raamimanda

The stars did not warn me.
Not when she smiled like dusk,
or when her silence felt like prophecy.

She was a secret wrapped in silk,
a prayer the gods forgot to answer.
And I-
I was just a name waiting to be rewritten.

They spoke of duty,
of oaths, and blood, and kings.
But I listened only to the way she breathed
when no one else dared to.

Now the wind howls through hollow halls,
and the world is ash-touched and quiet.
Still, I would not unlove her.
Even now.
Even here.
Even at the end.

In Her Name,I Burned

The Crown Prince had learned one thing from his father: the strongest threats rarely roar—they whisper.

And lately, the whispers carried the Duke's name.

He didn't ask for attention. He didn't command with arrogance or hunger. He simply existed with such quiet strength that even the storm of politics bowed its head when he entered a room.

What began as admiration was evolving into something else—deference. Respect. Allegiance.

The Prince sat in the shadows of the war chamber, listening to a noble speak of land reforms introduced by the Duke. "A wise policy," they said. "Fair. Just."

They said it like he wasn't even in the room.

And beside Alric stood Saren—his sister. Serene. Composed. Untouchable.

Once, she had been fire. She questioned everything, challenged everyone. Now, she simply watched… like a queen-in-waiting.

The Prince's knuckles tightened around the goblet.

That night, behind closed doors, he summoned Darian.

"She writes to someone," the Prince said quietly, sliding a folded parchment across the table. "Someone outside this palace."

Darian scanned it. "You're sure it's her?"

"She's careful. Too careful." The Prince leaned back, his gaze sharp. "But I know my sister's handwriting. She's always written with a hook in her letters. Like a weapon hidden in silk."

Darian hesitated. "Do you think she's trying to… replace you?"

The Crown Prince didn't answer for a long time.

Then, softly: "I think she never forgave me for being born first."

Elsewhere in the palace, Saren stood at the window of their chambers, watching her husband sleep.

She had chosen him because he was useful.

But it was becoming harder to lie to herself. She had come to crave his presence, to wait for his footsteps down the hall, to ache when he left. The more power he gained, the more her plan should have worked—and yet, she found herself trapped within the very warmth she had once meant to use.

She was falling into the cage she had built for him.

She turned back to her writing desk, staring at the unfinished letter meant for her old ally.

A list of troop positions. A suggestion of when the Crown Prince would travel.

Then, slowly, she held it over the flame of the candle until the edges curled and darkened. The ink bled like guilt.

Not because she had changed sides.

she wasn't sure which side she was truly on.

I know, I know… the tension is palpable, isn't it? The whispers of power, of loyalty, and the cracks beginning to show in the perfect façade of Saren's grand design. This chapter took me to some dark places as I wrote it. We're walking that fine line where affection is entangled with manipulation, and Saren's own heart, once so sure, is now in turmoil.

Alric is growing, expanding in ways he never anticipated. But the Crown Prince—he's feeling the ground shift beneath him. I hope you felt the weight of his quiet observation, the growing realization that his sister might just be the one playing a game he's been blind to.

Saren's internal conflict is my favorite thing to explore right now—because her power, her control, it's all beginning to slip. She's in a cage of her own making. But isn't that the tragedy of it all? You build your kingdom, but sometimes… you get trapped in it.

Tell me what you think, what stirs you, what makes you ache. I promise, this ride only gets wilder from here.

Chapter 26 - Whispers Beneath the Crown