The chains that bind

Lysandra took a slow, steady breath.

The first heir's golden eyes burned into hers, waiting. Expecting.

She knew what he wanted.

A new heir. A new prisoner. A new sacrifice.

Lysandra's hands curled into fists. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to take the deal. To save herself. To walk away from this curse and let someone else bear the burden.

But the weight of generations pressed against her shoulders.

If she said yes, she would be no different from him.

"No," she whispered.

The first heir's expression flickered. For a fraction of a second, it wasn't cold amusement or ancient knowing—it was shock.

Then his features smoothed into something unreadable. "No?"

Lysandra swallowed hard. "I won't do it."

The shadows around them stirred, whispering, twisting. The air thickened, heavy with something dangerous.

The first heir tilted his head, his golden gaze sharp. "You would rather suffer?"

Lysandra's jaw clenched. "I would rather end it."

A beat of silence.

Then—

Laughter.

It wasn't warm or cruel—it was something deep, something almost relieved. The shadows rippled with it, the ground beneath her feet shuddering.

The first heir stepped forward, his presence vast, impossibly ancient. "Foolish girl," he murmured. "You think you are the first to try?"

Lysandra didn't flinch. "Maybe. But I'll be the first to succeed."

The laughter faded.

The first heir studied her, his expression unreadable. Then, for the first time, his voice dropped to something almost… human.

"Then you must be prepared to lose everything."

The words settled in her bones, cold and final.

Lysandra didn't hesitate. "I already have."

Something shifted in his expression—something she couldn't name.

Then he exhaled, and the entire realm trembled.

The shadows rushed toward her.

Lysandra braced herself, expecting pain.

Instead—

She was falling.

The golden-black sky above shattered into a thousand pieces. The ground cracked beneath her feet, vanishing into a void that swallowed her whole.

And then—

The world snapped back into place.

Lysandra gasped, air rushing into her lungs. The temple was gone. The first heir was gone. She was on her knees in the damp, moss-covered forest, her hands pressing into the cool earth.

The prince was beside her, his silver eyes wide with something close to panic.

"You were gone," he said, voice sharp. "I couldn't—" He stopped himself, exhaling hard. "What happened?"

Lysandra stared at the ground, her heart hammering. "I met him."

The prince tensed.

Lysandra lifted her head, meeting his gaze. "And I refused the deal."

Silence.

The prince's face was unreadable, but his fingers twitched at his side a tell.

Then—

A whisper on the wind.

Soft, almost imperceptible. But Lysandra felt it sink into her bones, into the very core of her being.

The curse had changed.

The first heir had let her go—but not without consequence.

Lysandra clenched her jaw. Whatever was coming next…

She would be ready.