The funeral had ended, but the smoke of burning pyres still clung to Kaelin's cloak as he walked through the dim corridors of his chamber. The torches burned low, their flames bending as if recoiling from him.
Only his valet trailed behind, silent and watchful, his shadow stretching long across the stones.
The crown prince's steps were steady, the echo of boots on marble sharp against the hush of night.
"The fifth prince lived."
It didn't come as a question, nor a confirmation.
"He's still drifting between life and death, my lord," Ryker replied. "Only the heavens know his fate."
The crown prince snickered.
"Fate?"
The conversation ended abruptly, caught mid-sentence. Midway down the long hallway, the crown prince faltered.
A shiver ran through him, bringing him to a halt.
"Ryker."
"My lord?" Ryker peeped forward.
Before Kaelin could utter another word, his pupils rolled back, his eyes bleaching into pure white. His body seized, stiff as if bound by invisible chains.
The valet lunged forward just in time to catch him as his knees buckled, his weight collapsing into the valet's arms.
Kaelin's lips parted, but no words came—only a strangled gasp as his chest rose and fell with ragged force. The air around him shifted, thickened, the torches flickering wildly as though an unseen hand fanned them.
Ryker's voice was low, urgent:
"Your Highness—stay with me."
But the prince's body shook harder, his head snapping back, his white eyes unblinking, staring at nothing.
Somewhere between life and something else.
And the corridor, for all its stone and fire, suddenly felt like he saw nothing.
The weight of the palace vanished. The valet's voice faded.
When Kaelin's eyes opened again, he was no longer in stone halls but standing in a vast field. The air was soft, scented with wildflowers, and grasses swayed in endless ripples under a golden sky. For a moment, the sight struck him with such piercing stillness that he almost forgot to breathe.
It reminded him of something—no, of someone.
A faint ache stirred in his chest.
Then—
"Kael."
The voice was quiet, but it carried through the meadow as though the earth itself whispered it.
Kaelin turned sharply.
And there he was.
Aiden.
The Fourth Prince stood a short distance away, his frame lit by the sunlight, his robes clean, unmarred by blood. His face held the softness of youth—eyes whole, bright, filled with a peace Kaelin had never seen on him in life. He widened his arms.
"You're in a bad mood, brother. You used to be happy to see me."
For a heartbeat, Kaelin could only stare, the breeze tugging at his cloak, caught in disbelief.
But when seconds began to tick along, Kaelin's breath broke into a ragged gasp as his composure shattered.
He rushed forward, the field blurring around him, and crashed into his brother's arms. Aiden chuckled, his arms locked around the crown prince's small frame, pulling him tight against his chest. Kaelin held him, clinging as though sheer force could anchor him back into the world.
"You're real?" Kaelin's voice cracked, raw and trembling, his face buried in his brother's shoulder. "Are you alive? Tell me you're alive…"
For a moment, he dared to believe. The warmth was there. The weight was there. His brother was there.
But then, a gentle hand rose—large fingers brushing through his hair, slow and careful, the way an elder might soothe a pouting child.
"I'm not alive," Aiden whispered, his tone neither harsh nor sorrowful, but quiet, matter-of-fact—like truth itself. "I only left a bit of my consciousness in you. That's why I'm here."
The words struck harder than any blade, and Kaelin's embrace only tightened, as if his arms could defy death itself.
The field swayed in a breeze that carried no sound. Flowers bent, grasses rippled, yet it all felt like a dream half-held together. Kaelin refused to let go, his arms locked tight around Aiden's body.
The fourth prince smiled faintly, eyes half-closed, as though savoring the simple act of being held.
"You've grown colder," Aiden murmured, his tone soft, teasing, almost like a whisper of the palace halls they once walked together.
Kaelin gave a brittle laugh, choking on it. "And you've grown too light. It's like I'm hugging air."
"I guess… that's what I am now," Aiden answered. He shifted, sitting back on the grass, plucking at a flower like any child would. Kaelin stumbled, falling face-flat. Aiden chuckled and tossed him the flower.
"I wish we could've played out here for real. No guards, no tutors, no titles. Just… us."
"You lived here, right?" Kaelin muttered, curling into a sitting stance.
"Yeah," Aiden pointed out, toward a point over the grassland. "Over there... with my mother. I miss her."
Kaelin sat beside him, silent for a moment, watching his brother's hands twist a stem. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
Aiden glanced at him and sighed.
"You're down."
"You died!" Kaelin burst out. "You're dead! I have lost you."
His sudden outburst had Aiden blinking rapidly before breaking into laughter.
Kaelin frowned.
"It's not a matter to laugh about!"
Aiden laughed so hard he tripped. Cleaning invisible tears from his eyes, he sighed.
"You said I—"
"Huh?" The crown prince's frown deepened.
"You didn't say 'Kaelin has lost you.' You said, 'I have lost you.'"
"...and?"
"This is the first time you have expressed yourself... your real self."
The crown prince was left speechless and somewhat embarrassed. He looked away from Aiden, focusing his gaze on the grasslands.
"I guess you loved me that much, huh?" Aiden peeped at him, but the little prince brushed him off.
Chuckling again, Aiden leaned back.
"Thank you—for playing the role of my little brother."
Kaelin swallowed hard, his throat aching. He glanced back and then saw it—the edges of Aiden's form blurring, thinning, his colors paling like smoke tugged by the wind.
"You're..."
"It's nothing. Ignore it," Aiden smiled.
He forced a nod, although his eyes watered.
"Aah," Aiden inched closer. "I guess you can still learn after death. I didn't expect soulbinders to be capable of tears."
Kaelin's breath hitched. His head snapped toward his brother, eyes wide, as though struck by lightning.
"What… did you just say?" His voice was a whisper, sharp and trembling.
Aiden only smiled faintly, watching him with quiet amusement. "You heard me."
"That's—" Kaelin's throat locked. He wanted to deny it, to crush the word before it could bloom, but nothing came. His chest tightened, panic pounding in his veins.
Aiden tilted his head, his expression infuriatingly calm. "You really were planning to hide it from me. I must say, Kael, I'm hurt."
Kaelin's lips parted. "You—" He forced the word out like it was burning him. "How did you find out?"
That earned him laughter—low, warm, too real. Aiden shook his head, wiping at the corner of his eye as though Kaelin had just delivered the best joke in years.
"Of course I know," he said, tone playful but laced with something Kaelin couldn't name. "I'm smart, after all. I love history more than the battleground. You... you're history itself."
Kaelin only stared at him, saying nothing, doing nothing.
Aiden leaned back into the grass, his grin soft, unbothered, as though he had simply pointed out the obvious.
"You don't bind people, you bind their soul."
Seeing the crown prince staring silently, he grinned.
"I was right! That explains why your bound record refuses to show in the book."
"I don't have a bound record," Kaelin cut in.
"Aah?" Aiden raised a brow. "You do. That's why… part of me stayed behind. Because you wouldn't let go."
Kaelin's words failed him. His lips trembled.
"I'm probably your first," Aiden added.
Kaelin's eyes widened, his pulse pounding, his hand trembling.
But Aiden only laughed softly, brushing it away with a careless wave of his hand. "Ah, don't tense up like that. Forget it. Too serious."
Kaelin blinked, still stunned, but his brother's tone had already shifted, light and teasing, as though nothing heavy had ever been spoken.
"Do you remember," Aiden leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "the time you nearly choked to death on sweet buns?"
Kaelin froze, his cheeks flushing hot. "Shut up."
"You turned red like a tomato—eyes bulging, arms flailing—Mother thought it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen!"
"That never happened to Kaelin!" Kaelin snapped, though his voice cracked. His fists trembled as he swiped at his eyes, furious with himself.
"Oh, it did," Aiden grinned wide, tapping Kaelin's forehead with a finger. "I had to thump your back three times before you spat it out. You cried for the rest of the day. Loudly."
"Kaelin did not!" Kaelin's voice broke into a half-yell, half-sob. He swung his fists wildly, striking Aiden's shoulder, chest, anything he could reach. "Kaelin did not! Stop laughing!"
"Back to the accent, I see," Aiden only burst out laughing harder, his arms loose at his sides, making no move to defend himself. "You're still the same. Always pouting, always so easy to tease."
"Kael...."
"Ah!" Aiden cut him off, with a finger press to his forehead. "I'm already dead. It doesn't hurt to express yourself. Leave Kaelin out."
"I hate you!" Kaelin cried, his blows growing weaker even as his tears streamed faster. "I hate you for leaving me!"
But his fists faltered, and instead of striking, he clutched at Aiden's robe, burying his wet face into it like a child desperate not to be seen. His shoulders shook, every word cracking apart.
"I hate you… I hate you…"
Aiden's laughter softened, fading into something gentler. He wrapped his arms around Kaelin again, rocking him slightly, his voice a quiet murmur over the crown of his brother's head.
"No, you don't."
Silence stretched across the vast land; only the sound of Kaelin's muffled sobs remained between them. Aiden's hand lingered in his brother's hair, combing through it gently, like he had done when they were children hiding from tutors.
Then, quietly, he asked:
"What do you want, Kael?"
The words were simple, but they landed heavy. Too heavy.
Kaelin stiffened. He felt the warmth of his brother's arms dimming, like the sunlight slipping away, like the field itself thinning. No—no, not yet. Not now.
"I…" His throat closed, his tears choking him. "I want—"
He bit down on his lip so hard it bled, but when the words burst out, they came in a flood.
"Tomorrow we'll go to the market," he demanded, his voice breaking. "Just the two of us—no guards, no servants. And then… and then the day after, we'll visit the old ruins by the cliff. You promised we would!"
Aiden's form shimmered faintly, like smoke tugged by the wind. His smile was tender, but quiet.
"And after that," Kaelin pressed on, gripping his brother's sleeves with desperate fists, "we'll play in the field again, like when we were little. You'll chase me, and I'll win this time—I swear I will! And we'll…" His breath hitched, his words drowning in tears. "We'll do it all, Aiden. All of it. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…"
His voice broke completely, his head bowing against Aiden's chest. "Just… don't go. Please don't go.
For a long moment, Aiden said nothing. He only held Kaelin tighter, his fading hands pressing gently against the boy who clung to him as if sheer will could bind him to the earth.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft—so soft Kaelin almost wished he hadn't heard it.
"…I wish I could."
"Stay with me," Kaelin whispered. His voice cracked into a sob. "Just a little longer. Please…"
Aiden smiled, already half-translucent, his features dissolving into light. "Then… let's pretend, just for now, that I'm still here. Tell me something, Kael. Anything."
Kaelin choked on a laugh, messy and raw. "I… I hated how you always beat me in sparring."
Aiden chuckled, faint as wind. "I let you win half the time."
"Liar," Kaelin muttered, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Fine, I lied." His brother's voice grew softer. "But doesn't that mean you owe me one?"
Kaelin tried to answer, but the words broke in his throat. When he blinked, only the grass bent before him, empty, the sound of Aiden's laughter already gone.
The crown prince's shoulders shook. He staggered, head bowed low, his voice tearing out raw, breaking the silence of the meadow.
"Come back… Aiden—come back!!"
But there was nothing left. Only the flowers, swaying in wind that carried no reply.
"Please..."
TBC...