The palace was wrapped in silence when Kael moved. Cloaked in black, the Moonsilver Sword strapped across his back, he slipped through corridors he had walked since boyhood, every step a betrayal of the king's command. But his mind was set—he would not leave Isolde to rot in a cage while Varrow tightened his hold on the crown.
Two guards stood at her door, their hands resting uneasily on their hilts. Kael's heart burned with fury as he saw how they avoided looking into the cell, as though fearing her very presence.
He approached with measured calm, his hand on his sword's hilt. "You've been relieved," he said firmly, his voice carrying the authority of a prince. "Go."
The guards exchanged uncertain glances, but Kael's steel-hard gaze left them no room to argue. They saluted and left, their footsteps fading into silence.
Kael slid the key into the lock, the iron door groaning open.
Inside, Isolde rose, her golden light flickering faintly at her palms. Exhaustion shadowed her face, but her eyes blazed when they met his. "Kael…"
He pulled her into his arms. "I won't let them cage you. Not while I live."
Before they could move, the shadows in the corridor thickened. The torches sputtered, their flames snuffed out by a cold wind. A voice slithered through the dark.
"So predictable."
Varrow emerged from the gloom, his black cloak trailing like smoke, his smile faint and merciless. "Did you truly think you could steal the flame from under my gaze? You insult me, Prince Kael."
Kael drew the Moonsilver Sword, its runes blazing silver. "Step aside, Varrow. Or face the blade that bound your master."
Varrow's laugh was low, silken, cruel. "Ah, the relic. Do you think that sword makes you more than a child playing at war? Steel cannot sever whispers. Chains cannot hold forever."
He lifted a hand, and shadows surged like a tide, clawing across the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Isolde flared her magic, golden fire lashing outward, colliding with the wave of darkness. The cell shuddered, light and shadow clashing in a storm that rattled the stones.
Kael pushed forward, his sword slicing through tendrils of shadow. Each strike sent sparks of silver light scattering, forcing Varrow to step back. For the first time, the adviser's calm cracked, his smile thinning as the Moonsilver Sword sang with every blow.
"Impressive," Varrow hissed, his eyes glinting. "But the more you fight, the more the Hollow feeds. Every spark of her fire weakens the chains further. You are not delaying the Shadow King—you are hastening him."
Isolde's magic flared brighter, her voice cutting through the storm. "Then let the Hollow hear me: I will burn, yes—but not for him. For Aeloria!"
Her golden light surged, blasting the shadows back and shaking the chamber. Varrow staggered, cloak smoldering, his eyes narrowing with fury.
"This is not finished," he spat, retreating into the dark. His voice lingered even as his form vanished. "Run, if you like. Every step you take only brings the crown of shadows closer."
Silence fell, broken only by their ragged breaths.
Kael turned to Isolde, gripping her hand. "We can't stay. Not in this palace. Not while Varrow holds Father in his palm. We run now—or we're lost."
Isolde nodded, her heart racing. Together, they slipped into the night, the Moonsilver Sword gleaming at Kael's back, her golden light burning faintly against the dark.
Behind them, the palace of Aeloria stood tall beneath the moon—but within its walls, whispers crawled like poison, and Varrow's shadow stretched longer than ever.