Chapter 3: Rumors of the Devil’s Son

The days leading up to her first meeting with the mysterious prince passed in a blur, a whirlwind of preparations and rumors. Hazel could barely keep track of the events unfolding around her. Her mind, however, was consumed by the thought of the prince—this son of the Devil, rumored to possess power beyond imagination, whose very presence was said to command fear.

The palace buzzed with excitement, but Hazel felt only a growing sense of dread. The courtiers whispered of the prince's dark heritage, and servants hushed their voices whenever his name was spoken. His existence had become a shadow that loomed over the entire kingdom, and with it, the prophecy that foretold either salvation or doom. No one could agree on what the future would hold, but one thing was certain: the son of the Devil was coming.

Hazel spent her days in her chambers, unable to escape the growing tension that hung in the air. Every servant that entered her room spoke in hushed tones, as though afraid that saying too much would invoke the wrath of the very prince they feared. But the whispers she overheard only added to her confusion and fear. Some spoke of his beauty, others of his terrifying aura, and still more of his violent temper—traits that made him seem less like a prince and more like a creature of legend.

"Have you heard, Your Highness?" Selene asked one evening as she brushed Hazel's hair in front of the vanity. The soft clink of the hairpins filled the otherwise silent room. "The prince, they say, is no ordinary man. They say he has powers that no one can understand—powers that make even the bravest men tremble."

Hazel's eyes met Selene's in the mirror, her voice barely a whisper. "Do you believe the rumors?"

Selene hesitated, her hands stilling in Hazel's hair for a moment. "I've heard things, yes," she replied softly. "There are stories, legends that speak of his birth, his bloodline. Some say the Devil himself fathered him, and that he carries within him the mark of the damned. Others say he's a prince like any other, but with an aura of danger that attracts darkness wherever he goes."

Hazel's heart skipped a beat. She had heard these same stories. The tales told in hushed whispers after dark—of a prince who could call upon fire and shadows, whose presence could turn the bravest warriors to stone. Of a boy born from a cursed union, destined to bring either destruction or greatness. It was said that the Devil himself had appeared to the King, and in exchange for allowing the queen to bear his child, the kingdom had been granted immeasurable power. A deal forged in blood and dark magic.

She shuddered. "Do you believe he's truly the Devil's son?"

"I don't know, Your Highness," Selene replied with a quiet sigh. "But there's something about him that feels... wrong. They say his eyes are as black as night, and his gaze can pierce through your very soul. There's something unnatural about him, something that makes even the strongest men recoil."

Hazel's mind raced with the stories she had heard. Could such a prince really exist? Could someone born of darkness and power be capable of love, or was he simply a weapon, a tool to be wielded by those who sought to control him?

"Do you think I will be safe with him?" Hazel asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Selene met her gaze through the mirror, her face softening with concern. "I cannot say, Your Highness. You must prepare yourself for anything. The prince's power is said to be great, and his temper... fierce. You must keep your wits about you when you meet him."

Hazel nodded, though doubt gnawed at her. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to expect from this prince. Was he the key to her freedom, as her father claimed, or was he simply another cage she would be locked in forever?

---

The day of the meeting arrived too quickly. The sun had barely risen when Hazel was summoned to the grand hall, where the prince was to be introduced to the royal court. Her heart pounded as she dressed, the heavy gown feeling more like a weight than the symbol of her status. She could barely focus on the intricate patterns in the fabric, her thoughts too consumed with what lay ahead.

As she walked through the corridors of the palace, the servants and courtiers parted in reverence, their faces masks of curiosity and awe. Some whispered behind her back, but Hazel heard only a faint hum of their voices. The rumors had spread through the palace like wildfire, and now, the moment of reckoning had arrived.

The grand hall was filled with courtiers, nobles, and advisors, all gathered to witness the arrival of the prince. The air was thick with anticipation, every eye trained on the entrance as Hazel made her way down the marble steps. The grand double doors swung open, and the whispers died as all eyes fell on him.

He entered like a shadow—a figure draped in dark, regal attire that seemed to absorb the very light around him. His presence was overwhelming, as if the darkness itself had come to life. Hazel's breath caught in her throat as she looked at him, her eyes drawn to the dangerous beauty of his face.

He was tall, with broad shoulders and a strong, commanding presence. His eyes—those eyes—were like pools of ink, dark and endless, holding a depth that seemed to peer into her very soul. His features were sharp and angular, his jaw set in an expression of quiet authority, and yet there was a hardness to him that was unmistakable. He carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who knew his own power—and the terror it inspired.

Hazel's heart raced, her pulse quickening as he moved through the crowd with an effortless grace. It was clear from the way the courtiers parted for him that he was not a man to be crossed. The air around him felt charged, as though a storm were brewing just beneath the surface.

When he reached the front of the hall, his gaze shifted to Hazel. For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. His eyes locked onto hers, and in that instant, Hazel felt as though she were drowning. His gaze was dark, unreadable, but there was something else there—something primal, something dangerous.

"Princess Hazel," he said, his voice deep and smooth, like velvet wrapped around steel. "It is an honor to meet you."

His words sent a shiver down her spine. The prince, the son of the Devil, had spoken to her. And in his gaze, Hazel saw something that both terrified and intrigued her: the promise of power, the promise of a life far more complicated than she had ever imagined.

But what was the cost of this power? What price would she pay to be bound to this man, to the son of darkness himself?

Hazel didn't know. But she had the sinking feeling that she was about to find out.