.
“You are not real.”
“You are a mistake.”
“You are a monster.”
Lucian clamped his hands over his ears, but the voices only grew.
The Duke had followed Lucian’s tracks deep into the forest. The moment he arrived, he felt it.
A suffocating presence.
Lucian stood beneath the moonlight, completely still.
The Duke’s gut twisted.
Something wasn’t right.
He took a cautious step forward.
A twig snapped under his boot.
Lucian didn’t move.
But something else did.
The Duke’s breath hitched.
A shadow stood beside Lucian.
It wasn’t human.
Then—it turned.
The Duke froze.
It smiled.
A smile so sinister, so wrong, that for the first time in years—the Duke felt true fear.
Then—it vanished.
Lucian collapsed.
The Duke stood frozen for several moments, his pulse hammering. Then, he rushed forward. But before he could reach him—
Lucian’s eyes snapped open.
The Duke stopped.
Those weren’t Lucian’s eyes.
They weren’t human.
Then, as if nothing had happened, Lucian blinked—his normal blue eyes returning.
He gasped, looked around frantically, and ran.
The Duke did not move.
Because deep in his mind, a terrifying realization took root.
What exactly is the royal family trying to hide?
And more importantly—
Why is the Crown Prince here?