Lysandra's vision swam as she struggled to her feet. The world still felt unsteady, as if she hadn't fully returned from the god's realm.
The prince's hands remained firm on her shoulders, his golden eyes sharp with worry. "What did you see?"
Lysandra opened her mouth—then stopped.
Stay, and become like me. Or take my place, and I will go free.
The god's words still echoed in her skull, a whisper she couldn't shake.
She couldn't tell the prince. If he knew, he would fight it. He would try to keep her from making the choice. And if she was being honest with herself…
She wasn't sure if the choice had already been made for her.
Lysandra swallowed hard and forced a neutral expression. "It doesn't matter. We need to keep moving."
The prince frowned, clearly unconvinced, but didn't press. Instead, he released her and turned toward the ruins. "We should leave before the magic attracts something worse."
Lysandra barely heard him.
She could still feel the god's presence. He was watching her—waiting.
Waiting for her to break.
The Journey Continues
They traveled in silence for hours, moving through the crumbling remains of what had once been a kingdom. Lysandra couldn't stop herself from stealing glances at the prince.
He carried himself like a man waiting for the inevitable.
Like someone who knew his time was running out.
And now that she knew the truth… she understood why.
She had spent all this time thinking she was searching for a way to break the curse.
But the truth was far worse.
There was no breaking it.
Only transferring it.
Lysandra's mark throbbed as if to confirm her thoughts.
The god had chosen her.
She had been a fool to think she could outrun fate.
The prince suddenly slowed, scanning their surroundings. Lysandra followed his gaze, her instincts prickling. The trees here were twisted, their branches curling toward the sky like skeletal hands. The air felt wrong, thick with something unseen.
"We're being watched," the prince muttered.
Lysandra tensed, her fingers itching toward her dagger. "By what?"
Before he could answer, the ground shook.
The first arrow came without warning.
It struck the ground inches from Lysandra's foot. She barely had time to react before the second arrow was already flying—aimed directly at the prince.
He dodged just in time, the arrow slicing past his cheek. Blood beaded on his skin, but he was already moving, drawing his sword in a smooth motion.
Lysandra spun, scanning the trees. There.
Shadows moved between the twisted trunks. Figures cloaked in dark fabric, their faces obscured by masks.
Hunters.
But not just any hunters.
They were after the prince.
Her stomach twisted.
They knew what he was. They knew what he carried inside him.
And they weren't going to let him live.
The Prince's Fate
The first hunter lunged, and the prince met them head-on. His blade clashed against theirs in a spray of sparks. Another hunter flanked him from behind, but before they could strike, Lysandra moved on instinct.
She threw her dagger.
It embedded itself in the hunter's arm, sending them stumbling. The prince took the opening, pivoting and striking them down.
But there were more coming.
Too many.
Lysandra's breath came fast. If they kept fighting, they'd be overwhelmed.
And then—
One of the hunters spoke.
"You cannot run forever, cursed prince."
Their voice was smooth, almost amused. The leader of the group stepped forward, their hood lowering slightly to reveal sharp, golden eyes—too similar to the prince's own.
Lysandra froze.
The resemblance was uncanny.
The prince, however, didn't react. His expression remained unreadable, but his grip on his sword tightened.
Lysandra suddenly understood.
This wasn't just some group of bounty hunters.
They were his own kin.
His family had sent them.
And they weren't here to save him.
They were here to kill him before the curse could fully take hold.