meghannari

Lysandra, the last heir to the kingdom of Eldoria, has spent her life dreading her 21st birthday the day the royal curse takes hold. When the sun sets on her coming-of-age night, she begins to transform into a shadow beast, a fate long believed to be punishment from an ancient, forgotten god. The only way to break the curse is to complete an impossible trial: defeat the very god who cursed her bloodline.
Forced to flee her own kingdom before she loses herself to the darkness, Lysandra crosses paths with a masked warrior, a mysterious rogue with a curse of his own. Cursed to turn into a rat, he hides his identity and past, yet seems to know more about the royal family’s curse than he lets on. Bound by their shared fate, they embark on a dangerous journey through enchanted forests, lost cities, and a forgotten temple where the god slumbers.
But as Lysandra’s transformation worsens, she uncovers a devastating truth: the curse was never meant for her. Centuries ago, the first heir of her bloodline escaped their fate by transferring the curse onto their sibling, dooming every generation that followed. Now, Lysandra faces an impossible choice to undo the past and place the burden where it truly belongs, or embrace her destiny as the final heir and become the monster the world fears.
With time running out and the forgotten god stirring, she must decide: will she fight fate, or rewrite it forever?

shadowbound

The image of the man in the golden palace his piercing eyes, his regal stance, the weight of his voice was burned into her mind. The first cursed heir. The one who started everything.

She looked up at the masked prince, her pulse still uneven. "Have you ever seen him?"

"The first heir." Lysandra's voice was barely a whisper. "The one who—" she swallowed, "—started the curse."

The prince didn't speak for a moment. Then, slowly, he sat back on his heels.

"…There are no records of him," he admitted. "No name. No face. Just fragments of history and whispers of what he did."

Lysandra's heart pounded. "But you know about him."

A muscle in his jaw tightened. "Everyone in my family knows. Every cursed heir carries the weight of his actions."

Lysandra studied him carefully. "Then why did I see him?"

But he didn't deny it, either.

The wind stirred through the trees, rustling the canopy above them. The Wilds felt different now. Darker. As if something had changed.

Lysandra exhaled sharply. "Whatever I saw, it wasn't just a dream. He spoke to me. He knew me."

Lysandra hesitated. She hadn't told him everything yet—the strange figure in the abyss, the golden thread, the way the man's golden eyes had mirrored her own.

But something about the prince's posture—the way his shoulders were rigid, his fingers curled slightly at his sides—made her choose her words carefully.

"He said I wasn't ready to know the truth."

Then the prince let out a slow, measured breath.

Lysandra's stomach twisted. "You know something."

The prince turned away. "It doesn't matter."

Her frustration flared. "It does if it's about the curse."

The prince stood abruptly. "You should rest."

Lysandra narrowed her eyes. "Stop avoiding it."

His gaze flickered—just for a second. "You think you want the truth," he murmured. "But some truths aren't meant to be known."

Lysandra clenched her fists. "I decide what I can handle."

The prince's lips pressed into a thin line. Then, without another word, he turned and began walking deeper into the Wilds.

Lysandra stared after him, her blood humming with frustration.

She had seen something important—something no cursed heir was supposed to see. And if the prince wasn't going to tell her the truth, she'd find it herself.

Even if it meant uncovering secrets that had been buried for centuries.

Even if it meant facing the first heir again.

It was a story that had been rewritten, twisted, and hidden away.

And Lysandra was going to break it.

Whispers of the first heir