Aric Vale
Lieutenant Damon Reeves had died in an abandoned mill, three miles from the main road. We reached it just as the sun touched the horizon, painting the old structure in shades of red and gold.
The mill's wheel was broken, half-collapsed into the stream that had once powered it. The building itself leaned precariously, boards missing from the walls like gaps in a smile.
"He was found inside," Garrett said, dismounting. "Eight weeks ago. A traveling merchant spotted crows circling and investigated."
We approached on foot, the soldiers in tight formation around me. My hands were bound in front now, giving me slightly more freedom but still marking me as prisoner.
The smell hit as we entered. Eight weeks of decay in an enclosed space. I breathed shallowly, forcing my stomach to settle.
The body was in the back corner, skeletal now. Scraps of uniform still clung to bones. The Royal Guard insignia was visible on what remained of the shoulder.
And there, burned into the ribcage, the Mark of the Vale.
I knelt beside the remains, studying them with professional detachment. The same throat wounds, the same claw marks. Same precision, same technique.
But something was different here.
"Look at the floor," I said.
Garrett crouched beside me. The wooden floorboards around the body showed deep gouges. Four parallel scratches, like claw marks, carved into the wood.
"He was dragged," I said. "From the entrance to here. You can see where the marks start by the door."
Captain Lyons examined the entrance. "You're right. Trail of scratches leading from outside. But why drag him? Why not just kill him where you caught him?"
"Because I, because of the shadow, wanted privacy. I wanted to talk to him first." I stood, following the scratch marks backward. They led out the mill door, down to the stream bank. "The attack started here. He was probably coming to the stream for water. The shadow caught him, dragged him inside."
"How long would that take?" Garrett asked.
"With his wounds? Fighting back? Maybe two minutes. Maybe less."
"And no one heard," Lyons said. "No one saw. Despite this being only three miles from a traveled road."
"It happened at night," I said with certainty. I don't know how I knew, but I did. "The shadow hunts at night. That's when it's strongest, when the split is most complete."
I walked back inside, stood over the body. I tried to feel some memory of it, some connection.
Nothing. Just emptiness.
But as I stared at the burned mark on the ribs, something shifted in my vision. The world tilted slightly, and suddenly I was seeing double again.
Present and past overlapping.
I saw the mill as it was now, abandoned, decaying, empty.
And I saw it as it had been eight weeks ago, dark, filled with the sound of Reeves's terrified breathing.
The memory flooded through me:
Reeves backed into the corner, sword drawn but hands shaking. Blood was already streaming from the throat wounds I'd given him.
"Please," he gasped. "I didn't want to, they made me…"
"Who made you?" My voice, but not my voice. Harder. Colder.
"The princess, she said if we didn't help, she'd," He coughed blood. "She'd tell the king we betrayed him. Frame us all for treason."
"What did you help her do?"
"The prince, she poisoned him, we were supposed to make it look like an ambush…" His legs gave out. He slid down the wall, leaving a blood trail.
"And Aric?" I heard myself ask. "What happened to him?"
"She cursed him. Right after. While he was still in shock from seeing the prince die. Some kind of dark magic she'd been studying. Split his soul so he'd never be a credible witness." Reeves's eyes were fading. "She said one half would remember nothing and accept blame. The other half would remember everything but be dismissed as a monster. Perfect plan."
"Except the monster remembers," I said. "And the monster is coming for everyone involved."
"You already got most of us. Sarah, Helena, Drake, Marcus, all dead. I'm the last of the soldiers." He smiled bitterly through blood. "You win."
"I don't win until she pays too." I pressed my palm to his chest, and felt the mark burning into flesh. "This is justice, not murder. Remember that when you meet the gods."
Then he was dead, and I was walking away, satisfied with another name crossed off the list.
The memory released me. I staggered back, gasping.
"Aric?" Garrett grabbed my arm, steadying me.
"She did it," I said. "The princess. Princess Elara. She killed Dorian."
Silence fell over the mill.
"What?" Captain Lyons said finally.
"The princess murdered Prince Dorian. Poisoned him during the border patrol. Made it look like an ambush. The soldiers, Reeves and the others, helped her. She threatened them, forced them to cooperate." The words tumbled out. "Then she cursed me. Split my soul so I couldn't witness against her. One half to forget and take blame, one half to remember but be dismissed as monstrous."
"That's…" Lyons started.
"Insane?" I finished. "Yes. But it's the truth. Reeves told me before he died. Told the shadow. That's why it's been hunting them all down. Not random murders, systematic elimination of everyone who helped her kill the prince."
Garrett's face had gone pale. "If that's true, if the princess really killed Prince Dorian…"
"Then she's not a victim," I said. "She wasn't kidnapped. She left on her own."
"Why?" Lyons demanded. "If she got away with murder for seven years, why leave now?"
"Because the shadow is coming for her," I realized. "It killed all the soldiers who helped her. All the witnesses to her crime. She's the last one left. She knows it's hunting her, so she ran."
"Or she's leading you into a trap," Garrett said quietly. "Think about it. If she cursed you, if she created your shadow half, then maybe she can still control it. Maybe she's using it to eliminate loose ends, then summon you out of exile to finish the job."
The thought chilled me. "Finish what job?"
"Kill the king's court. Frame you for everything. Make you the scapegoat again, but this time permanently." Garrett's expression was grim. "The king's beloved daughter, supposedly kidnapped and murdered by the cursed knight. It gives her victim status while eliminating anyone who might question what really happened seven years ago."
"But we know the truth now," Lyons said. "We know she killed the prince."
"Do we?" Garrett countered. "We have Aric's word that he had a vision where a dead man confessed. That's not proof. That won't convince the king or the court."
He was right. Without evidence, without living witnesses, it was just my word against a princess everyone loved.
A princess who'd already proven she could manipulate people into believing lies.
"Then we need proof," I said. "Real, undeniable proof of what she did."
"How?" Lyons asked. "Everyone who could testify is dead. Killed by you."
"Not everyone." I remembered something from the memory. "Reeves said I'd gotten 'most' of them. Sarah, Helena, Drake, Marcus. But there were six soldiers total on that patrol. We've confirmed five dead. That leaves one."
"Private Marcus Thorne," Garrett said. "The one who went missing three weeks ago."
"He's not missing. He's hiding. He knows the shadow is hunting him." I looked at Garrett. "If we can find him before the shadow does…"
"He can testify," Garrett finished. "Confirm the princess's guilt."
"Assuming he's still alive," Lyons said.
"He is." I was certain, though I couldn't explain why. "The shadow hasn't found him yet. I'd know if it had. I'd have the memory."
"How do we find him before your shadow does?" Garrett asked.
I thought about it. About how the shadow hunted, how it tracked prey.
"It follows patterns," I said slowly. "Geographical patterns based on where people from that night might go. It's been working outward from the Wastes, hitting each victim in sequence based on proximity to where the curse originated."
"So Thorne would have run in the opposite direction," Garrett said. "Away from the Wastes, toward the inner kingdoms."
"Maybe. Or maybe…" A thought struck me. "The patrol that night. We had a rally point. A place we were supposed to regroup if we got separated. Every patrol has one."
"Do you remember where it was?"
I tried to access the memory. Pushed past the fog, past the gaps.
Nothing.
But in my head, the presence stirred. And whispered a location:
The old watchtower. North of where the prince died. Three miles.
"I know where it is," I said aloud. "The rally point. If Thorne is thinking like a soldier, if he's hoping someone will come looking for him, that's where he'd go."
"Or it's where your shadow is leading us," Lyons said. "Into a trap."
"Maybe," I admitted. "But it's our only lead. Our only chance to get a living witness."
Garrett looked at Lyons. Some silent communication passed between them.
"We're two days from where the princess's trail leads," Garrett said finally. "The rally point is on the way. We can check it."
"And if we find Thorne?" Lyons asked. "If he's alive and willing to testify?"
"Then we have proof," Garrett said. "Proof to take to the king. Proof that might save Aric and expose the princess for what she is."
"And if we don't find him?" Lyons pressed. "If it's a trap, or if he's already dead?"
Silence.
"Then we continue to the princess," I said. "And I confronted her. Force the truth out of her, one way or another."
"Even if it means letting your shadow kill her?" Lyons asked.
"Even then," I said quietly. "Because justice matters. Even twisted, monstrous justice is better than letting a murderer wear a crown."
We left the mill as darkness fell completely. Made camp in a clearing nearby, far enough from the body to escape the smell.
They staked me to a tree again, but this time Garrett added extra ropes. Extra precautions.
"Can't have what happened to Thomas happen again," he said quietly. Not accusatory. Just practical.
"I understand."
"Do you?" Garrett met my eyes. "Because if your shadow kills again, if it takes another one of us, Captain Lyons won't wait for explanations. He'll kill you where you stand."
"Would that kill the shadow too?"
"I don't know. No one knows. But Lyons is willing to find out."
I nodded. Couldn't blame him.
That night, bound tighter than ever, I didn't even try to sleep. Just watched my shadow on the ground, lit by firelight.
It seemed restless. Shifting slightly even when I stayed perfectly still.
Soon, it would separate again. Would slip free and go hunting.
And I had no way to stop it.