Shadows in the Dark:

The candlelight flickered as Elara traced her fingers over the ancient text before her. The book—old, bound in dark leather, and nearly falling apart at the seams—felt like it held more weight than just its pages. The ink had faded with time, but she could still make out the words.

"The Forgotten Line… cursed by the stars, erased by the blade."

Her chest tightened.

Ryan had said he thought he had killed the last of her kind.

But if that were true, then who was she?

The air in the library felt heavy, thick with something unseen. The corridors outside were silent, but Elara knew better than to trust the stillness of the palace. Every step she had taken here had been watched—every breath measured.

She turned another page, her pulse quickening. The text spoke of an ancient bloodline, one hunted to extinction because of the power they possessed.

"The Forgotten do not die by mortal hands… only by their own."

A shiver ran down her spine. What did that mean?

"Elara."

She gasped, slamming the book shut as she spun around.

Ryan stood at the doorway, arms crossed, his storm-gray eyes unreadable. He looked as if he had been expecting this.

"You just can't resist, can you?" he murmured, stepping into the dimly lit room. The soft glow of the candles reflected against the dark fabric of his clothes, making him seem like a shadow that had come to life.

Elara clenched her fists. "I want answers."

Ryan exhaled, as if he had anticipated those words. He walked past her, his fingers grazing the spine of the book she had been reading. A slow smirk curled on his lips.

"This book should not exist," he said. "And yet… here it is."

"Just like me?" Elara shot back.

Ryan's smirk faded. "Yes. Just like you."

Silence stretched between them.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Ryan pulled a chair and sat across from her, his gaze locked onto hers.

"You want to know why I spared you?" he asked, voice low.

Elara swallowed but nodded.

Ryan leaned in slightly, his fingers tapping against the wooden table.

"Because I have been waiting for you."

The words sent a chill down her spine.

Waiting for her? No. That wasn't possible.

"You're lying," she whispered.

Ryan tilted his head, studying her. "Am I?"

Elara remained frozen in place, Ryan's words repeating in her mind like a haunting echo.

"I thought I killed the last of your kind."

It wasn't just the statement itself that sent shivers down her spine—it was the way he said it. With certainty. Like he had no doubt that the people he had hunted were now gone.

All except her.

Her fingers trembled as she curled them into fists.

Who exactly was she?

She had spent years knowing she was different. The nightmares, the visions, the strange pulse of energy that occasionally sparked under her skin—none of it was normal. But she had never once thought of herself as something… inhuman.

A deep, unsettling fear coiled in her stomach.

If Ryan had truly killed others like her, what did that mean for her future?

Would he try to kill her too?

No.

If he had wanted her dead, she wouldn't still be breathing.

Then why was she still here?

Elara exhaled shakily and glanced at her wrist. The silver glow had dimmed, but the mark was still faintly visible. The warmth beneath her skin had lessened, but it was still there—lurking, waiting.

A part of her wanted to demand answers. To chase after Ryan and force him to explain everything.

But another part of her hesitated.

Because deep down, she knew—

The answers she was looking for… might change everything.

---

The night was long.

Elara barely slept, her mind racing with possibilities, with truths she wasn't sure she wanted to face.

By the time morning arrived, she had made a decision.

She couldn't stay in the dark any longer.

If Ryan knew something about her—about what she was—she needed to know.

Even if it terrified her.

---

The palace was eerily silent as she stepped into the corridor. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting golden streaks across the polished marble floor. Servants passed by, their gazes flickering toward her but never lingering.

Elara ignored them.

Her only focus was him.

She found Ryan in a large study, seated behind an ornate desk, flipping through pages of an ancient-looking book. He didn't look up when she entered.

"I expected you sooner," he said casually, his fingers skimming over the pages.

Elara stepped forward. "You owe me answers."

Ryan finally met her gaze, and for a moment, she swore she saw the faintest flicker of amusement in his stormy eyes.

"Owe you?" he repeated, closing the book with a soft thud. "I don't recall making any promises."

Elara clenched her jaw. "You knew what I was before I did. You said you thought you killed the last of my kind. If that's true, then what am I?"

Ryan was silent for a long moment.

Then, he stood.

With slow, deliberate steps, he moved toward her, his presence commanding, suffocating.

"You want the truth?" he asked, his voice low.

Elara swallowed. "Yes."

Ryan stopped in front of her, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"Then listen carefully," he murmured.

He lifted a hand, brushing his fingers lightly against her wrist where the mark had appeared the night before. A sharp pulse of energy passed between them, and for a split second, a vision flashed in her mind.

A battlefield, drenched in blood. The sky burning red. Screams of people—of creatures—echoing through the air.

Her breath hitched.

The vision vanished as quickly as it came.

Ryan's gaze was still locked onto hers, studying her reaction.

"You," he said softly, "are something that should not exist."

Elara's chest tightened.

"What do you mean?"

Ryan tilted his head. "I mean exactly what I said. Your kind was erased from this world centuries ago. You are the first I have seen in a long, long time."

A chill ran down her spine.

Her kind.

So it was true—she wasn't human.

Elara inhaled shakily. "What am I?"

Ryan was silent for a long moment.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said—

"You are Forgotten."

The words sent a jolt through her body.

Forgotten.

The name felt distant yet familiar, like an echo from a past she couldn't remember.

Elara's fingers twitched. "What does that mean?"

Ryan smirked. "It means your life just became a lot more complicated."

She wanted to argue, to demand a real explanation, but before she could speak, a loud knock echoed through the study.

Ryan's expression shifted in an instant.

Cold. Guarded.

The mask was back.

"Come in," he called.

The door opened, and a man dressed in royal armor stepped inside. "Your Highness, the council requests your presence."

Ryan exhaled, as if mildly annoyed. "Tell them I'll be there soon."

The man nodded and left.

Elara blinked, suddenly processing what had just happened.

"Wait," she said. "Your Highness?"

Ryan turned back to her, his expression unreadable. "Ah," he murmured. "I suppose I never did introduce myself properly."

His lips curved slightly as he leaned in closer, his voice a whisper against her ear.

"My full title is Prince Ryan of the Aetharian Empire."

Elara's breath caught.

Prince.

She had spent the last few days arguing, questioning, and standing up to a prince.

Ryan straightened, his usual smirk returning. "Surprised?"

Elara clenched her fists. "You could have told me."

"And miss the look on your face right now?" He chuckled. "No chance."

Elara scowled. "You're impossible."

Ryan merely shrugged, turning toward the door. "Get some rest, Elara. You'll need it."

"For what?" she asked warily.

Ryan smirked. "For the real game that's about to begin."

Then, without another word, he left.

Elara stared after him, her mind spinning.

The truth was out.

She wasn't human. Ryan was a prince. And something far bigger than she could understand was already in motion.

And for the first time in her life…

She wasn't sure if she was ready.

---