Prince Xhiva trudged to his chambers, the cold of the stone floor barely registering against the deeper chill of shame. The whispers of onlookers, however, stung like nettles. He opened his door with trembling hands and stepped inside. His breath was unsteady, but his movements carried no anger—only a heavy, unshakable sadness.
All his life, Xhiva had wanted one thing: his father’s approval. His older brother, Prince Xander, was celebrated as one of the realm's strongest warriors. His older sister, Princess Xemena, despite her sharp tongue and fiery demeanor, was admired for her striking beauty. And then there was him—Xhiva stared at his reflection in the mirror, his own image mocking him. Rolls of fat hung over his frame, his shoulders slouched, his eyes hollow with self-loathing.
For a moment, frustration boiled over. His gaze flicked to the flail lying by the mirror—a dark wooden handle connected to a heavy chain ending in a spiked metallic ball. Without thinking, he grabbed it and swung. The mirror shattered, shards of glass scattering across the floor as he stood there, panting. Slowly, tears welled in his eyes, tracing their way down his round face.
"I was so close," he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice breaking. "That man ruined everything." He exhaled shakily, forcing down the bubbling rage that threatened to consume him.
Composing himself, Xhiva dressed, pulling on layers of clothing fit for the outdoors. His movements were methodical as he reached into a hidden compartment in his drawer. There, beneath a weathered garment, lay the holy crystal. He cradled it for a moment, his fingers trembling before tucking it securely into his pocket.
"It’s not over yet," he whispered to himself.
Shrouded in a heavy robe, Xhiva ensured no one saw him as he slipped into the shadows. His destination: a hidden passageway concealed behind a pillar, subtly different from the others in the castle. Pressing a specific stone, a hidden door creaked open, revealing a dark, narrow tunnel. He slipped inside, the door sealing shut behind him, blending seamlessly with the surrounding stone.
The air in the tunnel was damp and heavy, carrying the faint echo of distant dripping water. A voice cut through the silence. "Who goes there?"
Xhiva’s reply was soft but deliberate. "A guest of the Dragon."
There was a pause, then a sudden burst of light. Flames roared to life, illuminating the tunnel and stinging his eyes. As his vision adjusted, he saw the source of the light: a sword, its blade engulfed in fire, held aloft by a man.
"Welcome, Prince Xhiva," said the figure. It was Lion of the Xargian Guard, though he wore no snarling beast helmet tonight. His face, pale and unscarred, was framed by close-cropped blond hair. His piercing blue-gray eyes seemed to pierce through the dim tunnel. Black tattoos snaked from his neck downward, disappearing beneath his armor.
Lion’s voice was calm but urgent. "We don’t have much time. Follow me."
A heavy bag sat at his feet, clearly packed for a long journey. He slung it over his shoulder and turned, leading the way deeper into the tunnel. Xhiva followed in silence, his heart pounding. The air felt heavier with each step, his stomach twisting with anxiety. All he could think of was the summoning bell—what if it rang before he was back?
After what felt like an eternity, they reached the tunnel’s end. Lion sheathed his flaming sword, the fire extinguishing with a faint hiss. He carefully opened a hatch overhead, glancing around to ensure no one was near.
The two emerged into a small, unassuming storehouse on the outskirts of the castle grounds. Lion cracked the door open to the outside, his movements cautious and precise. The coast was clear.
They stepped into the cool night air and began their trek toward the city, the castle's imposing silhouette shrinking behind them. Neither man spoke, but Xhiva's thoughts churned with fear, hope, and the weight of the holy crystal tucked safely in his pocket.
Prince Xhiva and Lion moved quietly through the city, their steps eventually leading them to the poorer district. The air here was heavier, laced with the scent of damp wood and neglect. Before them stood a shack, its crooked frame and peeling walls uninviting. Lion came to an abrupt halt.
“Prince, this is where I leave you,” he said curtly, his tone sharp and unyielding. He extended a gloved hand. “The compensation. Now.”
Xhiva hesitated, then reached into the folds of his robe and produced a pouch. It was heavy with gold, enough to sustain a dozen lifetimes. He placed it into Lion’s waiting hand. The Xargian Guard opened it, his eyes briefly scanning its contents. Satisfied, he tucked the pouch into a compartment within his armor.
“It didn’t turn out as I planned,” Xhiva said, his voice tinged with regret.
Lion only nodded, his gaze flicking to the shadows, ever watchful. He didn’t want to linger longer than necessary.
As they neared the door of the shack, Xhiva asked, “What will you do now?”
Lion’s response came quickly, almost clipped. “I’ll leave Xandria. After that… we’ll see.” His words were laced with a bitterness he didn’t bother to mask.
“I’m sorry for—” Xhiva began, but Lion interrupted him.
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“Good luck, Prince. You’ll need it.” Without another word, Lion turned and disappeared into the night, his heavy bag swaying with each step.
Left alone, Xhiva raised a trembling hand and knocked on the door: five sharp raps, a brief pause, and then two more. A shuffle of movement came from within.
“Who goes there?” a voice demanded.
“A guest of the Dragon,” Xhiva replied.
The sound of several locks clicking echoed from behind the door. It creaked open just enough for Xhiva to slip inside. The voice greeted him, “Welcome, Prince.”
The door shut firmly behind him, sealing him in darkness. The windows were barricaded, allowing no light to penetrate the room. Xhiva’s eyes struggled to adjust, but even in the shadows, something sinister stirred. Two glowing, slitted yellow eyes emerged from the far side of the room, reptilian in their malevolence.
“Well, well, well, your highness. What an honor,” a voice sneered, drawing out the last word. It then corrected itself mockingly, “Oh, I’m sorry—Prince.” A chorus of low chuckles echoed from unseen figures in the room.
Xhiva stiffened, trying to locate the sources of the laughter, but his attention was drawn back to the eyes. The voice from the shadows was sharp now, its tone biting. “Your plan failed because you couldn’t keep your end of the bargain. You had no control over your subordinates.”
Xhiva swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “It wasn’t my fault. That man—Sir Niles—he’s the one to blame! If he hadn’t been there, if Father had just ended him, none of this would’ve happened!” His hands shook, staring at them as if they bore the weight of his failures.
The voice scoffed, dripping with disdain. “Don’t you dare shift the blame. I lost many good men because of your incompetence. Years—years—of planning, gone, because of you.”
From the darkness, another figure stepped forward. “Prince Zacharias,” the figure addressed the owner of the glowing eyes, “what are your orders?”
The glow shifted slightly as Zacharias, Prince of Zairule, leaned back in his chair. His tone was playful, almost cruel. “How much do you think the head of a Xandrian prince is worth?”
“For this one?” the figure replied. “Not much. But for his older brother? A fortune.”
Zacharias sighed theatrically, as though disappointed. “It’s your lucky day, Xhiva,” he said, his voice laced with mockery. “Now, do you have our compensation?”
Xhiva nodded and produced the holy crystal, its faint glow casting eerie patterns in the darkened room. One of Zacharias’s men approached, carefully taking it from Xhiva and presenting it to his prince.
“Status open,” Zacharias commanded. For a brief moment, his status window flared into existence, revealing information visible to all in the room. Then, just as quickly, he dismissed it. He gazed at the crystal in his hand, his voice dropping to a murmur. “To think, something so small has fueled so many wars.”
He stood, his men visibly relaxing at the prospect of departure. “We leave for Zairule tonight,” Zacharias announced, his tone triumphant. “This will change our kingdom’s future.” He turned his gaze back to Xhiva, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “And Xandria’s future as well.”
Xhiva’s heart sank, the weight of his choices crushing him. Yet, there was one thing he needed to know. “What about the goddess?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is she untouched?”
Zacharias’s grin widened. “Ah, such beauty,” he mused. “It took considerable restraint, but yes, she remains untouched.” His smile turned cruel. “Though, I’m sure she’d prefer the company of my men to you.” Laughter erupted from the soldiers.
Zacharias tossed a folded letter at Xhiva’s feet. “Here’s where she’s being kept. You’d better hurry—she doesn’t have much food or water left. Maybe she’ll fall in love with her savior.” His mocking laugh echoed through the room.
Xhiva picked up the letter, his hands trembling. One of Zacharias’s men stepped forward, his expression unreadable. “What do you wish to forget?”
Xhiva responded mechanically, as though this was routine. “Meeting you all. The escort by Lion. Giving away the holy crystal and…” He hesitated. “The punishment from my father earlier.”
The man nodded, placing a hand on Xhiva’s head. Zacharias smirked, leaning in for a final word. “A piece of advice, my friend,” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “Lies grow heavier with time. Once we’re gone, you’ll have to choose your words carefully to navigate the king’s gaze.”
The room fell silent save for Xhiva’s shuddering breath, the ominous warning sinking deep into his soul.
Zacharias’s subordinate placed a firm hand atop Xhiva’s head, his expression unreadable. Meanwhile, Zacharias and his men began filing out of the building, their boots echoing against the worn floorboards. At the threshold, Zacharias paused, turning slightly to deliver a parting remark.
“Farewell, Xhiva, prince of Xandria,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “Play your cards wisely—the spell only lasts a day.”
Xhiva remained silent, his lips pressed into a thin line. The subordinate holding his head muttered the incantation, “Forgive and forget.” A faint glow emanated from his palm, seeping through Xhiva’s dark hair like liquid light. It flowed downward, as if sinking into his very thoughts. For a fleeting moment, Xhiva’s scarlet eyes shimmered with a bluish hue before returning to their crimson glare.
When the haze in Xhiva’s mind cleared, he blinked in confusion, glancing around the dimly lit room. “What… what am I doing here?” he mumbled, his voice distant and uncertain.
In his hands, he noticed a folded letter with the words “Open tomorrow” scrawled across it. Without further thought, he tucked it securely into his robes.
The distant toll of bells suddenly broke the silence, ringing with an urgency that made his pulse quicken. His eyes widened. “The bells!” he exclaimed. “Father’s meeting is resuming.”
Spinning on his heel, Xhiva dashed out of the shack, his feet pounding against the uneven streets as he made his way back to the castle, each step taking him closer to the looming confrontation ahead.
Meanwhile, Zacharias, the first prince of Zairule, and his men mounted their horses and rode swiftly away from Xandria’s capital. Their homeland, a distant island far across the seas, still lay many miles ahead.
“Where to now, my lord?” one of his men inquired, glancing at Zacharias.
Zacharias slowed his horse slightly, pulling the holy crystal from his pocket. Its surface gleamed faintly in the moonlight as he inspected it. “Let’s pay the so-called goddess one last visit,” he mused aloud, his tone laced with intrigue. “I’m curious to see if she’s truly a goddess… or something else entirely.”
Another man smirked, his voice lowering to a suggestive tone. “Should we do something else with her while we’re at it?” The insinuation hung heavy in the air.
Zacharias turned toward him, shaking his head with a sly grin. “Patience,” he said, his voice calm but calculated. “There are still plenty of opportunities ahead to extract more bribes from Prince Xhiva in exchange for our silence.” He chuckled darkly, the gleam in his eyes revealing his scheming nature. “After all, our partnership must be built on trust, don’t you think?”
His men erupted into laughter, their sinister mirth echoing into the cold night as they rode toward the location where the so-called goddess remained imprisoned.