chapter 1- Kaelion

The rain lashed against the stone walls of Aevoria's castle, each drop a hammer strike against the silence of the night. From my perch atop the eastern tower, the city stretched beneath me, its streets dark and glistening like veins of obsidian. A storm was coming—not the kind that came with thunder and rain. This one was worse. I could feel it, coiling and snapping in the air like a viper about to strike.

I adjusted my grip on the hilt of my blade, its cold steel biting into my palm. There was a comfort in that—a reminder that I was ready, that I was capable. That no matter what was waiting for me, it wouldn't take me without a fight.

A flash of lightning illuminated the city, and for a heartbeat, I caught a glimpse of a figure moving across the rooftops. Swift. Silent. Too precise to be anything but trouble.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. My instincts had been screaming all day, and now I knew why.

I turned and made my way down the narrow spiral staircase, my boots echoing against the stone. The castle had been my home for as long as I could remember, but tonight, it felt more like a cage. The corridors were too quiet, the shadows too deep. I hated it. Always had.

When I reached the main hall, the advisor was already waiting for me. Cyran Vael—a man who wore secrets like a second skin and had the patience of a snake waiting to strike. His sharp features and cold gray eyes gave nothing away, but I could see the tension in the set of his shoulders.

"You saw them," he said, his voice low.

"Damn right I did," I replied. "And if they're here, they're either stupid or desperate."

Cyran's lips curved into something that might've been a smirk, but it was gone too quickly to be sure. "Perhaps both. The question is, what are they after?"

"Does it matter?" I shot back. "They won't get it."

He tilted his head, studying me like I was one of his chess pieces. It pissed me off, but I didn't let it show. Cyran thrived on control, and I wasn't about to give him any more than he already had.

"Your confidence is admirable, Kaelion," he said. "But arrogance can be a blade that cuts both ways. We don't yet know who we're dealing with."

"Then I'll find out."

Without waiting for his permission—not that I needed it—I strode past him and out into the courtyard. The rain was colder here, biting against my skin like tiny shards of ice. I ignored it, my focus on the rooftops where I'd seen the figure. Whoever they were, they wouldn't get far. Not in my city.

Aevoria was a place of shadows and secrets, and I'd learned to navigate both. The people here feared me, whispered my name like it was a curse. Kaelion Valmont, the prince who didn't act like one. The bastard son of a queen who kept me close but never let me forget what I wasn't.

And maybe they were right to fear me. Because when it came down to it, I'd do whatever it took to protect this place. Even if it meant becoming the monster they thought I was.

I moved quickly, my boots silent against the cobblestones as I followed the trail. It was faint, but I knew these streets better than anyone. Every corner, every alley, every hidden passage. They were as much a part of me as the blood in my veins.

It didn't take long to find them. A hooded figure crouched in the shadows, their back to me as they worked to pry open a locked chest. The rain masked my approach, and they didn't even flinch until my blade was at their throat.

"Drop it," I growled.

They froze, their hands hovering above the lock. For a moment, I thought they'd comply. Then they moved. Fast. Too fast.

I barely had time to block the dagger aimed at my chest. The clash of steel echoed in the alley as we fought, their movements quick and precise. But I wasn't just fast. I was relentless.

With a well-timed strike, I sent their weapon clattering to the ground. I grabbed them by the collar and slammed them against the wall, my blade pressed against their throat once more.

"Who sent you?" I demanded.

They didn't answer. Instead, they laughed. A low, bitter sound that sent a chill down my spine.

"You have no idea what's coming, do you?" they said, their voice muffled by the hood.

"Try me."

They didn't. Instead, they twisted in my grip, and I caught a glimpse of their face. A woman. Younger than I expected, with sharp features and eyes that burned like embers. She smirked, and then there was a flash of light. Blinding, searing. Magic.

When I opened my eyes, she was gone. Only the rain remained, washing away the blood from my knuckles and the lingering scent of ozone.

I sheathed my blade and leaned against the wall, my mind racing. Whoever she was, she'd made one thing clear.

This wasn't just a storm. It was a goddamn hurricane.