The Realm That Never Slept
Noctyrrh had not known daylight in three centuries.
The sky above the capital was a bruise that never healed—deep violet layered with black, stars burning cold and sharp like accusations that refused to fade. Shadows were not cast here; they ruled. They clung to spires and alleyways, curled at the feet of nobles, and whispered reminders of debts written in blood.
Lumi Reyes felt them long before she crossed the threshold of the Obsidian Court.
At twenty-two, she had already learned how to stand very still. Stillness was survival. It kept the truth from spilling out too fast, kept the pain from cresting too high. Her hands were folded before her, fingers pressed tight enough to ache, as if she could physically hold her curse in place.
Truth always wanted to be spoken.
The great doors groaned open. Torchlight bled across the black stone floor, and the court turned as one body to look at her. Power watched her openly here—measuring, weighing, wondering how much she would cost.
Lumi lifted her chin and stepped inside.
That was when she saw him.
Blake Crowe stood beside the throne, a dark silhouette sharpened into flesh and bone. Twenty-six, already marked by war and rule, he wore black armor etched with runes older than the kingdom itself. The Dreadsword rested at his side, its presence a pressure in the air—hungry, waiting.
The Dreadsword Prince.
Executioner of traitors. Heir to a cursed crown. The man every shadow bent toward.
When his gaze met hers, the world seemed to tighten.
Lumi's curse stirred instantly.
It was not his words—he had not spoken yet—but his stillness that betrayed him. The careful way his hand rested on the sword's hilt. The distance in his eyes. The truth rose inside her chest, sharp and insistent.
He is afraid.
The realization sent a dangerous flicker through her heart. Fear in a man like Blake Crowe was a secret powerful enough to kill.
The Shadow Regent rose from the throne, his voice echoing like stone grinding against stone. "Lumi Reyes. Truth Bearer of the Outer Realms. You are summoned to Noctyrrh to serve the crown."
Serve.
Such a gentle word for a sentence that rarely ended in freedom.
Blake spoke then, his voice low, steady, and wrapped in darkness. "And to be bound to me."
A murmur rippled through the court.
Lumi's breath caught. "Bound how, my prince?"
His eyes never left hers. "As my consort," he said. "In name only."
A lie.
Sanctioned. Necessary. Dangerous.
The truth surged inside Lumi, screaming against her ribs, demanding to be spoken. Fake bonds were still bonds in Noctyrrh, and every bond exacted a price.
She understood at once: refusal would mean death—or worse. Acceptance would mean stepping into a lie powerful enough to ruin them both.
Slowly, carefully, Lumi inclined her head.
"As you command," she said.
The shadows stirred, pleased.
Above them, the night pressed closer, eager to witness love turned weapon, and truth made currency once more.