Part 1: The Whisper in the Night
Moonlight spilled across the polished marble floor of Kaelrith's private ante-chamber, illuminating pools of shadow that twisted like living things. He'd dismissed his guard—none of them would stand between him and Seraphina tonight—but that left him vulnerable. He didn't care. The thrill of danger still called to the remnants of the boy he'd been.
A soft rustle sounded behind him.
He spun, hand on the hilt of his dagger, but there was nothing—only the heavy curtain leading to his bedchamber, swaying as if something had passed through.
"Show yourself," he said, voice low.
Silence answered.
Kaelrith advanced, dagger drawn. He passed the silken hangings into his bedchamber, where the moon cast a pale glow over the wide canopy bed. There, on the pillow, lay a single black feather.
He frowned. This was no ordinary omen.
He picked it up—and felt a pulse of magic, cold and precise.
Then he heard it: a faint hiss, like a blade sliding free.
He whirled again—too late. A figure emerged from behind the far curtain, clad in dark leather and masked in the shape of a viper's head. In one hand, the Assassin's Warden—a curved dagger forged from star-iron. In the other, a star-tipped coil of black rope.
Before Kaelrith could speak, the assassin struck.
Part 2: Dance of Blades
Kaelrith deflected the first blow with his dagger, sparks flying as star-iron met enchanted steel. The assassin was fast—lightning fast—each strike precise, aimed to kill with the minimum of sound. He moved with fluid grace, shadow steps that made him appear to vanish between blows.
Kaelrith countered, drawing on the storm magic still humming beneath his skin. A crackle of electricity leapt from his fingertips, forcing the assassin to backstep. The blade cut a shallow arc in Kaelrith's sleeve, but the prince stood firm.
"You're stubborn," the assassin rasped through the mask. "Just like him."
"Who sent you?" Kaelrith demanded, advancing.
The assassin's only reply was another flurry of strikes. Kaelrith parried and ducked, grief and rage coiling in his chest: grief for every life cut short by this war, rage for every plot against Seraphina.
With a crack of thunder, Kaelrith summoned a storm-lash across the floor, tripping the assassin. In the same motion, Kaelrith lashed out with lightning, engulfing the assassin's blade and wrenching it from his grip.
The assassin rolled, regained his feet, and vanished into shadow.
Kaelrith stood alone in the moonlight, dagger at the ready—but the assassin was gone.
Only the black feather remained, drifting to the floor.
Part 3: Blood and Questions
By dawn, Kaelrith was in the war chamber, face pale but resolute. The Council assembled, expecting reports of border skirmishes. Instead, he tossed the feather onto the obsidian table.
"An assassin was inside my chambers last night," he announced. "And I want to know who sent him."
Gasps filled the hall. Lord Vaeron's smile slipped. The Duke of Halyon leaned forward, voice tremulous: "Your Highness, are you certain it was an attempt on your life?"
Kaelrith nodded. "I am certain. And I will not tolerate such treachery under my roof."
The Council erupted into accusations—some defending Kaelrith's security, others whispering about court factions. But Kaelrith's silver eyes found one target.
"Chancellor Vaeron," he said quietly. "Explain this feather."
Vaeron's gaze flickered to the feather, then back to Kaelrith. "Your Highness—these are the feathers of the Nightshade Clan. They've lain dormant for decades."
"Except someone awakened them," Kaelrith replied.
Vaeron's voice was smooth. "A desperate act by rebels, no doubt."
Kaelrith leaned forward. "Or a warning from someone closer to home."
Silence fell. Kaelrith sat back.
"I don't know who sent the assassin," he said. "But I will find out."
Part 4: Seraphina's Vigil
High above the palace, atop the shattered observatory tower, Seraphina knelt before a ring of lanterns, each etched with a rune of warding. Around her, Elya and two silent acolytes stood guard.
The wards flickered—some dimmed by residual storm magic.
"It's him," Seraphina whispered. "He's using star-iron against the wards. He's stronger than I feared."
Elya placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "He's stronger because he's remembering. Because you gave him back his power."
Seraphina exhaled. "But at what cost? An assassin nearly killed him."
Elya shook her head. "That was never avoidable. For him to claim the crown, enemies must come."
Seraphina's jaw hardened. "Then we strike first."
Elya's eyes widened. "You would lead him into war so soon?"
She stood. "He's already in war. And the first battle is coming tonight."
Part 5: Shadows at the Gate
That evening, the gates to the palace opened to admit a caravan of merchant-diplomats from the Eastern Isles. Kaelrith met them in the Great Hall, Seraphina at his side, both radiant in court attire.
Draped across their shoulders were cloaks of woven starlight—gifts to secure an alliance. But Seraphina's hood remained up, concealing her silver hair.
They exchanged pleasantries. They negotiated trade pacts.
And all the while, Kaelrith scanned the crowd for a black-clad shadow.
It appeared at the edge of his vision: the assassin's mask, the silent step.
Kaelrith excused himself from the delegation and slipped down a side corridor, Seraphina following quietly.
They burst into the Guardhouse—a place of torches and spears and sleeping soldiers.
But the assassin was not there.
Instead, at the far end, a lone guard knelt, a dagger driven through his throat.
And tied to his belt… another black feather.
Part 6: The Hunt Begins
Kaelrith sank to one knee beside the body, pressing his palm to the guard's chest. A faint heartbeat beneath his palm: as if the assassin left him alive, to spread fear.
Seraphina knelt beside Kaelrith, eyes blazing. "He wants us to chase shadows."
Kaelrith stood, voice calm but cold. "Then we'll chase him—everywhere."
He turned to the assembled soldiers, raising his hand. "Lock down the palace. No one leaves without my permission. Find the assassin—and the one who sent him."
The guards bowed and rushed to obey. Seraphina rose, slipping an arm through Kaelrith's.
He placed his hand over hers. "Be ready."
Her lips curved into a determined smile. "Always."