Chapter 91: Controlled Use of Forbidden Magic
Kaelian's breath came in steady, measured bursts as the dim light of the chamber flickered from the countless candles lining the ancient walls. The air was thick with a mixture of dust, incense, and something darker — a latent energy humming beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. Tonight, Kaelian was no longer just the illegitimate prince, the court's overlooked pawn. Tonight, he would wield the forbidden.
He glanced at the small tome lying open before him, its pages filled with symbols and incantations painstakingly copied from a grimoire lost to time. The forbidden magic—the kind whispered about in the shadows of the royal academy—was more dangerous than anything he had faced. Yet, here he was, ready to cross that threshold. Survival demanded it.
**
Ever since the assassination attempt during the recent court gathering, Kaelian had known his position was becoming precarious. The Queen's spies whispered behind closed doors, and Prince Théor's cold smirks promised more than just rivalry—they promised a fatal end. But Kaelian had learned long ago that raw power alone never secured victory; the mind was the sharpest blade.
He had spent weeks quietly mastering this dark magic, controlling it like a tempest barely contained in a fragile jar. Any slip could burn him alive or worse, expose him and give his enemies the final justification for his elimination. But if mastered, this power could tilt the balance—turn a fragile game of survival into a decisive conquest.
**
The first incantation echoed softly from his lips, the language of old bloodlines long forbidden by the Crown. The room pulsed with a faint glow as Kaelian's fingers traced the arcane signs in the air. He summoned energy from the depths of the realm's magic veins, feeling its corrosive potential brushing against his soul like a viper's tongue.
His heart raced. Magic this potent had ruined even the strongest nobles. But Kaelian was no ordinary noble—he was a reincarnated genius, a strategist reborn with memories of wars, betrayals, and cold calculations. His mind held the key to balancing the risk with the reward.
**
Suddenly, a sharp noise sliced the tense silence—the creak of the chamber door. Kaelian's eyes snapped open, eyes glowing faintly with residual power. Standing in the shadowed doorway was Lyssa, the low-born healer and his only true friend. Her face was pale but determined.
"You should not be here," he whispered, quickly extinguishing the magic's visible trace.
"I couldn't stay away," she said quietly. "There's news… The Queen's agents have moved. They're coming for you at dawn."
Kaelian's lips curled into a cold smile. "Then we have less time than I hoped."
**
Lyssa's presence was a double-edged sword. She was loyal, yes, but rumors of her being a spy still gnawed at the edges of Kaelian's trust. Yet, she had saved his life once already—twice, if he was honest. And tonight, he needed all the allies he could find, no matter how fragile.
Together, they poured over the maps and notes Kaelian had gathered—secret passages, guard rotations, and the shifting alliances among the nobles. Every piece mattered in this deadly game.
"We need a way to use this magic," Kaelian said, gesturing to the dark symbols. "Not just for defense but as a message: I am no longer weak."
Lyssa's eyes darkened. "But the risk—if they find out you've crossed this line—"
"Death," he finished. "Yes. But death is waiting anyway."
**
As the hours slipped by, Kaelian's plan sharpened. The forbidden magic would be his secret weapon during the upcoming Council meeting, where the heirs would openly contest the throne after the king's illness worsened. He would appear as the fragile bastard once more, but beneath that facade, a storm was gathering.
His mind raced through possible scenarios—who would betray whom, which faction could be swayed with a timely revelation, and how to ensure his survival long enough to rewrite the rules of the game.
He was no longer a victim of birthright or betrayal. He was becoming the master of shadows, the genius of the court.
**
Dawn crept over the horizon as Kaelian extinguished the last candle. His hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the overwhelming surge of power he had barely contained. A single misstep tomorrow could unravel everything. Yet, this was the moment he had waited for.
The air in the palace corridors was already thick with whispers, footsteps, and plotting. Somewhere deep in the labyrinthine halls, the Queen's spies awaited their orders. Prince Théor's cold eyes would be watching every move.
But Kaelian was ready. The forbidden magic coursed in his veins now, a dark pulse matched by the fire in his heart.
He would survive.
More than that—he would dominate.
**
As he stepped into the rising sun's light, his mind was already several moves ahead. The court was a game of power, deceit, and hidden blades. And Kaelian, once a mere pawn, was preparing to become the player.
The final words of the incantation still whispered faintly at the edge of his consciousness, a promise and a warning.
Magic forbidden was power uncontested.
And Kaelian was about to unleash it.
**
From the shadows, a figure watched silently. Fingers curled around a dagger inscribed with runes of binding—the sign that the forbidden magic was not as secret as Kaelian believed. The game had only just begun.
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