The scream cut through the palace like a blade.
Aren Vale woke up with his hand already on his dagger.
The stone floor was cold beneath his bare feet as he rushed into the hallway. Torches flickered wildly, throwing long shadows that twisted like monsters along the walls. Somewhere ahead, boots thundered. Steel clashed.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Aren ran.
He turned the corner—and froze.
Blood spread across the white marble floor, dark and thick. At the center of it lay Prince Kael, his older brother, the golden heir to the throne. His eyes were open, staring at nothing. A sword was buried deep in his chest.
"No…" Aren whispered.
Kael was supposed to be untouchable. Protected. Chosen.
Aren dropped beside him, hands shaking. "Kael… I'm here. Stay with me."
The prince did not move.
Footsteps echoed behind Aren.
He turned just as armored guards stormed into the hall. Their captain raised his sword and pointed it straight at Aren.
"There he is," the captain said coldly. "Prince Aren Vale. Arrest him for the murder of the Crown Prince."
Aren's heart slammed against his ribs.
"What?" His voice broke. "I didn't— I just found him!"
The guards did not listen.
Before they could move, another voice spoke from the shadows.
"Stand down."
A tall figure stepped into the torchlight. Lady Seraphine, the royal advisor. Her silver eyes flicked from Kael's body to Aren's blood-stained hands. For a moment, something unreadable crossed her face.
Then she smiled.
"Take him," she said softly. "He is guilty."
Aren stared at her.
Seraphine had raised them after their parents died. She had sworn loyalty to the royal bloodline. She had promised to protect them.
"Why?" Aren whispered.
Her smile did not reach her eyes. "Because the throne needs a stronger ruler."
Chains snapped around Aren's wrists.
The guards dragged him away as flames suddenly roared through the far end of the corridor. Smoke filled the air. Alarms rang.
The palace was burning.
As Aren was pulled down the steps and into the chaos, a sharp pain exploded in his chest. He gasped and collapsed to his knees.
Something was burning inside him.
Hot. Violent. Alive.
A voice echoed in his mind—ancient and furious.
You are not meant to kneel.
Fire burst from Aren's skin.
The guards screamed as the chains melted away.
Aren stood, eyes glowing red-gold, breathing hard. The flames obeyed him, curling around his arms like living things.
He looked back at the palace.
His brother was dead.
He had been betrayed.
And the kingdom wanted him executed.
Aren clenched his fists.
"Then I'll burn the crown down," he said.
And vanished into the night.