Ch-7: The Masked Encounter

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Ch-7: The Masked Encounter 🎭🔥

The kingdom of Elaron had changed since Elion’s disappearance. The eldest prince, lost to the world, was now nothing but a story whispered in the corridors of the palace.

Meanwhile, Riven, the second prince, had risen in beauty and charm beyond all expectations. His shy demeanor had vanished, replaced by a confident, irresistible aura. Nobles and royals alike whispered of his unmatched grace.

And soon, the kingdom celebrated a grand wedding — Riven was to marry Prince Lucian, heir to the neighboring realm of Valoria. The halls glittered with gold, laughter, and the scent of roses. Riven’s smile dazzled the crowd, but behind his sparkling eyes, a secret hunger burned — a shadow of the past, a memory of what had been taken from him.

Far from the golden hall, in the bustling streets, whispers of a strange, lost prince reached his ears — a boy matching the tales of the eldest prince, wandering the lands with beauty unlike any other.

Riven’s heart, twisted by envy and greed, couldn’t resist. That evening, disguised in a dark cloak, he sneaked into the city. His sharp eyes sought the lost prince — unaware that fate had led Elion to this very place.

Elion, wandering freely but still child-like in demeanor, spotted the masked figure approaching. His heart fluttered with curiosity, unaware that this figure carried a blade of betrayal in his eyes.

> “Who… who are you?” Elion asked, his innocent voice trembling.

Riven’s lips curved into a cold smile beneath the mask. “A traveler… seeking a friend.”

Elion stepped closer, his golden hair glinting in the fading sun. “You look… familiar.”

Riven’s eyes narrowed. So beautiful… still… His envy surged, the years of resentment boiling over. “You don’t remember me, do you?” he whispered, voice low and dangerous.

Elion shook his head, the curse clouding every memory. “No… I don’t.”

The masked prince’s hand shot out suddenly, grabbing Elion by the wrist. Panic flared in Elion’s eyes. “Let go!” he shouted.

Riven pushed him hard — too hard. Elion stumbled, trying to regain balance, but in a cruel twist of fate, both of them fell down into the dark river beneath the bridge. The current swept them into shadows, the cold water choking and biting.

Elion flailed, terrified, struggling against the current, but the child-like innocence in him made him unpredictable — and strangely, the river seemed to pause, as if recognizing the cursed soul.

Riven fought too, his strength fueled by rage and jealousy. Yet the water tossed them violently, and for a terrifying moment, the two princes were swallowed by the black currents together.

When they finally emerged, gasping on the riverbank, both soaked and shivering, something in Elion’s eyes had changed. A flicker of recognition — not full memory, but instinct.

> “You… you tried to…” Elion stammered, confused. “Why?”

Riven, chest heaving, looked at him — and for the first time, doubt pierced his envy. Why am I hurting him? Why does he still… shine like before?

Elion, still trembling, smiled faintly, unaware of the danger he had survived. “I… I’m okay. The water… it’s funny.”

But deep inside, the curse whispered — memories buried under the lake, the betrayal, the brothers’ jealousy — slowly awakening, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And Riven, standing there, realized something terrifying: the lost prince of Elaron — the one he thought broken — might one day return, stronger, smarter, and more dangerous than both of them combined.

The game of beauty, envy, and revenge had just begun.

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