Masked Stranger.

"I'm not sure, something feels off," the fairy responded, looking puzzled.

Owen tightened his grip on his hand and stood tall. "Father, I apologize, but I cannot agree to marry without proper preparation, and more importantly, I do not wish to marry," Owen objected, his tone filled with anger.

"Why?" his father inquired.

"It's straightforward, father. I simply do not want to," Owen stated firmly, without hesitation.

The king thought to himself, 'Where does this boy find the courage to defy me?' feeling displeased.

"I will give you three days to reconsider," his father declared as he rose from his throne.

"I have nothing to think about, father, as no one will catch my attention," Owen smiled.

The king glared at his son. "How bold?" he questioned.

"I insist," the king persisted politely.

Owen sighed to himself, "It won't change anything," he said, causing the king to frown before leaving the throne room.

"What a mess. Marriage, there's something this old man isn't telling us. It's as if he is selling us out. Anyway, I better get myself ready to ride a horse," he thought to himself.

After leaving the throne room, Owen noticed the servant who had escorted him was still waiting. "Prepare a horse for me," he instructed before starting to walk towards his room.

"But Your Highness... you're not familiar with horseback riding. Your body is still recovering," the servant murmured, avoiding eye contact.

'If only they knew I'm not Prince Owen,' he thought to himself, chuckling softly.

Owen chuckled softly. "Just get it ready. Let me know when it's done," he replied, continuing on his way to his Chamber while humming a tune.

The servant observed Owen with surprise. It was the first time he had seen Prince Owen act in such a manner. It was amusing, considering the servant still remembered how weak the prince's body had been and how his wounds from the beatings had taken time to heal.

Owen, on the other hand, was indifferent. All he desired was to escape the place and find solace in a peaceful environment away from the insincere smiles of people, especially his so-called sister.

Upon reaching his room, he stood before the mirror. At that moment, Nyx entered with a richly embroidered velvet doublet, its intricate gold thread patterns shimmering in the soft light.

"Drop them all, and I'll get myself ready," he ordered, and she nodded.

Without wasting any time, he put on the embroidered velvet doublet over a crisp white linen shirt with billowy sleeves. Delicate lace trim peeked out from beneath the doublet's edges.

His dark brown breeches, made of the finest silk, were smooth to the touch and adorned with subtle silver stripes running down the sides. The matching brown leather boots, polished to a high shine, reached up to his knees, their soft suppleness a testament to the palace's skilled leatherworkers.

"These clothes are exquisite, designed to conceal all the wounds this body endures," Owen remarked with frustration.

He now wore a sleek white leather belt fastened at his waist, adorned with a subtle silver buckle featuring the royal crest. Owen's white hair was neatly groomed, and his face was smooth from a recent shave, highlighting his defined jawline.

After a final check in the mirror, Owen nodded in approval. He exuded the aura of a prince, yet his outfit was suitable for a casual palace excursion.

At that moment, the servant's voice interrupted, "Your Highness, everything is prepared."

"Hmm," Owen responded, biting his lips.

Exiting his chamber, Owen smiled and asked, "What's your name?"

"I'm Eryn, My Lord," the servant replied, smiling proudly that the prince had inquired.

Eryn had always taken good care of the former host discreetly, as this servant was loyal to his late mother.

"It wouldn't hurt to gather my people," Owen thought to himself.

"Okay, Eryn, lead the way to the stable," Owen instructed Eryn, who nodded immediately. Owen followed Eryn out of the chamber door, down the winding corridors, and through the castle's rear entrance.

They stepped out into the bright sunlight, greeted by the sound of horses whinnying and hooves shuffling on the stone courtyard.

Owen's gaze swept the courtyard, landing on a magnificent black stallion with a colorful tail, already saddled and prepared. A smile crept across his face, excitement bubbling within him.

"What's his name?" He inquired, approaching the black stallion.

"His name is Galahad, my Lord," Eryn replied. "I suppose you've forgotten about him. He was a gift from your mother before you were born."

Owen was taken aback by the revelation. "So, the former host mother did leave a gift for her kids, even though it wasn't mentioned in the book," he mused, feeling surprised and a bit scared.

"Best thing you can do is go with the flow," Indigo said, appearing with a smile seemingly out of thin air.

"If she were still alive, things might be different. My guess is that the more we alter the storyline, the more things will shift," Owen added, smiling.

Ignoring the fairy, Owen concentrated on the horse in front of him. "I'll ride now."

"Of course, Your Highness," Eryn replied, bowing slightly.

Owen frowned momentarily but quickly smiled at Eryn. "I'll be riding alone. I'll return on my own. No one needs to follow me," he said firmly.

"But Your Highness."

"I'll be back," Owen insisted, with Eryn's help, he mounted Galahad, feeling the familiar surge of excitement as he settled into the saddle.

"Don't look for me, I'll be back," he said to Eryn, smiling, and nodded in response to Prince Owen's words.

He immediately set off towards the castle gates, ready to explore the rolling hills and forests beyond.

As Owen rode through the castle gates and out into the open countryside, the tension in his shoulders began to ease. Though unfamiliar with the area, he continued riding, confident in his ability to find his way back to the palace.

The rhythmic thud of Galahad's hooves on the earth and the fresh air filled his lungs, offering a temporary reprieve from the heavy atmosphere of the castle.

"Whooo-hooo!"

"Whooo-hooo!! Yes, I feel the wind in my hair, the thunder beneath me!" Owen cried out happily as he urged his horse to move faster, feeling the wind.

The landscape soon transitioned from open fields to the edges of a thick, ancient forest, one that was rarely visited.

Despite his desire to venture into it, he felt a strange pull toward it, as if it called to him. Yes, the pull was strong.

Without hesitation, he led Galahad into the dark woods, the horse's pace dropping as they arrived. The trees towered over them, their gnarled branches forming a deep canopy that shut out most of the sunshine. The woodland was unusually silent, with only the rustle of leaves breaking the serenity.

Owen continued on, his senses acute and alert. Luckily, Eryn had left him a dagger. Something about this environment felt unique, almost alive. It seemed as if the forest itself was watching his every movement.

Suddenly, a heavy fog descended, its tendrils winding among the trees and along the walkway.

Galahad snorted nervously, but Owen urged him forward, curiosity outweighing, deep down he felt some connections, and his heart kept throbbing harder than before the pain was something he couldn't Ignore.

But the more he got closer the more the pain eased.

As the fog grew denser, Owen noticed a dark figure standing in the distance, partially obscured by the mist. The figure was tall and cloaked, its face hidden behind an ornate mask that seemed to blend with the shadows.

All Owen could make out was its eyes glowed crimson red. And his eyes were boring to him.

Owen's hand immediately reached for the hilt of his blade, but he didn't draw it. Instead, he dismounted, keeping his gaze fixed on the mysterious figure.

"Who goes there?" Owen cried out, his voice steady despite the growing discomfort.

The person stood motionless for a minute before gradually turning to meet his gaze. His intricately made mask, covered with dark feathers and shifting symbols, obscured his features.

Behind the mask, the stranger's crimson eyes shined as brightly as a flaming volcano, appearing to penetrate Owen's entire soul.

"I am a traveler, much like yourself," the stranger said, his voice silky and powerful, emitting a compelling power that piqued Owen's interest while making him suspicious.

"There are many things I know, Prince Owen. But the real question is, what is it that you seek here? Or perhaps, what are you running from? You must be aware that this is the border between your kingdom and the demon Kingdom."

Owen's eyes narrowed, and his body tensed. His instincts urged him to leave, but he stood his ground.

"That's none of your concern," Owen replied, trying to remain composed. "If you intend to harm me, know that I am not afraid."

The stranger chuckled softly. "Harm? No, I have no intention of harming you. In fact, I believe our encounter here is no mere coincidence. It may be fate bringing our paths together. It's quite fortunate that I have the opportunity to meet the renowned Prince."

The stranger smirked behind his mask as he spoke.

Owen stayed silent, wondering if the person was crazy and unsure of how to respond. The stranger moved closer, his presence commanding and almost overwhelming, his long black hair shining. This left Owen speechless.

"There is power in these woods, Prince Owen," the masked figure continued, "Power that few can harness, but that can change the course of destiny.

I sense that you, too, are seeking something more—something beyond the walls of your castle," he said, closing the distance between them.

A chill ran down Owen's spine, but he stood his ground. "And what do you know of destiny?" he asked, trying to meet the gaze of the tall stranger in front of him.

The stranger's eyes gleamed as he spoke, "More than you can imagine, young prince. But beware, freedom comes with a price, and the path you choose will not only determine your fate but also the fate of many."

Owen remained silent, pondering the stranger's words. They were confusing, and he struggled to grasp their meaning. "What is it that you seek from me?" he finally asked.

The stranger paused before responding enigmatically, "Perhaps it's not about what I want, but about what you're willing to sacrifice. Remember, Prince Owen, the decisions you make in this forest will have far-reaching consequences."

*Growwwl*

Prince Owen's stomach rumbled, interrupting the stranger. At that moment, Owen wished the ground would swallow him whole.

"Are you hungry? Why would a bride like you be hungry?" the masked stranger inquired.