Crowned In Shadows
Ch 1: The Last Mission
The moon loomed over the Alistair estate like a watchful eye, veiled behind restless clouds. Its pale glow stretched over stone battlements and tall iron gates, casting eerie shadows that crawled across the courtyard below. The air was heavy—damp, storm-soaked, laced with secrets.
Nevian Rune moved with the silence of death itself. Cloaked in black, every breath was measured, every step deliberate. His gaze swept over the estate’s defenses—the guards’ rotation, their slack posture, the flickering torches that barely pierced the night.
His target Lord Rath. A parasite in silk robes. Dealer in secrets, poisoner of peace. The Alistair family had ordered the hit—quiet, discreet, final. Nevian accepted, as he always did, without question.
Nevian Rune
(whispers to himself)
“The perfect night for a reckoning.”
The first roll of thunder echoed in the distance as he scaled the rear wall, shadows curling around him like loyal hounds. He slipped past the guards unnoticed. He’d memorized every inch of this place. Lord Rath was predictable. Gluttonous. And soon, dead.
He crouched beneath a window, his eyes narrowing. Inside, Rath snored—oblivious. A candle guttered weakly on a bedside table, casting a flickering halo around the man’s bloated form.
Nevian raised his crossbow. A clean shot. Swift. Painless, if undeserved.
Nevian Rune
“One breath… one shot…”
But before he could release, something shifted in the shadows. A presence—unmistakable. A figure emerged behind Rath, slender, cloaked, eyes glinting with silent warning.
Nevian froze. His instincts screamed—danger. But from who?
The figure raised a hand, signaling. A swift motion. Not an attack. A warning.
Nevian Rune
(quietly)
“Who are you?”
A sudden thud shattered the stillness. Rath’s eyes snapped open, his hand darting beneath the pillow.
Steel flashed. Nevian moved to fire, but pain exploded in his side. Rath’s blade had found flesh.
The crossbow clattered from Nevian’s grasp. He staggered, blood soaking his tunic, his vision spinning.
Lord Rath
“Thought you’d slither in like a shadow and take me out? You’re not the first, boy. But you’ll be the last.”
Nevian dropped to one knee, clutching his side. His pulse thundered in his ears. The room was tilting. Distant. Wrong.
Nevian Rune
(hoarse)
“This… wasn’t… right.”
He looked up, his gaze locking with the mysterious figure still watching from behind Rath’s bed. Unmoving. Observing.
Nevian Rune
(grimacing)
“You… knew…”
The figure said nothing. The world bled away around Nevian. Pain dulled. Sounds faded.
His body collapsed, blood pooling beneath him. Rath sneered, but Nevian barely saw it.
Darkness swept in—not like sleep, but a void.
In that place between breath and death, Nevian drifted. His body gone, but his mind still burning.
He floated in shadow, weightless, bodiless. Whispers curled around him. Fragments of memory. Echoes of pain. Regret. Purpose.
Something called to him—a voice that wasn’t a voice. Ancient. Knowing.
Mysterious Voice
“You have not fulfilled your fate, assassin.”
Nevian Rune
(struggling to think)
“Am I… dead?”
Mysterious Voice
“Not yet. Not completely.”
A light appeared. Distant. Faint as a dying star. But it pulsed—alive, insistent.
Nevian was drawn to it. Not by choice, but by something deeper than will. He reached, though he had no hands. He moved, though he had no body.
The light expanded, swallowing the shadows, revealing a realm of drifting forms and forgotten names.
Mysterious Voice
“You have been marked by shadow, but not claimed. You still serve a greater thread.”
Nevian Rune
(whispering)
“Why? Why me?”
Mysterious Voice
“Because betrayal has many faces. And yours has not yet seen them all.”
Suddenly, he was falling. Or rising. The void twisted, folding inward.
Nevian’s consciousness flared—then slammed into something else.
Breath returned. But not his own. A different heartbeat thudded in his ears. A different pain laced through fragile limbs.
He was not dead. But neither was he Nevian Rune anymore.
The last thing he felt before oblivion took him was a presence within the vessel—a soul dimmed, yet familiar.
And in that final moment, the shadow claimed him
Cherrie
Hey you, yes you—the awesome human reading this!
Cherrie
First of all, thank you. Whether you’re here for the plot, the chaos, or just hiding from responsibilities (relatable), I’m really glad you found this story.
Cherrie
Writing this has been a mix of heart and occasional dramatic staring into the void. So the fact that you’re here, reading these words, means the world to me.
Cherrie
I hope this story gives you something good—a little escape, a cool character to root for, or maybe just a reason to stay up past your bedtime (sorry, not sorry).
Cherrie
Feel free to say hi in the comments! I promise I don’t bite, unless I’m out of snacks.
Cherrie
Take care of yourself, drink some water, and remember…..
“‘The shadows aren’t so scary when you have a good story to walk through them with.”’
Cherrie
Your mildly chaotic, deeply grateful author.
Ch 2: The Prince’s Fall
The corridors of Alistair Castle stretched long and shadowed, cold stones echoing the faint whisper of footsteps. Outside, thick clouds pressed low against the battlements, casting the entire fortress in a dull, unyielding gray. Inside the north wing, the air was heavy—weighted with silence and unspoken tension.
The hallway stretched endlessly before him. Cold stone beneath threadbare boots. Shadows clinging to the walls like silent watchers.
Caspian Lucas Alistair(ml)
“One step. Then another. Keep moving, Caspian. Don’t fall behind. Don’t be noticed.”
The north wing of Alistair Castle was colder than the rest. Not just in temperature, but in spirit. It was where the forgotten rooms were. Where servants moved like ghosts. Where quiet was both expected and enforced.
Prince Valerian Alistair
(Voice sharp, echoing back.)
“Do you always walk that slowly, or is today special?”
Caspian Lucas Alistair(ml)
(He flinched, quickening his pace. His breath fogged the air.)
“No, brother. I’m coming.”
Prince Valerian didn’t wait. He never did. He was the embodiment of everything Caspian was not—tall, confident, adorned in tailored velvet and polished boots that never touched mud. Caspian trailed behind like a shadow that didn’t belong to anything.
Caspian Lucas Alistair(ml)
(Whispering to himself.)
He doesn’t even look back. No one ever does.
Outside the narrow windows, the sky hung low, heavy with clouds the color of bruises. The wind whistled through the stone, curling beneath the boy’s cloak like cold fingers. Winter had come early.
They arrived at the study. The heavy door groaned open under Valerian’s hand. Caspian followed, unnoticed, like smoke.
Inside, Queen Isabella sat behind her desk, posture rigid, expression carved from porcelain. Her gown shimmered like frost. Her gaze was colder.
Queen Isabella Alistair(ml mother)
(Coolly, without looking at the younger prince.)
“Prince Valerian. Your brother will observe your drills today. Ensure he learns something useful.”
Prince Valerian Alistair
(A smirk.)
“Of course, Mother. If he can keep from tripping over his own feet.”
Caspian stood at the edge of the room, unsure if he was meant to speak, or breathe, or simply vanish.
Caspian Lucas Alistair(ml)
(Softly.)
“I… I’ll stay out of the way.”
Queen Isabella Alistair(ml mother)
(Stern gaze flicking to him.)
“You always do.”
Her words struck harder than any slap. No anger. No love. Just indifference.
Prince Valerian Alistair
(Voice smooth like silk over steel.)
“Come, little ghost. You wouldn’t want to miss the fun.”
He moved toward the balcony, the high arched windows open to the biting wind. Beyond the stone railings, the courtyard sprawled below like a game board—knights, squires, horses, all moving in tight formation.
Caspian Lucas Alistair(ml)
(Dragging his feet forward, drawn by that fleeting hope—maybe today he’d be seen. Maybe today he’d matter.)
Maybe today I’ll be more than just… a mistake.
He stood beside Valerian, the wind tugging at his worn cloak. The scent of steel and horses drifted up from the courtyard. Below, the soldiers sparred, swords clashing like distant thunder.
Caspian Lucas Alistair(ml)
(Gasping.)
“Wait—!”
The stone beneath his boot gave way. His balance vanished. There was no railing. No hand to catch him. Just empty air and open sky.
The world spun violently. His heart surged up into his throat.
Caspian Lucas Alistair(ml)
(Screaming.)
“No—!”
Down past banners that flapped like wings. Past windows he once stared from. Past a family that never saw him.
The wind roared in his ears, then vanished in a sickening crunch.
Prince Valerian Alistair
(Above, unmoving. Eyes wide.)
Queen Isabella Alistair(ml mother)
(Still inside. Not rushing. Just standing.)
“…How unfortunate.”
Blood spread across the courtyard stone like spilled ink. Red against gray. Silence fell over the castle.
Cherrie
thank you for reading. If you’re enjoying the mystery, the betrayal, and the emotionally damaged royalty (because who doesn’t love those), go ahead and tap that like button and comment below! Tell me your theories. Or just say hi. I love hi’s. Hi’s make my day.
Cherrie
Until next time: stay sharp, trust no one, and definitely avoid balconies. They’ve got an agenda.
Cherrie
Your friendly neighborhood plot gremlin
Ch 3: The Exchange
A weightless silence. No sky. No ground. Just an endless, colorless void.
No breath. No pulse. Only thought. A thread of identity unraveling into the abyss.
Nevian Rune
(thinking)
Is this death?
Time meant nothing. He couldn’t remember when he had last felt… anything. His name echoed like a forgotten prayer in a cathedral long abandoned.
A pulse, dim and rhythmic, like the distant beat of a heart underwater. It tugged at him. Pulled him forward through the dark.
Nevian Rune
(thinking)
What is that?
The light was soft, not blinding—warm, almost… familiar. It wasn’t peace. It was purpose. Something surged within him, like static crackling over wet stone.
Sensation slammed into him like a storm tide.
Needles of pain stabbed through limbs that shouldn’t exist. A body. Heavy. Weak. Real.
He gasped, but no air came.
He tried to open his eyes—nothing. But sound returned in fragments: distant voices, boots scraping against stone, the low groan of iron hinges.
Unknown voice
??? (whispering)
“…Caspian…”
Nevian Rune
(thinking, sharply)
No.
The name hit like a blade drawn too quickly.
Nevian Rune
(thinking)
That’s not mine. That’s—
—them.
The traitors. The ones who betrayed him. The royal bloodline that paid for his silence with a knife in the back.
He could feel the press of fabric against his skin. The faint ache of old wounds. His chest rising—barely. A heart beating. A weak, fragile pulse. But a pulse nonetheless.
Nevian Rune
(thinking)
This… this isn’t my body.
He reached inward, groping through the haze. What he found horrified and fascinated him all at once.
A mirror soul. Damaged. Flickering. But still tethered to life.
Caspian Alistair. The prince. The boy too delicate for a world carved from steel and blood.
Nevian now wore his skin.
Caspian Lucas Alistair(ml)
(thinking)
I’m inside him.
This is not an accident.
He opened his eyes slowly. Light flooded his vision—dim, flickering torchlight on sterile white walls. The scent of iron, antiseptic, and lavender poultices.
His limbs wouldn’t move. Not yet. But he could feel them.
Caspian Lucas Alistair(ml)
(thinking)
So the prince lives… but just barely.
He lay still, ears straining. Healers whispered just beyond the curtain. The scrape of parchment, the rattle of glass vials. Voices murmured the name again.
Healer Marek
(whispering)
“…Caspian…”
That name—foreign, despised—was now his own disguise. His armor.
He studied the body. Broken ribs. Bruised skin. A head wound not yet healed. But breathing. Alive. A vessel.
Caspian Lucas Alistair(ml)
(thinking)
I could use this.
I will use this.
He wasn’t sure what force had granted him this second life. Fate? Magic? Vengeance made manifest?
Caspian Lucas Alistair(ml)
(thinking)
Nevian Rune is dead.
But this body… this name… is a key.
He felt a slow, cold smile twitch at the corner of his lips.
Caspian Lucas Alistair(ml)
(thinking)
I will gather their secrets, wear their masks, burn their lies from the inside out.
The voices faded as the healers stepped away. Silence fell again, but it was no longer empty.
He turned his head—barely—and stared at the ceiling.
Caspian Lucas Alistair(ml)
(thinking)
Caspian is their prince.
Let him be their shield.
Cherrie
Hey, I have made some changes from this chapter hope you guys like it. Just let me know if it’s nice or not.
Cherrie
Thank you for walking with me through the veil between life and death. Whether you’re navigating changes in your own life or trying to find your footing after a fall, remember—every ending has something hidden inside it. Sometimes… it’s the beginning of your rise. Keep going. 🌙
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