A deafening silence stretched through the cavern.
Lysandra could hear her own breath—too shallow, too fast—as the prisoner's words settled like frost over her skin.
The first heir. The erased one.
Jael's grip tightened on his sword, his knuckles turning white. "You're lying."
The prisoner's silver eyes gleamed with something old and knowing. "Am I?"
Lysandra swallowed. She didn't know what to believe.
She had heard the stories—everyone had. The curse of the royal family, the punishment that turned each heir into a beast, bound them to their tragic fate. But no history book, no whispered legend had ever spoken of another heir. One before Jael's ancestors.
And yet…
Something about this place, about the way the magic hummed through the air, told her the prisoner wasn't lying.
Jael took a step forward. "If you were the first, then why—" His voice faltered, his expression darkening. "Why were you forgotten?"
The prisoner chuckled, a sound like brittle parchment tearing. "Because I was meant to be."
The Curse's Beginning
Lysandra watched as the prisoner raised a scarred, shackled hand. The chains binding them to the wall shivered, glowing faintly as they recognized the power in their veins.
"Your ancestors," the prisoner said, turning toward Jael, "sealed away the truth to protect themselves. They would rather erase history than admit their sin."
Jael flinched. "What sin?"
The prisoner smiled—a slow, knowing smile that made Lysandra's stomach turn.
"They betrayed me."
The cavern darkened, as if the air itself was pulling inward, listening.
"I was the eldest son. The rightful heir," the prisoner continued, voice like stone grinding against stone. "But I was also the first to inherit the curse. The first to feel the beast's hunger clawing at my soul. My family feared me. Hated me. They could not break the curse—so instead, they buried me."
Lysandra's heart pounded. They locked him away? Their own blood?
Jael shook his head, his eyes burning. "That's not possible. My family has ruled for centuries—"
"Yes." The prisoner's smile didn't waver. "Because I was erased. I was the first to bear the curse, the first to fight it. And when I refused to become their monster, when I sought to control it, they called me an abomination."
His silver eyes burned in the dim light.
"They locked me away, cast my name into oblivion, and told the world the curse began with someone else. That it was fate." He let out a soft, bitter laugh. "And so it continued, through each generation, a story rewritten again and again."
Jael stood frozen.
Lysandra could see the war in his eyes—the anger, the disbelief, the quiet, creeping horror that maybe—just maybe—this was true.
That his entire life had been built on a lie.
The Chains of the Past
Lysandra cleared her throat, forcing herself to speak. "If that's true… why are you still alive?"
The prisoner's gaze snapped to hers.
Jael stiffened.
Lysandra met the silver eyes without flinching. "You should be dead. If your family erased you, why leave you here? Why not—" She hesitated, then said the word aloud. "Kill you?"
The prisoner tilted his head. "They tried."
Lysandra's breath hitched.
Jael's fists clenched.
"I should have died centuries ago." The prisoner gestured to the chains, to the runes glowing softly on the walls. "But something… interfered."
Lysandra felt a chill slide down her spine. "Something?"
The prisoner exhaled slowly. "An ancient power. One older than your gods."
Jael's entire body went rigid. "The Forgotten God."
The prisoner nodded. "He did not free me. But he did bind me." His silver eyes darkened. "And now, after all this time… you are here."
Jael's voice was hoarse. "What do you want from me?"
The prisoner smiled.
"To finish what your ancestors were too cowardly to do."
Silence.
Lysandra's pulse raced.
"What does that mean?" she demanded.
The prisoner's eyes gleamed. "It means the choice falls to you, little prince."
His shackles rattled, his voice turning into a whisper that echoed through the chamber:
"Kill me… or set me free."