Shadow Prince

The moment the vision ends, William snaps back to reality, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The dim glow of the library's floating lanterns sways overhead, their light flickering as if disturbed by something unseen.

His hands tremble against the leather-bound surface of the book still clutched in his grasp. The sigil on its cover—once dull and unassuming—now faintly pulses with light, as if alive.

The room is silent, but the sensation of something watching him still lingers.

Then—a footstep.

Soft, measured, deliberate.

Someone is coming.

William's heart jolts, instinct kicking in before thought. His fingers snap the book shut, and in a single, fluid motion, he slides it behind his back, pressing it close against his cloak.

A shadow stretches near the entrance of the library.

Then—a familiar voice.

"There you are! I was wondering where you'd run off to."

Mary.

William exhales, tension easing—but only slightly.

His twin sister strides into the dimly lit library with her usual effortless confidence, hands resting casually on her hips. Her blonde hair is tied into a loose braid, stray strands falling into her face. She's dressed in a simple tunic and fitted trousers—practical clothes, meant for someone who spends more time training with a sword than attending royal functions.

She eyes him with curiosity, her brown gaze flicking over him like she's assessing a sparring opponent.

"Why are you hiding?" she asks, tilting her head.

William forces himself to relax, schooling his features into calm neutrality.

"I'm not hiding."

Mary raises an eyebrow. "Really? Because you look like someone who just got caught sneaking sweets before dinner."

William shrugs, shifting his weight just enough to keep the book hidden behind him.

"I just wanted some quiet. Unlike you, I don't spend my mornings swinging a sword at people."

Mary snorts. "That's your loss."

She steps further into the library, glancing around, her eyes skimming over the bookshelves. If she notices the dust-covered alcove where William found the book, she doesn't comment on it.

But she does narrow her gaze at him again, like she's sensing something off.

"You're acting weird," she says flatly. "Did Jackson say something to you again?"

William shakes his head, a little too quickly. "No. Just thinking."

Mary watches him closely, her brow furrowing, before she drops it.

"Well, stop thinking so much," she says with a grin, nudging his shoulder. "Come train with me before your lessons tomorrow. You're going to need all the help you can get once they start shoving magic into your head."

William huffs a quiet laugh, more to appease her than anything else.

"I'll think about it."

"That means no."

"That means I'll think about it," he corrects.

Mary rolls her eyes but doesn't push further. Instead, she stretches her arms over her head and turns toward the door.

"Fine, be boring. I'll be outside if you change your mind."

William watches her go, waiting until her footsteps fade down the corridor before he dares to exhale.

His grip on the book tightens.

That was too close.

His fingers tighten around the leather-bound book, still faintly cool against his palm. The sigil on its cover, though no longer glowing, feels different. Like it's waiting.

He glances around the library. Empty. Silent.

Slowly, he shifts the book back into view, holding it in both hands. His pulse is steady now, but his thoughts churn.

"What the hell was that vision?"

He had expected another pull, another wave of freezing air dragging him into that otherworldly place. But nothing comes.

No voice.

No whispers.

No visions.

Just silence.

His thumb brushes over the sigil. The leather feels ordinary now, no longer humming with unnatural energy. For a fleeting moment, he wonders if he imagined the whole thing.

But no.

He remembers the red sky. The ruins. The faceless figure.

And worst of all… he remembers the voice.

"You are not meant to be here."

William inhales sharply and, without further hesitation, snaps the book shut.

This isn't something he should examine here. The library, vast as it is, is still a public place. Someone could return at any moment—a librarian, a noble, a scholar—and if they saw him with a book that shouldn't exist, questions would follow.

And William wasn't sure he had the answers.

Better to take it back to his room.

With careful movements, he tucks the book beneath his cloak, pressing it against his side where it won't be easily seen. His heartbeat is steady, controlled. He knows how to move unnoticed.

The shadows of the library remain still as he makes his way toward the door.

By the time William reaches the safety of his quarters, the morning sun is higher, casting pale light through his curtained windows. He locks the door behind him out of instinct—not that anyone ever bothered entering his room uninvited.

Still. It feels necessary.

His room is plain for a prince's chamber—a four-poster bed, a modest wooden desk, a single bookshelf filled with history texts and old academy materials. A sword rests on the stand near his dresser, untouched for weeks.

William wastes no time. He moves toward the desk, setting the book down carefully, watching it like it might move on its own.

Nothing happens.

No flickering sigil. No whispers.

Just… a book.

Slowly, he opens it again.

Nothing.

The pages inside are aged but unmarked. No text, no diagrams, no signs of whatever force had triggered his vision.

He flips through them, his fingers moving faster now, eyes scanning for any sign of meaning.

Still nothing.

"Did it just… turn blank?"

He frowns, flipping back to the first page, then to the last. Every sheet is empty, and yet… it doesn't feel empty.

There's something about it. Something unseen, lingering beneath the surface.

"Why show me the vision the first time, but not now?"

His frustration builds, but he forces himself to stay patient. There has to be a reason.

Maybe the book only responds to something specific.

Maybe the vision was a warning—a one-time glimpse into something he wasn't supposed to see.

Or maybe… he just doesn't know how to read it yet.

William leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly.

"I need to figure this out."

William exhales slowly, staring at the book in front of him. Blank pages. No vision. No answers.

Only more questions.

His fingers tap against the desk, his mind racing with possibilities, suspicions, and uncertainties. The book had reacted to him before—had dragged him somewhere else, forced him to see things that weren't supposed to be seen. But now, it lay still, as if it had never done anything at all.

His frustration builds, but he knows better than to let it get the better of him.

"Not now."

He pushes the book aside, running a hand through his dark hair. Tomorrow was too important to let himself get distracted by some cryptic artifact. His Aether training begins.

And for the first time in his life, people would actually expect something of him.

He couldn't afford to be exhausted from chasing mysteries the night before.

Carefully, he picks up the book and moves toward his wardrobe.

There's a hidden compartment at the bottom—a hollowed space beneath the wooden paneling, meant for keeping valuables out of sight. He had never used it for anything important before. But now… it seemed like the best option.

Lifting the panel, he places the book inside, making sure it's nestled flat against the hidden space.

Then—the air shifts.

The lantern on his desk flickers.

A whisper of movement brushes the corners of his vision, and for the briefest moment, the shadows in his room seem to lengthen.

His breath stills.

Slowly, his gaze drifts toward the walls. His window is shut, his door locked—there's no draft, no source of movement—and yet, the flickering candlelight casts strange, unfamiliar shapes against the stone walls.

The darkness around the room isn't still.

It shifts. Trembles. Pulses.

Like it's breathing.

A cold sensation prickles down his spine.

William stares at the wardrobe. The book is inside. Hidden. Sealed away.

And yet—the shadows around him still move.

"No."

He blinks.

The movement stops. The room is still once more. The light stabilizes, casting the familiar soft glow against the stone walls.

For a long moment, he doesn't move.

He listens.

Nothing.

His fingers twitch at his sides before he lets out a slow breath. It was nothing.

"I'm tired. That's all."

Still, his muscles remain coiled, like a wild instinct is whispering for him to stay alert.

He steps away from the wardrobe, pressing the wooden panel back into place with more force than necessary. He secures the lock, ensuring the book is sealed inside.

The weight in his chest doesn't leave.

But he forces himself to ignore it.

William locks the wardrobe and steps away, rolling his shoulders to shake off the tension that had built up. The room feels quieter now, like the book had been an unspoken presence pressing down on him.

He stretches, trying to shift his focus.

"Tomorrow, I learn magic."

It should excite him. It should be something to look forward to.

And yet…

All he can think about is the way the vision's voice had sounded.

"You are not meant to be here, not yet."

The words loop in his mind, even as he lays down for the night, pulling his blanket over him.

Even as exhaustion settles in, even as sleep slowly claims him, his thoughts refuse to quiet.

And in the final moments before sleep takes him—

The shadows at the corners of his room shift.

Not quickly. Not unnaturally.

Just… enough.

As if something is still watching.

Waiting.