The palace gardens at dawn were a different world. Mist clung to the hedges like whispered secrets, and the first rays of sun pierced through rose trellises, turning dew into tiny diamonds. Draven walked the gravel paths alone, boots crunching softly. He had slipped out before most of the court stirred—no guards trailing him this time. He needed space to think, to feel the curse without eyes on him.
The Shadow Veil wasn't just fatigue anymore. It had moods. On quiet mornings like this, it felt almost gentle—a cool hand on his forehead, urging rest. But he knew better. It was waiting, patient as stone, for the moment his guard dropped.
He stopped by a small fountain shaped like a blooming lotus. Water trickled over marble petals, the sound steady and calming. Draven closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of wet earth and night-blooming jasmine.
Focus.
He extended his senses, reaching for the dormant Mana Affinity. In his old life, meditation had been a half-hearted attempt at self-help apps. Here, it was survival.
A faint warmth stirred in his core—blue, not the golden light of his mother's memories. He coaxed it outward, letting it pool in his palms. The spark from yesterday had been accidental. This time, he shaped it deliberately: a small orb of azure light, flickering like a candle in wind.
The curse reacted immediately. Whispers slithered into his mind, soft but insistent.
You play with fire you cannot control. Dim the light. Rest. Fade.
Draven's jaw tightened. He held the orb steady for ten heartbeats, then fifteen. Sweat beaded on his brow despite the cool air. The whispers grew sharper, like nails on glass.
Unworthy heir. Your mother's light abandoned you. Why fight what is already lost?
The orb wavered, dimmed. Draven forced more will into it. The blue brightened—briefly—then snapped out. Pain lanced through his chest, sharp enough to make him stagger.
He caught himself on the fountain's edge, breathing ragged.
System Notification:
[Mana Control Attempt: Partial Success. +5 Mana Affinity progress.]
[Curse Resistance Training: +3 Vitality resistance (cumulative). Whispers intensity reduced by 5% for 24 hours.]
[Daily Quest Unlocked: Meditate in Silence for 30 Minutes Daily. Reward: 10 points + Minor Mana Recovery.]
Draven wiped his face with his sleeve. Small wins. That's how he'd survive this.
Back in his chambers, Liora was waiting with breakfast. She had taken to arriving earlier each day, as if sensing the shift in him.
"Your Highness," she said, curtsying. "You were out early. The gardens are peaceful this time of morning."
"Too peaceful," he replied, sitting. "Makes the noise in my head louder."
Liora's hands paused over the teapot. "The whispers again?"
He looked at her sharply. She flushed.
"I... overheard servants talking years ago. When you first withdrew. They said the prince heard voices. I thought it was just rumor."
Draven studied her. Loyalty wasn't blind obedience. It was choosing to stay when others fled.
"It's real," he said quietly. "But I'm learning to fight it. Don't tell anyone."
"Never," she whispered. "I serve you, not the court gossip."
He nodded, accepting the tea. It was chamomile and mint—calming herbs. She remembered his preferences from the original memories.
"Today," he said, "I need to meet Kairos again. Discreetly. And if you see Captain Sylvara in the halls... let her know I'd like a word. Privately."
Liora's eyes widened slightly. "The captain? She's... formidable. But fair. I'll pass the message through the servants' network."
After eating, Draven headed back to the archives. The halls were busier now—courtiers hurrying to morning audiences, maids carrying linens. He kept his head down, hood up, blending as best a prince could.
Kairos was in the same restricted corridor, sorting scrolls with practiced efficiency. He looked up when Draven approached, violet eyes lighting with recognition.
"You're early. And alone. Brave or foolish?"
"Both," Draven said. "Show me what you copied."
Kairos pulled a slim leather folder from under a stack of innocent-looking ledgers. Inside: neat handwritten notes in fine script, diagrams sketched precisely.
"From Bindings of the Veil," Kairos explained. "The curse is layered. Outer shell feeds on despair—explains your withdrawal phase. Inner core requires a blood trigger. Royal blood. And it's tied to an artifact or person. Break the link, break the curse."
Draven scanned the pages. One diagram showed a veiled figure holding a cracked amulet. Runes beneath read: The Lightkeeper's Tear – Vessel of Binding.
"Lightkeeper's Tear," Draven murmured. "Mother wore a pendant like that. Sapphire, shaped like a tear. She called it her 'quiet guardian'."
Kairos leaned in. "If that's the vessel, it's either destroyed... or hidden. And whoever placed the curse likely has the counterpart."
Draven closed the folder. "This stays between us."
"Obviously," Kairos said dryly. "I'm not suicidal. But if we're doing this, I need to know your endgame. Throne? Revenge? Or just survival?"
Draven met his gaze. "All three. But survival first."
Kairos nodded slowly. "Fair. I'll dig for mentions of the Tear in other texts. Quietly. Come back in three days—I'll have more."
As Draven turned to leave, Kairos added, "One more thing. The restricted vault you mentioned in passing yesterday? It's warded against unauthorized entry. But there's a maintenance passage—used by archivists for cleaning. Risky, but possible."
Draven paused. "Noted."
He left the archives feeling heavier—and lighter. Allies were forming, fragile but real.
Midday brought unexpected company.
Captain Sylvara Kaelthorn found him in the small private courtyard where he'd trained the day before. She approached alone, armor clinking softly, hand never far from her sword.
"Your Highness," she said, voice low. "Your maid said you wished to speak."
Draven sheathed the practice blade he'd been holding. "Captain. Thank you for coming."
She studied him—emerald eyes sharp as blades. "You've changed. The way you move. The way you look at people. Like a man who's decided to stop dying slowly."
He didn't deny it. "I have questions about my mother. The official reports say nothing useful. You were in the Vanguard then. You might have seen something."
Sylvara's expression tightened. "I was a junior guard. On duty the night she vanished. I patrolled the east wing. Heard nothing unusual. Saw nothing. But..."
"But?"
She hesitated—the first crack in her composure. "There was a shadow. Not literal. A feeling. Like the air grew heavier. And later, when we searched her chambers... her pendant was gone. The Lightkeeper's Tear. King Eldric never mentioned it publicly. Said it was lost in the confusion."
Draven's pulse quickened. "You think it was taken?"
"I think someone wanted it gone," she said. "And I think that someone is still in this palace."
Silence stretched between them.
"Why tell me this?" Draven asked.
"Because," Sylvara replied, "I swore an oath to protect the royal family. All of it. Not just the ones in power today. If you're truly waking up... prove it. Don't just talk. Act. And when you do, remember—loyalty isn't given. It's earned."
She turned to leave.
"Captain," Draven called. "If I need help—discreet help—can I count on you?"
She paused at the archway. "Prove you're worth helping first. Then we'll see."
She vanished into the corridor.
Draven exhaled. Another thread. Another risk.
Afternoon turned to rigorous training. He pushed harder today—sword forms until his arms burned, footwork drills until his legs trembled. The curse fought back with whispers, but they were fainter now, dulled by yesterday's resistance.
System Update:
[Training Complete: +20 points. Total: 65.]
[Sword Intent (Level 1 → Level 2): Precision +5%, Reaction time minor boost.]
[New Stat Point Available: Allocate now? Y/N]
He allocated to Agility. Felt the difference immediately—movements smoother, lighter.
As dusk fell, he returned to his chambers. Liora had left a note: Dinner will be late. Thorne requested a private audience with the king. Rumors say border tensions rising.
Draven sat by the fire, staring into flames. The sealed tome quest nagged at him. The maintenance passage Kairos mentioned... tempting.
But not tonight. Too soon. Too reckless.
Instead, he meditated again—thirty minutes by the window, rain starting to patter against glass. The blue orb appeared easier this time. Held longer.
Whispers tried: Fool. They will betray you. Like everyone else.
He ignored them. Focused on the light.
Quest Complete: Meditate 30 Minutes. +10 points. Total: 75.]
[Mana Affinity Progress: 12% toward Awakening.]
Night deepened. Draven lay in bed, mind turning over pieces: the pendant, the blood trigger, the sealed origin.
A soft knock—Liora, with a late supper tray.
"Your Highness, the audience ended. Thorne left angry. The king denied his request for command of the border patrol."
Draven smiled faintly. "Good. Let him stew."
She set the tray down, then hesitated. "There's something else. A servant overheard Aurelisse speaking to her lady-in-waiting. She mentioned 'the old seal must hold.' And 'the boy is stirring too much.'"
Draven's eyes narrowed. "The old seal..."
The curse? The pendant? Both?
Liora bowed. "Be careful, my prince. They're watching closer now."
She left.
Alone, Draven stood at the window, rain streaking the glass like tears. The palace lights twinkled below—beautiful, deceptive.
He touched his chest where the faint curse marks sometimes appeared in mirrors.
"Soon," he whispered to the night.
A new notification glowed:
[Quest Progress: Survive the Week – Day 3/7. Assassination attempt probability: Rising.]
[Bonus Objective: Secure One Reliable Ally. Reward: 50 points.]
Kairos? Sylvara? Liora was already loyal, but counted as servant, not ally in system terms perhaps.
He had time. Three days left in the week quest.
But the curse whispered one last time before sleep claimed him:
Time is running out, little prince. Tick... tock...
Draven rolled over, smiling into the dark.
"Let it run."