Part 1: The Game of Eyes and Echoes
Rain whispered on the crystal domes of the Imperial Palace, muting the world in melancholy silver. Prince Kaelrith Elion stared at the parchment spread across his war table, but his thoughts kept drifting—not to politics, not to battle formations—but to a girl with starlight in her veins.
Seraphina Valen.
The scroll she'd left behind hummed with arcane resonance, faint but unmistakable. He'd hidden it behind wards only he could unravel, though a voice in his head whispered that she had wanted him to find it.
She was baiting him. Tempting him. Challenging the frozen blood in his veins to stir.
His fingers brushed the edge of the encrypted spell one more time.
A scrying glyph activated—unintentionally.
And for a brief second, her image shimmered in the air.
She was brushing her hair before a mirror, lips pursed in concentration, unaware she was being watched.
Kaelrith flinched and killed the spell.
He hadn't meant to see that.
Or had he?
Part 2: Dreams and Lies
That night, the prince dreamed for the first time in years.
He stood beneath a bleeding sky. Starfire rained down on ruined thrones. And she stood at the heart of it—Seraphina—wrapped in celestial armor, her hand outstretched toward him.
"Come back," she said.
"I never left," he whispered.
Their fingers almost touched, and then—
He woke, breathless.
A servant knocked. "Your Highness, your presence is required in the war chamber."
Kaelrith sat up slowly.
He had once been taught that dreams were nothing more than echoes of the mind. But this one… felt like prophecy.
And worse, it felt like hope.
Part 3: The Second Meeting
Five days passed before their paths crossed again—at the Imperial Star Garden, during the Moonfire Festival.
Kaelrith descended the marble steps in full regalia: obsidian robes etched with starlit constellations. His guards formed a discreet wall behind him, but he dismissed them with a gesture.
He felt her before he saw her.
Seraphina stood beside the Star Lotus pond, watching the glowing flowers pulse with each falling note of the moon-harp in the background.
"You shouldn't be here," he said softly.
She smiled without turning. "And yet here I am."
"You left something behind," he added.
"Did I?" She turned now, eyes like frozen twilight. "Or did you steal something you weren't meant to see?"
Kaelrith stepped closer. "The spell on that scroll—it's celestial. Ancient. Forbidden."
"It's not the only thing that's forbidden here, Kaelrith."
The sound of his name from her lips made the night feel warmer. He reached into his cloak, pulled out the sealed scroll, and held it out.
She didn't take it.
Instead, she whispered, "Do you ever wonder what your life would've been like if you hadn't been cursed to forget how to feel?"
He stiffened. "You call it a curse. I call it survival."
She took a step forward.
"Then let me teach you what survival costs."
Part 4: The Almost Kiss
Lightning cracked across the distant sky. Rain began to fall—gentle at first, then wild.
Nobles fled to shelter, but Kaelrith and Seraphina remained—silent and soaked, their eyes locked.
He reached out. His hand hovered over her cheek, trembling. Not from fear. From something far more dangerous.
Desire.
"I shouldn't," he murmured.
"You won't," she agreed.
But she didn't move away.
He leaned in. Slowly. Too slowly.
And then—he stopped.
Their foreheads touched.
Their lips didn't.
It was a kiss that never happened.
And yet, it screamed louder than any they might have shared.
"Goodnight, Kaelrith," she said as she turned away.
He stood there, alone, lips inches from hers, heart pounding like war drums.
Part 5: The First Crack in the Mask
After she left, Kaelrith returned to his private quarters and shattered a crystal decanter with his bare hand.
Blood dripped onto the floor.
The Rune of Suppression on his chest pulsed—warning, reacting, threatening to erase this emotion, this longing, this ache.
But for once, he didn't suppress it.
He let it burn.
And it terrified him.
Because if Seraphina could make him feel again…
What else could she make him remember?
Who was he before the Rune? Before the throne? Before the endless silence?
He looked into the mirror.
And for the first time, the executioner's smile didn't come.
Only a prince's sorrow did.
End of Chapter 3: "A Kiss That Never Happened"