The castle felt quieter than usual that night, as though even the stones held their breath. After their kiss in the secret garden, Aelion and Kealen had returned in silence, hearts beating with a rhythm that no words could match. The prince's lips still tingled with warmth, and Kealen's hand brushed his every so often as if to remind himself it had really happened.
They couldn't speak openly in the halls — not with watchful eyes of guards and whispering servants lurking everywhere. Yet the silence between them wasn't empty. It was alive, electric, heavy with the memory of their confession.
When Aelion reached his chamber, he paused at the door. "Stay," he whispered so softly only Kealen could hear.
Kealen hesitated, torn between duty and desire. He was supposed to guard outside the prince's door, not enter it. But the look in Aelion's eyes — uncertain, vulnerable, pleading — made his resolve crumble. With a nod, he stepped inside.
The chamber was dimly lit, moonlight pouring through the tall windows, painting silver patterns across the floor. Aelion closed the door behind them, his hand trembling. He leaned against it, staring at Kealen with an expression that mixed fear and longing.
"I… don't know what this means," Aelion whispered, clutching his own sleeve. "The prophecy says only one will stand, Kealen. If I let myself fall for you, am I dooming us both?"
Kealen stepped closer, his voice low but steady. "Prophecies are riddles, not chains. We don't know what it truly means. But I know this—" His hand brushed Aelion's cheek, rough calloused fingers against smooth royal skin. "I would rather stand with you, even if it costs me my life, than live in a world where I never touched you at all."
Aelion's breath hitched. The intensity in Kealen's gaze left no space for doubt. He pressed forward until their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling in the hush of the room. "Kealen…" His voice broke. "I don't want to lose you."
"You won't," Kealen murmured, his hand slipping behind Aelion's neck, pulling him close.
The kiss that followed was softer than before, unhurried yet filled with the promise of everything they couldn't say aloud. It wasn't just passion this time — it was devotion, a silent vow beneath the silver moonlight.
But the moment couldn't last forever. A sudden sound shattered the stillness — a fluttering of wings, followed by the sharp clatter of something striking the window. Both turned sharply. A raven, black as midnight, perched on the sill. Its eyes glowed faintly red, and a scroll was tied to its leg.
Aelion stepped back, startled. Kealen's instincts surged; he drew his dagger and moved protectively in front of the prince.
The bird tapped the glass insistently until Aelion approached. Hesitant, he opened the window, and the raven dropped the scroll onto his palm before vanishing into the night with a shriek.
The parchment was sealed with dark wax — a sigil of a broken crown. Aelion's face paled. "The Crest of the Exiled," he whispered. "My uncle's rebellion…"
Kealen frowned. "Open it."
Aelion broke the seal with trembling fingers. The letter inside was written in jagged script:
"The prophecy has begun. One prince, one protector. Only one will remain. Choose wisely, Aelion — or I will choose for you."
The letter fell from Aelion's hands, and he staggered back. "He knows. Kealen, he knows."
Kealen picked up the parchment, his jaw tight. "Then it's true. The prophecy is not some distant tale. It's happening now."
Fear surged through Aelion's chest, but Kealen caught his trembling hand. "Listen to me. Whatever this prophecy means, we will face it together. Do you hear me?"
Tears threatened to spill from Aelion's eyes. He nodded, clinging to Kealen's hand as though it were his lifeline. "Together."
Outside, the wind howled, rattling the windows as if the world itself warned of storms to come. But inside, beneath the trembling shadows of candlelight, prince and protector stood united — hearts bound by love, fate, and a prophecy that threatened to tear them apart.