The earth groaned beneath them.
Lysandra could feel it in her bones—a disturbance rippling outward, reaching far beyond the cavern. Whatever the prisoner had set in motion, it was no longer contained here.
Jael still hadn't moved. His golden eyes stayed locked on the newly freed heir, his knuckles white against the hilt of his sword.
"You planned this," Jael said, his voice dangerously calm.
The heir tilted his head slightly, as if considering the accusation. "Of course I did. Did you think centuries of imprisonment would leave me without a plan?"
Lysandra's fingers itched to reach for her dagger. But she knew—instinctively—that no blade would be enough.
"You used us," she said, voice tight. "You let us believe you were just a victim of this curse—"
"I was a victim." The heir's silver gaze snapped to hers. "But do not mistake that for helplessness."
A new pulse of magic sent cracks splintering up the walls. The cavern could no longer contain him.
Jael stepped forward, eyes dark with restrained fury. "Then tell me. Who do you intend to strike first?"
The heir smiled. A slow, knowing smile.
"The one who took my name."
Lysandra's breath hitched. The realization hit her like ice.
Jael's father.
The Price of Freedom
Jael was silent.
Lysandra knew that silence well—the same one that had settled over him when he first spoke about the curse, the same one that came when he was weighing duty against anger.
The prisoner—the true heir—had been erased from history. His name stripped, his legacy stolen.
And the one who had claimed it all was none other than the current King of Vareth.
Jael's father.
Lysandra stepped closer to him, her voice low. "Jael… what do we do?"
Jael didn't answer.
He stood still as stone, his expression unreadable. But in the flickering torchlight, Lysandra saw it—the tiniest tremor in his hand.
The heir watched them with amusement.
"Ah," he said softly. "So you understand now."
Jael's jaw clenched. "You think I'll just let you waltz into the capital and start a war?"
The heir let out a low chuckle. "Oh, prince, there has already been a war. You've simply been blind to it."
A sudden gust of power burst outward, sending loose stones scattering. The force of it drove Lysandra and Jael back, making Lysandra stumble.
The heir turned.
Lysandra felt the shift before she even saw it—the air bending around him, dark mist curling at his feet. He was about to leave.
Jael moved.
His blade flashed, cutting through the mist toward the heir's back.
But before steel could meet flesh, shadows swallowed him whole.
The prisoner vanished.
Jael's sword struck empty air.
A moment of silence.
Then, from the darkness beyond, a whisper:
"I will see you soon, little prince."
And with that—he was gone.
A Kingdom Unraveling
Lysandra's breath came hard and fast. The cavern was crumbling around them, the magic that had once held the heir now unraveling everything it touched.
Jael stood frozen, his blade still raised. His face was a storm of emotions—rage, realization, and something dangerously close to dread.
Lysandra forced herself to move. "Jael, we need to go—"
A deafening crack split through the air as a massive chunk of rock collapsed from the ceiling.
Jael snapped out of it. He grabbed Lysandra's wrist, pulling her toward the tunnel. "Move!"
The two of them sprinted through the passage as the cavern collapsed behind them. Dust and debris filled the air, choking the light from the torches.
By the time they finally stumbled into the open air, the entrance behind them had caved in completely.
Lysandra doubled over, gasping for breath. The cold night wind was sharp against her skin, but she welcomed it.
Jael didn't speak.
He stood there, staring out over the dark horizon, his shoulders rigid.
Lysandra swallowed hard. "Jael…"
His grip on his sword tightened.
"He's going after my father," Jael murmured, barely above a whisper.
Lysandra hesitated. "What are you going to do?"
Jael closed his eyes. When he opened them, the hesitation was gone.
"We're going to the capital."