Three Years Later
Leo Kingdom, Inner Palace Grounds
The sun hung golden over the high towers of the Leo Kingdom's capital, its rays brushing the palace with a warmth that belied the quiet storm brewing within.
Lady Oliver had given birth to a daughter—a girl named Alyssa.
No fanfare marked her arrival, no celestial signs, no strange omens. And yet, from the moment she opened her eyes, the court fell in love. With her gentle light-brown gaze and curls of glimmering gold, the people dubbed her "The Golden Princess." Her birth softened many hearts, and for a time, the kingdom exhaled a sigh of peace.
But peace, in this palace, was only ever a pause.
Cain, now nine, had grown into a refined young boy with a quiet grace few could explain. His silver hair flowed like moonlight, and his midnight purple eyes still remained clouded—beautiful, yes, but forever dim to the world.
The healers had long stopped trying. The priests had declared it fate. The nobles, however, called it a curse. And they whispered more freely now than ever.
"The cursed prince… the blind heir… he'll never rule."
"It's why the king favors the girl, you'll see—he'll change the line of succession eventually."
"A child like that can't lead the Leo Kingdom. Not with eyes that see nothing."
But not all saw nothing in Cain.
Alyssa, despite her mother's subtle warnings and increasingly desperate attempts to sever the bond, clung to her half-brother with innocent devotion. She would toddle toward him the moment she could stand, crawl into his arms when she could not sleep, and giggle whenever he touched her nose, always finding her no matter where she was.
Oliver would scold. Sandra would watch.
And Cain… would smile.
He never pushed Alyssa away. In fact, he welcomed her presence with a warmth he showed to no one else. When others mocked or avoided him, Alyssa clung tighter. When servants turned cold, she snuck sweets into his room. When Oliver tried to separate them, Cain would simply… find her again. Always.
Strangely, Cain was never startled. He always knew where she was.
It was said that Cain's eyes had failed him—but no one had yet noticed how unnaturally sharp his other senses had become. He could hear a breath change in a heartbeat. Smell a blooming flower hours before it reached the hall. Taste a lie in a servant's voice. And his hands—delicate, searching, graceful—could trace a painting and retell its story with eerie clarity.
More than that, what none outside Queen Sandra's inner circle knew… was Cain's affinity with magic.
The blind prince had begun to manipulate raw mana with a precision that unsettled even the most seasoned court magicians. He could detect fluctuations without sight, distinguish elemental traces with a touch. And his control—so elegant, so measured—made it seem as though he could see the very flow of the world without needing eyes at all.
But still, the kingdom did not see. Or perhaps, it refused to.
The court remained divided.
On one side: King Alaric and his growing circle, bolstered by the beauty of Lady Oliver and the charm of the Golden Princess. On the other: Queen Sandra, the veiled empress of influence whose supporters had quietly woven a network of alliances, vassals, and hidden admirers.
What appeared to be domestic peace… was actually a veiled cold war.
And at the center of it—two children.
One bathed in light, beloved by all.
The other, wrapped in shadow, misunderstood and feared.
And yet, only one of them had begun to feel the stir of something ancient beneath his skin.
A whisper. A pulse.
A power… waiting to awaken.