The Weight of Betrayal
Silence filled the Vault of Echoes.
Prince Kaelen remained on his knees, his trembling hands clutching at his arms as dark veins pulsed beneath his skin. The mark of the Void had revealed itself in him, and there was no denying its meaning.
The last heir of Veldrith's royal bloodline was cursed.
And now, everyone in the chamber had to decide what that meant.
Ashen's grip on his sword tightened, his stance rigid. His instincts screamed at him to strike, to eliminate the threat before it was too late. He had fought against the corruption of the Void before. He had seen what it could do.
But he had also seen Kaelen fight against that same darkness, standing for peace when the other rulers sought war.
Could he really be beyond saving?
Kaelen exhaled shakily, his golden eyes flickering between desperation and horror as he looked at the mark spreading across his arm. "No. No, this isn't right. I—I don't serve the Void. I never have!"
King Darius stepped forward, his armored form casting a heavy shadow across the stone floor. His expression was unreadable, but the sharpness in his gaze was unmistakable. "Whether you serve it or not may not matter, boy." His hand hovered over the war axe at his belt. "The curse runs in your blood. For all we know, it's been waiting inside you, hiding until now."
Queen Lirien crossed her arms, her dark red lips curling into an unreadable smirk. "How poetic. The so-called 'hope for unity' has been nothing more than a puppet of the Void all along."
Kaelen's head snapped toward her. "That's not true!" His voice was raw, filled with a desperate conviction. "I would never let myself be controlled by the Void!"
Lady Syra's voice was quiet but sharp. "Then prove it."
The room turned to her.
She stepped forward, her silver eyes glinting in the dim torchlight. "If you are truly still yourself, if the Void's influence hasn't twisted you into its pawn, then show us." Her fingers curled around the hilt of her dagger. "Because if you can't control it… then we all know what must be done."
The implication was clear.
Seren took a step toward Kaelen, her expression softer but no less serious. "You said you don't serve the Void," she said. "Then fight it, Kaelen. Before it fights us."
Kaelen swallowed hard, his breath unsteady. He looked down at his hands, watching as the black veins pulsed against his skin.
Then, with a deep inhale, he clenched his fists—and pushed back.
A Battle Within
A sudden pulse of magic filled the Vault. The mark on Kaelen's arm flared brighter, writhing like a living thing trying to break free. He grit his teeth, veins bulging as he fought against it with sheer force of will.
The Void's whispers echoed in the chamber. "You are ours…"
"No," Kaelen growled through clenched teeth. "I am my own."
Dark tendrils lashed out from his body, slamming against the floor, cracking the stone beneath him. A violent shockwave of magic erupted outward, forcing the others to brace themselves.
Seren's heart pounded as she sensed the conflicting energies within him—Kaelen was fighting himself, struggling against something ancient and insidious.
But would it be enough?
The air in the Vault darkened, and the temperature plunged.
And then… something else awoke.
The Phantom King's Warning
The monolith at the heart of the Vault shuddered. Its silver runes pulsed brighter, reacting to the turmoil within Kaelen. The sigils twisted, shifting into new patterns as an ancient force stirred.
Then, without warning—a figure emerged from the monolith.
A translucent specter, tall and regal, clad in flowing robes of shifting darkness and light. His features were sharp, his expression unreadable. His eyes glowed with eerie wisdom, as though he had seen the rise and fall of countless ages.
The rulers took an instinctive step back. Even Ashen and Seren felt their breath catch.
The ghostly figure's voice was deep and resonant, carrying an ancient authority that commanded attention.
"Blood of Veldrith." His gaze fixed upon Kaelen. "You carry the mark of our past sins. But you stand upon the precipice of choice."
Kaelen, still trembling, looked up. "Who… are you?"
The specter's gaze did not waver. "I was once the last true King of Veldrith, before the kingdom fell into ruin."
Whispers filled the chamber. The Phantom King. A legend spoken of only in forgotten texts.
The spirit continued, his gaze heavy. "We, the rulers of old, struck a bargain with forces beyond our control. We sought to wield the Void's power, believing we could tame it. We were wrong. It is a force that can never be tamed." His eyes darkened. "And now, it seeks to reclaim what was once promised."
Kaelen swallowed. "Then tell me… how do I stop it?"
The Phantom King studied him for a long moment.
Then, he spoke.
"To sever the chain of fate, one must burn away the blood's burden."
The words carried weight, but their meaning remained uncertain.
Lady Syra frowned. "That's cryptic."
Queen Lirien narrowed her eyes. "And rather ominous."
Kaelen, however, understood.
His fingers clenched against his arm, where the mark of the Void pulsed. "I have to purge the curse."
Seren stepped closer, worry in her eyes. "But how? If you force it out too fast, it could tear you apart."
The Phantom King's gaze remained unwavering. "That is the risk. The blood's burden cannot be cast aside without sacrifice."
Kaelen exhaled shakily. He knew what had to be done.
And he wasn't afraid.
"I need to do this," he said, standing on shaky legs. "I won't let the Void take me. I won't let it take this world."
Ashen studied him for a long moment, then finally nodded. "Then we'll help you."
A Dangerous Gamble
The Vault of Echoes had given them their answer.
Kaelen would have to sever the curse at its root.
But how much would it cost him?
And even if he succeeded—what would he become afterward?
As the Phantom King faded, his final words echoed through the chamber.
"Be warned, heirs of this broken kingdom. The Void does not relinquish its claim so easily."
And deep beneath the Vault, something stirred.
Something that had waited for this very moment.