KAELEN STORMRIDER
The walls of the cell felt like they were closing in on him. Every breath was heavy, filled with the weight of the spirits' presence, their whispers a constant hum in his ears. The torment was relentless—an unyielding force that seemed to gnaw at his mind and soul. Kaelen could feel his once unshakable resolve beginning to crumble under the pressure.
The days blurred into one another, each one indistinguishable from the last. He no longer felt the pull of the sea, the invigorating gusts of wind, or the salty spray on his skin. Instead, the air in Druumari felt thick—suffocating—as if it were infused with the very essence of the spirits that haunted this land. He had no control. He had no escape. The curse bound him here, deeper than the chains that held his body.
And then, one evening, as the moonlight spilled through the small iron-barred window of his cell, Kaelen's frustration finally boiled over. The oppressive silence, the constant presence of the spirits, the weight of the curse—it was too much. He couldn't stand it anymore. His fury surged, and for the first time in days, he felt an overwhelming urge to confront the one person who could give him answers.
Seraphine.
He had avoided her for days—partly because he knew how futile it would be to provoke her, and partly because he didn't want to face the cold, distant woman who held his fate in her hands. But tonight, he was beyond reason. The spirits pushed him to the edge, and his own anger was a fire he could no longer suppress.
He stood up abruptly, his joints cracking as he moved, and stalked to the iron door of his cell. With a single motion, he shoved it open, the clang of metal echoing down the narrow hallway. His breath came in short, furious gasps, his chest tight with the overwhelming weight of his emotions.
Kaelen had always been in control—of himself, of his crew, of the storms that raged within him. But now? He was nothing more than a broken man, shackled to a land that had no place for him, a place where the very spirits sought to tear him apart.
Seraphine's cold, calculated gaze met him the moment he stepped into the hallway. She was standing at the far end, her silhouette framed by the dim light from the lanterns hanging on the walls. Her presence, as always, was suffocating—both a physical and emotional weight he couldn't escape. But tonight, there was something different in Kaelen's eyes. A wildness. A desperation.
"What are you doing out of your cell, little prince?" She asked dryly.
"The door was unlocked," he groaned.
"Just because it was unlocked, doesn't mean you were allowed to leave," she spat.
"I need answers," he said, his voice harsh and low. "Tell me what this is. What the hell is happening to me?"
Seraphine's expression remained unreadable, as though she had expected this. Her violet eyes, those eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the world, never left his face. But there was no sympathy. No pity. Only the same indifference that had marked her every action since their first encounter.
"Answers?" she repeated, her voice cool and detached, as if she were speaking to a child rather than a prince. "There is nothing to explain, little prince. You are bound to this land, just as you always were. The spirits have claimed you. If they claimed you, it means you were always destined to be claimed."
His fists clenched, the burning frustration rising once again. "You think I don't know that?" His voice cracked with the weight of the words, but he pressed on. "You think I don't feel it? The spirits—they haunt me. They whisper to me. They're tearing me apart, and I don't know why. You know something, Seraphine. You know what's happening to me. So stop acting like this is some curse I deserve. Tell me what you're hiding."
Seraphine's gaze flickered for just a moment—there was something there, something behind the mask of indifference—but it was gone before Kaelen could fully register it. She stepped forward, closing the distance between them with a deliberate grace that only added to her commanding presence, chin up to meet his eyes.
"You want to understand, Kaelen?" she asked, her voice quieter now, but no less cold. "You want to understand why the spirits torment you? Why they cling to you, whispering your name in the dark?"
Kaelen nodded, his breath shallow. His heart raced. There was something in her tone now—something different. Maybe, just maybe, she was finally going to tell him what he needed to know.
But Seraphine's next words shattered that fleeting hope.
"Because you are one of them."
Her words hit him like a blow to the chest. He staggered back, his mind reeling as her icy gaze locked onto his.
"I don't understand," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper, as though speaking the words aloud would make them real. "I'm not one of them. I'm not dead. I'm a prince of Vyrdantia. I am the heir to the throne. I am—"
"You are nothing to the spirits, little prince." Her words were final, cutting through his thoughts with a sharpness that stung. "You are a part of this land, whether you accept it or not. You were always meant to be here, to be bound to the land of Druumari. The spirits chose you the moment you set foot on these shores."
Kaelen's mind raced, his heart hammering in his chest. "But why? What the hell do they want from me? Why are they doing this?"
Seraphine's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile, but it held no warmth. "They do not want anything from you, little prince. It is not about desire. It is about necessity. The land, the curse, the spirits—they are all one. And you are a part of that. Whether you fight it or not, the land is in your blood now. Your fate is intertwined with Druumari's. There is no escaping it."
Kaelen took a step back, his mind scrambling to make sense of her words. It was impossible. Everything he had ever known—his identity, his purpose—was now being called into question. How could this be? How could he, a prince of Vyrdantia, the son of a storm god, be bound to a place like this? A land of shadows, curses, and spirits?
"You're lying," he spat, his voice filled with disbelief. "There has to be a way out. There has to be—"
Seraphine's gaze hardened, her tone growing colder. "No. There is no way out. You are as much a prisoner of this land as I am. The spirits have claimed you, Kaelen Stormrider, just as they have claimed all who come to Druumari. You can try to run. You can fight. But in the end, you will never escape. And if you do... if you do manage to leave the land, it'll always haunt you, it'll always guide your fate so you will fall in this shores or cross into these borders again."
"This isn't a normal land, little prince, this is where the veil between the realm of the spirits and the realm of the living are the thinnest, almost one. You tried to attack my kingdom, to harm my people, to conquer this land that the spirits have claimed, and now, they have claimed you in return for your sin," she continued. "You shouldn't have come here. You father is a fool if he thinks him and his little minions could ever destroy my land, they'll never conquer Druumari, and if they ever try to come here in person, which I doubt given how much of a coward he is, his spirit will forever be doomed by the ones that protect my land."
Kaelen's chest tightened, the weight of her words sinking deep into his heart. He was nothing more than a puppet in their game, a plaything for the spirits that ruled this cursed land. His rage, his defiance—it all seemed so small now. The land was vast, its power ancient and all-consuming.
He felt the ground beneath him shift, the weight of his realization sinking in. There was no escape. No hope. His blood was bound to Druumari, and its spirits would never let him go.
"Then what?" Kaelen asked, his voice low and broken. "What do I do now? Live out the rest of my life as a prisoner of this land?"
Seraphine's expression softened—just a fraction—but it was enough. For a moment, he saw something other than coldness in her eyes. Maybe it was pity. Maybe it was something else. But before he could decipher it, she spoke again.
"That's where you're mistaken. There is no living in Druumari, little prince. There is only surviving. And whether you survive it is up to you."
Kaelen swallowed hard, the weight of her words hanging in the air. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, but this time, there was no fire in him. No anger. Just... acceptance. His fate had been sealed the moment he had set foot on this cursed land.
And now, there was no escaping it. No matter how much he hated it, no matter how much he fought, Kaelen Stormrider was bound to Druumari. Just like Seraphine. Just like the spirits.
For the first time since the storm had wrecked his fleet, Kaelen understood. His body, his soul, his very essence—they were all tied to this land. And no amount of defiance would change that.
He was trapped.
But he realized he wasn't the only one. Seraphine also was trapped with no escape.