It is strange, if you really think about it. Strange that with all that is known about the royal family and their relationship with the former heir, the only individuals who did not visit Marcus when he was temporarily bedridden were his parents. At first, this seemed shocking, most of all to the palace staff who witnessed their arrival and quick departure. Yet once they were made to leave, all became clear.
The reason, despite their distance, that all the siblings decided to visit their older brother was simple. Respect. They respected him, but not for his intellect, nor for his uncanny ability to form alliances where others only found hostility. They respected the effort. The perseverance that refused to yield, even in quiet failure. And I suppose there are moments where effort does not betray.
The ward was silent now. The princes and princesses did not speak to one another. The reason for their reunion was asleep before them. At first, it would seem he slept peacefully, but those gathered knew better. His breathing was uneven. Sweat trickled down his temple. The faint tremor in his fingertips spoke of an inner storm. They all knew that he was not resting but wrestling with something far deeper.
Every one of them had experienced the awakening. Every one of them knew that Marcus was not simply dreaming. They knew what it meant to descend into that darkness and meet the self within it. What worried them was not that he was enduring the process, but what he might become once it was complete.
And now, I suppose, dear reader, I have delayed it long enough. You must be wondering what Marcus is experiencing. Let us look within and see what it means to stand at the edge of awakening.
If Marcus could describe his current state with one word, it would be boring.
He had expected terror, pain, or perhaps enlightenment. Instead, there was silence. Endless, suffocating silence. He remembered what Gemma had told him of the awakening, of how the descent into the mind begins with chaos and ends with clarity. Yet she never mentioned the tedium that filled the gap between.
It began violently. The first thing Marcus felt was the fall. A rapid descent into the oblivion of his own mind. Philosophers had long theorised that the time one takes to reach the bottom of oblivion is tied to the potential of the vessel undergoing the transformation. But due to the scarcity of those who survived and willingly described their experience, no one truly knew whether a longer fall meant greatness or ruin.
For Marcus, it was terrifying at first. The rush of air, the flicker of light, the endless darkness beneath him. He could feel his heartbeat pounding against his ribs, his breath caught between fear and fascination. But after a time, even fear began to dull. Three hours into the fall, the sensation became nothing more than monotony. His heart slowed. His breathing steadied. The wind lost its voice.
He simply wanted it to end.
Then came the fourth hour, and with it, the ground.
The impact he braced for never came. Instead, the final stretch of his descent was almost tender, as though the abyss itself cradled him. His feet met cold stone, or something like it. The surface was smooth and empty, an expanse that reflected neither light nor shadow. Marcus looked around, trying to make sense of the place, but his attention was quickly drawn elsewhere.
From the horizon, a figure approached. Slowly.
At first, it was shapeless. Then, as it drew near, it began to change. The figure became an elf, tall and pallid, its skin like marble. Then, with a shimmer, it transformed into a wolf the size of a house, its fur rippling like storm clouds. The creature's growl shook the ground, yet before Marcus could react, the wolf changed again. A chimera of shifting beasts, each head twisting and roaring as if desperate to escape the body that bound them.
Marcus took a step back, the air growing heavy with the scent of iron and smoke. Then, as suddenly as it had changed before, the shape condensed into a lion. This one was familiar, its form powerful yet regal. The mane was black as ink, its eyes blacker still. The lion stared at him in silence. And then it, too, began to fade.
What stood before Marcus now was a man.
At first, he thought it might be his father, but the eyes were wrong. Then perhaps his brother, yet the bearing was different. It was only when the figure's face shifted one final time that Marcus realised the truth.
He was staring at himself.
Or rather, at something that wore his face.
"You took far too long to recognise me," the figure said. Its voice was calm, but there was a strange echo in it, like two people speaking in perfect unison. "Although I should not be surprised, given what our mother has done to keep us apart."
Marcus froze. "Who—"
"Ah, no," the figure interrupted, raising a hand. "You get to ask three questions. Three questions each. That is the rule. But before we begin, I will introduce myself."
The figure took a step closer. "I am you. Or rather, the you that you have buried. The part that hides beneath all the pride and fear and duty. I am neither good nor evil. I simply am. I am the core of your awakening, and you will either make me your goal or make yourself mine."
It paused, then smiled. "Now, before you speak, tell me, in three words, what did you feel when you first sensed me?"
Marcus frowned. "Why are you so cryptic?"
"That," the figure said, its tone almost amused, "was a wasted question. I simply am. Now answer."
Marcus exhaled. "Fine. I felt pride, power, and something else I cannot yet grasp. But I know it is dangerous."
The other Marcus smiled then. It was not a pleasant smile. It was wide and cold and knowing, yet somehow it felt familiar. "You are correct. You feel danger because danger is what you truly understand. But that other feeling, the one you cannot name... that is what will define you."
Marcus felt his throat tighten. "And what is it?"
"That," said his alter, "is your second question."
Marcus hesitated, realising the trap too late. He lowered his gaze, unwilling to waste another.
Now, dear reader, I could tell you everything they said to each other. I could recount every riddle, every quiet revelation that passed between the two Marcuses in that shadowed place. But stories, like people, need their secrets. And besides, not all truths are ready to be told.
So let us leave Marcus there, in the depths of his own mind, speaking with the self he was never meant to meet.
Let us instead return to the ward above, where the others still waited.
The silence had grown heavier. The younger siblings exchanged brief glances, each wondering the same thing but none willing to voice it. The faint hum of magic filled the room, emanating from Marcus's body as if the air itself were trembling in anticipation.
Prince Mikail sat beside the window, his gaze fixed on his brother's still face. Princess Hannah stood near the door, arms folded, her expression somewhere between pride and concern. Even the youngest, little Evelyn, was silent, her small fingers clenched tightly around the hem of her dress.
None of them noticed when the light shifted. None of them saw the faint shimmer that rose from Marcus's hand. But they all felt it. A pulse. A single breath that seemed to move through every wall of the ward, across every corridor, through every vein of the palace itself.
Hudson, who had been standing watch outside, opened the door and froze. The air within was thick, but not with heat or pressure. It was something deeper. Something alive.
And at its center, Marcus stirred.
His fingers twitched again. His eyes flickered beneath closed lids. Then, for just a moment, he smiled.
The kind of smile one gives after learning a truth they cannot yet speak aloud.
Perhaps it was relief. Perhaps acceptance. Or perhaps it was the quiet understanding that something within him had shifted, and that nothing would ever be quite the same again.
The siblings said nothing. They did not need to. They simply watched as their eldest brother took his first breath as something new.
Outside, the palace clock struck noon, and the bells echoed through the halls.
It was a quiet sound, but somehow it felt like the world had changed.