Smoke stung his eyes as the crowd roared for his exile.
Kaelion stood barefoot on the sun-scorched marble of the Solar Spire, shirtless, bruised, and bleeding from a split lip. The royal banners above him snapped in the wind—crimson and gold, proud and gleaming, as if mocking him with every flutter.
He shifted slightly, the shackles around his wrists biting into raw skin. Made of spiritsteel, the cuffs were designed to suppress any bonded energy. They sparked now and then, reacting to the faint pulse beneath his skin. Umbrix was restless.
Above the city, the sky was cloudless. Below, far below, the Spiritwild waited.
"By command of the Solar Throne," the High Seer declared, voice booming through the courtyard, "Kaelion Vael is hereby stripped of title, blood-right, and royal sanctity. The bond he forged is unholy. The path he chose—unforgivable."
Kaelion tilted his head toward the High Seer. "Can I get a copy of that speech? It really sings."
"Perhaps next time," Umbrix murmured in his mind, "don't bond with a spirit older than time and allegedly responsible for a minor apocalypse."
"You're not helping."
"I'm not trying to."
He forced a smirk even as whispers hissed from the noble balconies high above. He could see the glint of spirit-crystal jewelry, embroidered sunburst sigils, the smug faces of those who had never been anything less than perfect.
They hadn't seen what he had. Hadn't felt what he'd felt.
Not like he had, at the ceremony.
It was supposed to be the proudest moment of his life.
The Spiritbonding Ceremony—a rite of passage for all royal blood. His siblings had received their spirits with fireworks and adoration. Darius, the eldest, bonded with a regal lion spirit wreathed in golden flame. Lysandra, ever the favorite, claimed Solari—the Solar Griffon herself. She practically glowed for days after.
Kaelion had tried not to be jealous. He didn't even want something flashy. Just… something.
Instead, when he stepped into the Spirit Circle, the sky had darkened.
Not figuratively. Literally.
The sun dimmed. The wind turned cold. And the runes etched into the marble beneath him cracked, unable to contain the bond forming.
He remembered the moment too clearly. The panic of the priests. The gasps. The pulse in his chest, like a second heartbeat—one not his own.
And then... Umbrix.
A voice inside his head. A whisper through his bones. A shadow that wrapped itself around his soul and said, simply:
"Finally."
The spirit that emerged from his shadow was not a noble griffon. Not a phoenix. Not any spirit the Archive had on record.
Umbrix had no shape—just eyes. Eyes and a voice that spoke of things Kaelion didn't understand and didn't want to.
He'd tried to make a joke. "Well, I always liked snakes."
No one laughed.
Now, as he stood before the court that once called him prince, Kaelion shifted on the stone platform, chains rattling.
"I could melt these bindings," Umbrix offered. "Say the word."
"Not yet."
"You're enjoying this humiliation far too much."
"I'm building dramatic tension. It's important."
He caught sight of his sister on the dais above—Lysandra, tall and golden, wearing the crown she'd always coveted. She stared down at him with the look one gives a rabid animal.
"You had everything," she said. "You could have chosen any noble spirit. You could have followed tradition. You chose that thing."
Kaelion raised a brow. "Technically, it chose me."
"And I regret nothing," Umbrix whispered.
Lysandra's lip curled. "You are a threat to Lumera. You bonded with something unnatural—something forbidden. You know what that makes you?"
"Awesome?"
The crowd didn't laugh.
Kaelion sighed. "Tough room."
The High Seer raised his staff. "Let it be known—should Kaelion Vael ever return to Lumera, he shall be executed on sight."
There it was. The final blow.
The crowd erupted again, but Kaelion didn't flinch. His gaze swept the city he'd been raised in—its crystal towers, its radiant arches, the impossible beauty of Solspire—and for a flicker of a moment, he felt… nothing.
No grief. No anger.
Just quiet.
Then someone threw a goblet. It shattered near his feet. Another threw a rock—this one hit his shoulder.
"Ow," he muttered. "Rude."
"Permission to maim?" Umbrix asked, hopefully.
"Still no."
The guards grabbed him by the arms and dragged him toward the edge of the Spire. The crowd surged with anticipation. Some shouted curses. Others wept. One noblewoman dramatically fainted, which Kaelion thought was a bit much.
He looked down.
Below, the Spiritwild stretched for miles—untamed, overgrown, pulsing with forgotten power. No one survived exile into the forest. Not without a bonded spirit, and certainly not with one like Umbrix.
"This is the part where you beg," one of the guards muttered.
Kaelion smiled.
"Tell Lysandra I said hi."
And then they shoved him.
He fell.
Wind roared in his ears. Marble, sky, and banners blurred together. He didn't scream.
He'd done enough of that during the ceremony.
"Now, Umbrix."
"With pleasure."
The shift was instant.
Shadow erupted from his chest like smoke made of memory. Coils of darkness wrapped around him, pulling him inward, wrapping him in a cocoon of cold that felt like home.
The world bent.
Kaelion vanished before he could hit the ground.
To the nobles of Lumera, it looked like the cursed prince simply disappeared.
When Kaelion reappeared, it was with a jolt that knocked the air from his lungs.
He landed hard, skidding across moss and leaves. His ribs screamed. His palms burned. His ears rang.
Somewhere above, birds—or maybe something worse—scattered from the trees.
He rolled onto his back, staring at a forest so dense it seemed to breathe. Light filtered through in slow-moving shafts, and the trees were wrong. Tall, twisted, half-alive.
The Spiritwild.
He was here.
Alive.
Bruised. Exiled. Possibly cursed.
But alive.
"You're welcome," Umbrix whispered, coiling inside his ribs like smoke."That landing was rough.""You're lucky you have bones left.""Do shadow serpents come with first-aid kits?""No. But I can chew on your enemies for you."
Kaelion stared up at the canopy, heart still racing.
Somewhere in the woods, something moved.
Watching.
Waiting.
The forest knew he was here.
And it remembered him.