Chapter 13- The unspoken Truth

"My lady, you go first. We will hold them off for as long as possible!"

"But—"

"Please... run!"

The last thing she saw was the shape of a werewolf—eyes feral, teeth bared—leaping toward her protector. She screamed his name, but the sound never reached her lips. Everything went black.

She jolted upright with a gasp.

Her chest heaved, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to her lungs like ice. Her vision blurred with confusion, her body aching with each breath. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. Panic rose like a tide in her throat until she registered the scent in the air—a curious blend of sandalwood and lavender, soft and unfamiliar.

She was not dead.

But she was not safe either.

The room was dimly lit, its stone walls lined with dark velvet curtains that muted the coldness of the surrounding castle. Gold and crimson embroidery hinted at nobility, yet it felt too quiet, too secret to be a royal chamber. An unfamiliar place in an even more unfamiliar land.

She tried to move and immediately winced—her limbs screamed in protest. Still, her instincts kicked in. She scanned the space for an exit, or at least a weapon.

A small silver knife lay beside a bowl of fruit on the carved wooden table near the wall. With slow, deliberate movement, she pulled herself from the bed and snatched the knife. Her breath was shallow, hands trembling, but her grip was firm. She retreated into the shadows beside the heavy drapes.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Light ones—unhurried, perhaps unaware.

Closer.

The door creaked open.

She didn't wait.

With a burst of energy, she lunged forward, holding the blade out in front of her.

"Stop right there!" she shouted, her voice hoarse.

The man before her halted instantly, raising both hands with open palms. He didn't look surprised. He looked... amused.

"Whoa, hey," he said, his voice calm, gentle even. "Easy. You're safe here."

"Where am I?" she demanded, her grip tightening.

"In a secure wing of the Chirosa Dominion," he said, slowly lowering one hand to his chest. "I'm Kael. Prince Kaelith Vaystriel."

"Prince?" Her brow furrowed. "but you are... a werewolf."

"Aren't you supposed to be human?" Kael said with a smirk, though he didn't move any closer. "But I'm a mix-blood. Half-vampire, half-werewolf. Not the enemy you think I am."

Her eyes flicked to the bracelet on his wrist—intricately crafted with sigils she recognized from her studies. "That emblem... it's from one of the noble houses in Myralis."

Kael raised an eyebrow. "You know your symbols. Impressive. Then you'd know that if I was part of those attacking you, I wouldn't be here explaining myself."

"Then who was it that saved me?" she whispered, her arm lowering slightly. "He looked... different. Like a shadow with golden eyes."

Kael's expression softened. "That would be my brother. Agnirasva."

Her eyes widened. "The Half-Blood Prince?"

He nodded. "The one who risked everything to bring you here." His voice dropped, laced with bitterness. "He's in prison now. Charged with the crime of saving you."

"What?" Her voice trembled. "Why?"

"You're a human with no official identification," Kael explained, tone clipped. "Worse, you appeared in vampire lands, wounded and unannounced. Even though the seal you held hints at temple authority, it's not enough. Not for our father."

"That's absurd," she said, fury replacing confusion. "Saving a life is no crime!"

"Not when you're anyone else," Kael muttered. "But Agira... he's different."

He moved toward the chair and sat down with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Our father has always looked for a reason to rid himself of Agira. Too powerful, too different, too unpredictable. He walks in the space between light and shadow. He's not like us... and that terrifies them." He talked to himself rather than her.

She lowered the knife completely now, her anger swirling into a mix of dread and guilt.

"So what happens next?"

Kael looked at her, a flicker of desperation in his otherwise calm gaze.

"We need proof of who you are. Something undeniable. Otherwise, Agira will bear the full weight of this kingdom's wrath—and believe me, that wrath is merciless."

She hesitated. "I... I came from the Temple of Sanctity. I was sent to investigate the whispers of a prophet... someone who might be the Shadow Heir."

"Then you're more important than we thought," Kael said, rising to his feet. "But it also means your life is more dangerous now. And Agira may have known that long before any of us."

She blinked at him. "Why would he risk himself for me?"

Kael's voice lowered, his eyes distant. "Because that's who he is. He sees through people. Through pain, through fear, through doubt. He saw something in you worth protecting. And he doesn't care about consequences when his mind is made up."

The girl sat down on the edge of the bed, stunned by the depth of the prince's sacrifice.

Kael stepped toward the door, pausing. "I'll try to speak to our father again. Maybe convince him to wait."

He glanced over his shoulder. "Get some rest. You'll need your strength. Tomorrow, everything may change."

Then he was gone. And she was left alone—yet again in a room that wasn't hers, not knowing who she could trust, except for the one who had already risked everything... for a stranger.

The room was darker now, but the shadows didn’t frighten her. She sat in silence, her eyes tracing the patterns carved into the wooden beams above her. The soft hum of enchantments still lingered faintly in the air—a sure sign that whoever had brought her here had taken great care to conceal her presence. The bedding smelled faintly of sandalwood, a fragrance meant to soothe. But peace was the last thing she felt.

She still saw the blood. Heard the screams. Aran… She flinched at the memory—his voice, his defiance, and the way he had leapt into the fray without hesitation.

"Please run!" he had said.

And she had run. Like a coward. Like a girl not fit for the title she'd been entrusted with.

She clenched her fists beneath the silk blanket. Her body still ached—wounds dull but persistent, like echoes of the chaos she'd barely survived. Her soul, however, was louder.

You have no time for guilt.

She took a slow breath and focused inward.

In the silence, her Tree of Light flickered deep within her—a glowing silhouette of golden light. Not yet fully bloomed. Not here, not where the balance was so fragile. But still, it pulsed.

Her strength, though sealed, was not gone.

She stood up slowly, one hand gripping the pendant that rested against her collarbone. A simple charm to anyone else. But she knew the truth—it held a fragment of her divine link, gifted to her by her master before she’d left the temple. A tether, both protective and binding.

Her fingers brushed the bracelet on her wrist—a thin band of silver engraved with forgotten symbols.

A token of her friend's birthright.

Of the truth, she had no luxury to speak aloud.

Not yet.

I must remain, Charvi, she thought. Not now.

The sound of a quiet knock on the door broke her thoughts.

Kael stepped in, slower than before, careful not to startle her. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes flickered immediately to the empty tray of food, the disturbed blankets, and the knife missing from the fruit basket.

“You’re awake,” he said calmly, stopping just outside her reach.

She didn’t respond. Her eyes watched him carefully.

“I told you before,” Kael continued, “you’re safe here. At least for now.”

He walked over slowly and sat at the far edge of the room, well away from her. He placed a folded cloak between them—a gesture, perhaps, of goodwill.

Charvi finally spoke.

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