The morning after retrieving the sealed tome dawned unnaturally clear. Sunlight poured through the palace windows like molten gold, chasing away the usual mist that clung to Berakh's hills. Draven woke with the book's words etched in his mind: blood of the betrayer. It wasn't just a clue—it was a verdict. Someone in this very palace had inverted his mother's pendant, turning protection into poison.
He rose slowly, the curse's chill still present but muted. The whispers were faint now, almost petulant: You think knowledge will save you? It only sharpens the blade that waits.
Draven ignored them, summoning the system window.
[Host: Draven Eryndor]
[Level: 3]
[Points: 187]
[Mana Affinity: 38% – Awakening in progress]
[Curse: Shadow Veil – Vitality drain 19%. Origin clue acquired: Inverted Lightkeeper's Tear.]
[Active Quests: Survive the Week (Day 7/7 – Final Day), Prepare for Betrothal Announcement (New)]
Today was the day. The minor court gathering at midday would publicly confirm the betrothal terms. House Voss had been the rumored alliance, but original memories—and now fresh whispers from Liora—suggested something more layered. The king had kept details vague, even from his own son.
Liora entered with breakfast: warm oat porridge laced with honey and berries, black tea strong enough to cut through fog. Her hands trembled slightly as she set the tray.
"Your Highness," she said, voice hushed. "The herald announced it last night after you retired. The betrothal is not with Voss. It's with... Aetherion."
Draven paused mid-bite. Aetherion—the Kingdom of Eternal Skies. Floating islands suspended by ancient light magic, crystal spires that pierced clouds, a realm where gravity bowed to will. Berakh traded iron and steel for their ethereal wards and healing crystals. An alliance through marriage would bind two powers against Drakorian threats.
And the bride? Princess Seraphina Lioraelle, only daughter of King Valtor and Queen Elowen. Original Draven had met her once, years ago—at a summit before Isolde vanished. A fleeting memory: silver-white hair like moonlight on water, eyes the deep violet of twilight skies, a quiet grace that made the room feel smaller. She had spoken little, but her presence lingered like a melody half-remembered.
"She arrives at noon," Liora continued. "With a small retinue. The court is buzzing. Thorne says it's a 'desperate match'—that Aetherion sends their princess to a cursed prince because no one else wants her."
Draven set the spoon down. "Thorne says many things. Most are noise."
But inside, curiosity stirred. The original Draven had felt nothing for her—too buried in grief. Now, with a clear mind and a system fueling him, he wondered what kind of woman would agree to this.
Or if she had a choice at all.
The morning passed in preparation. Draven trained lightly—sword forms in the private courtyard, pushing Agility until sweat soaked his tunic. Each swing felt sharper, the curse's drag less insistent.
System Notification:
[Training Session: +18 points. Total: 205.]
[Sword Intent Level 2 → Level 3: Precision +8%, Minor predictive dodge unlocked.]
He bathed, dressed in formal crimson and black—Eryndor colors, silver embroidery catching light. The mirror showed a man transformed: sharp jaw, emerald eyes clearer, posture regal without effort. The curse marks on his chest—faint shadowy veins—were barely visible now.
Liora adjusted his collar. "You look... like the prince you were meant to be."
He met her eyes in the reflection. "Let's hope she sees that too."
The grand hall filled by noon. Nobles in silks and velvets lined the sides, murmurs rising like steam. King Eldric sat on the raised throne, crown heavy. Aurelisse beside him, smile perfect. Thorne and Elara watched from the front row, anticipation gleaming.
Doors swung open.
Herald's voice rang: "Her Royal Highness, Princess Seraphina Lioraelle of Aetherion, Daughter of the Eternal Skies, accompanied by her honor guard."
She entered alone—retinue trailing at respectful distance.
The hall quieted.
Seraphina was breathtaking. Hair like spun silver cascaded to her waist in gentle waves, catching light in prismatic shifts. Skin luminous, almost translucent, as if lit from within. Eyes violet-deep, flecked with starlight silver. Gown of pale azure silk flowed like liquid sky, embroidered with glowing runes that pulsed softly—light magic woven into fabric. A delicate circlet of crystal rested on her brow, and around her neck hung a thin chain with a small, clear gem that shimmered faintly.
She moved with effortless grace—feet barely seeming to touch the marble. No fear, no hesitation. Just quiet confidence.
Draven felt the room shift. Nobles stared. Thorne's smirk faltered. Even Aurelisse's smile tightened.
Seraphina stopped before the throne, curtsying deeply but without subservience.
"Your Majesty, King Eldric. Empress Aurelisse. Prince Draven." Her voice was melodic, soft yet carrying—wind through crystal chimes. "Aetherion sends greetings and accepts the proposed alliance."
Eldric rose. "Princess Seraphina. Welcome to Berakh. The bond between our kingdoms will bring lasting peace."
He gestured. "My son, Prince Draven Eryndor, your betrothed."
All eyes turned to Draven.
He stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Princess. It is an honor beyond words."
She lifted her gaze. Violet met emerald. For a heartbeat, time stretched.
In her eyes, he saw curiosity—genuine, unguarded. And something else. Recognition? Or pity for the "cursed prince"?
"The honor is shared," she replied softly. "Stories of Berakh's first prince reached even our floating citadels. Talent dimmed by shadow... yet here you stand, unbroken."
The words were polite, but layered. A question hidden in compliment.
Draven smiled faintly. "Shadows pass. Light returns."
A murmur rippled through the court. Thorne snorted softly.
Eldric cleared his throat. "The betrothal terms: Aetherion grants perpetual light-ward access along our borders. Berakh provides iron legions and steel for your sky-fleets. The marriage seals it—within the year."
Seraphina inclined her head. "Aetherion agrees. May our union bring strength to both realms."
The herald announced a private luncheon in the Rose Salon for the royals. Courtiers dispersed, buzzing.
In the salon, table set intimately. King Eldric at head. Aurelisse, Thorne, Elara. Draven and Seraphina opposite.
Servants served: crystal wine from Aetherion vineyards, roasted pheasant with sky-herbs that tasted of ozone and mint, fruits that glowed faintly.
Conversation began politely.
Eldric: "Princess, how fares King Valtor?"
Seraphina: "Father thrives. The floating isles hold against storms. He sends his regards—and a gift."
She produced a small box from her sleeve—crystal, etched with runes. Inside: a palm-sized orb of pure light, pulsing gently.
"For the palace wards," she explained. "To ease... burdens."
Her eyes flicked to Draven. The orb's light seemed to push back the curse's chill in his chest.
Draven accepted it. "Thank you. And Aetherion?"
"Stable," she said. "But Drakorian scouts test our skies. Your steel would help reinforce our anchors."
Thorne interjected. "Steel we have plenty. But a cursed prince as groom? Aetherion risks much."
Seraphina turned to him. "Risk is the price of alliance, Prince Thorne. And curses... can be lifted."
Her tone was calm, but steel beneath.
Thorne flushed. Elara giggled nervously.
Aurelisse smiled sweetly. "The princess speaks wisely. We look forward to the wedding preparations."
After luncheon, the group dispersed. Eldric pulled Draven aside.
"Son," he said quietly. "This match is vital. Seraphina is no pawn—she's heir to Aetherion's throne one day. Treat her with respect. And... try to heal."
Draven nodded. "I will, Father."
Alone in a garden alcove, Seraphina found him.
She approached quietly, gown whispering over grass.
"Prince Draven," she said. "May we speak privately?"
He gestured to a stone bench. They sat—distance respectful, but close enough for quiet words.
"You've changed," she observed. "The boy I met years ago was... lost. This man is awake."
Draven met her gaze. "Grief fades. Purpose returns."
She nodded slowly. "I know grief. My mother passed when I was young—light sickness from overchanneling. Father never recovered fully."
Silence comfortable.
"Why accept this?" he asked. "You could have refused."
Seraphina looked at the sky. "Duty. Alliance. And... curiosity. Rumors said the first prince was broken. I wanted to see for myself."
"And?"
"You intrigue me," she admitted. "Cursed, yet fighting. Weakened, yet stronger than they think."
Draven felt warmth—not from the orb, but something else. "And you? Floating princess in a grounded kingdom."
She smiled—small, genuine. "I adapt. Light magic thrives anywhere... if you let it."
She touched the orb in his hand. Their fingers brushed. A spark—not magic, but connection.
"The curse," she said softly. "I sense it. Shadow Veil?"
He nodded.
"I study inversions," she confessed. "In Aetherion, we have texts on light-shadow duality. If you wish... I can help research."
Draven's pulse quickened. Ally? Or more?
"I would welcome that," he said.
She rose. "Then we begin tomorrow. Walk the gardens at dawn?"
He stood. "I look forward to it."
She left, silver hair catching sunlight like a halo.
System Notification:
[New Character Bond: Seraphina Lioraelle – Fiancée (Cautious Interest → Mutual Curiosity). Potential High-Value Ally.]
[Hidden Quest Unlocked: Earn the Princess's Trust. Reward: 200 points + Light Magic Affinity Unlock.]
[Survive the Week: Complete! +200 points. Total: 405. Skill Unlock: Basic Light Sense (Passive – Detect light/shadow anomalies).]
Draven watched her go, the curse silent for the first time in years.
But in the shadows of the hall, Thorne watched too—eyes narrowed.