I do not belong here.
That is the first thing I learned in this golden prison they call a palace. A home, they say. A gift. A blessing. But I know the truth. I was brought here not out of love, but necessity. A desperate act by a desperate king and queen who could not bear the idea of an empty throne if their fragile, precious twins did not survive.
I was a replacement.
A borrowed soul, a shadow meant to stand in place of their own flesh and blood should fate prove cruel. Yet, fate was kinder than they expected. The twins lived. And so I became... something else. A piece that did not fit, an answer to a question that was never asked.
I have a brother. A sister. Twins, perfect and shining like the sun and the moon. The true children of this kingdom, the golden prince and silver princess. They were born with light in their eyes, with magic in their veins, with the love of the people wrapped around them like a second skin.
I was born somewhere else, to someone else. And I have no magic.
Not like them.
They glow when they laugh, their powers spilling from their fingertips in sparks of gold and silver. They make the air hum with their presence, bending the world to their will with effortless grace. They are beauty. They are power. They are everything this kingdom needs.
And I am nothing.
I am the shadow trailing behind them. The odd one in every family portrait. The stranger among the beloved. The one whose name is spoken in soft, hesitant whispers rather than joyful cries.
They love me. Or at least, they believe they do. The queen kisses my forehead, the king rests a heavy hand upon my shoulder, the twins cling to me as though I am a part of them. But it is a love built on obligation, on the memory of a moment when they thought they might lose everything. A love that carries the weight of guilt, of pity, of something unspoken and ugly beneath its gilded surface.
I do not belong here.
And yet, I cannot leave.
The palace walls hold secrets. I feel them pressing against my skin, whispering in my ear when the corridors are empty and the night is heavy with silence. Something lurks beneath this place, something unseen, something watching. I see it in the way the shadows move when no one else is looking. I hear it in the way the wind howls through the throne room, screaming without a voice.
The twins do not notice. They are too wrapped in their golden world, too lost in the comfort of knowing they are loved, wanted, needed.
But I notice. And it notices me.
There is magic in this bloodline. Ancient magic. Terrible magic. It hums beneath their skin, a song only they can hear, a power only they can wield. But magic is never without cost. And I wonder—am I part of that cost? Am I the balance to their brilliance? A dull, magicless thing to counter their shining existence?
Sometimes, when I stare too long into the mirror, I see something else staring back.
Something that is not me.
A boy with my face but not my eyes. A shadow curled around the edges of my reflection, whispering things I do not understand. Or perhaps things I understand too well.
"You do not belong here."
I know.
"They do not need you."
I know.
"They will throw you away when the time comes."
I...
I do not know. But I believe.
The twins, they love me. They say they do. They hold my hands, they share their secrets, they call me their brother. But sometimes, just sometimes, I see something else in their eyes. A flicker of confusion, of doubt, of hesitation. As though, for just a moment, they, too, wonder why I am here. What purpose I serve. What I am supposed to be.
I wonder if they know. If they have been told the truth. If they understand that I was never meant to stay. That I was just a precaution. A spare part. A thing to be discarded when its use has run out.
And if they do not know now, I wonder when they will find out.
I wonder what they will do.
I hear the whispers in the dark, the voices that do not belong to the living. I see the way the servants avert their eyes, the way the nobles murmur behind their hands. There is something wrong in this palace. Something hidden. Something waiting.
And I think it has been waiting for me.
Sometimes, I dream of fire. Of walls crumbling, of screams echoing through the halls, of the sky painted in smoke and ruin. I see my siblings, standing amidst the wreckage, their golden and silver light flickering like dying stars. And I see myself, standing apart, untouched by the flames, the only thing in the world that does not burn.
And I wake with the taste of ash on my tongue.
I do not belong here.
But maybe, just maybe, I was brought here for a reason.
Maybe I was never meant to be their replacement.
Maybe I,Cid Nelaoji was meant to be their end.
And also this reminds me admission will soon open to take admission in the best Magical Academy, The Royal Magical Academy of Kadven.