Bound by the Dark Prince

The night was thick with silence, the kind that carried hidden whispers beneath its veil. The torches along the fortress walls flickered, casting eerie shadows on the cold stone. Evelyn stood on the balcony of her chambers, staring into the darkness beyond the castle grounds. The weight of the day's training still lingered in her muscles, but her mind refused to rest.

She had touched something deep inside herself today—something powerful, something dangerous. The Bloodborn warriors had seen it too. Some with awe, others with hesitation. She had taken her first real step into their world, and there was no turning back now.

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

"Enter," she called.

The door creaked open, and Lysara stepped in, her cloak draped over her shoulders. Her violet eyes gleamed in the dim light. "You should rest. Tomorrow will be even more grueling."

Evelyn sighed, turning to face her. "I can't sleep."

Lysara tilted her head. "Because of your power?"

"Because of what it means." Evelyn ran a hand through her hair. "The more I use it, the more I feel... different. As if I'm becoming something else."

Lysara studied her for a moment. "Power does not change who you are, Evelyn. It reveals who you've always been."

Evelyn swallowed, unsure if that was comforting or terrifying. Before she could respond, a sudden chill swept through the room. The torches flickered violently, and a shadow moved beyond the balcony.

Lysara's expression hardened. "Stay here."

She drew her dagger and stepped toward the balcony with the silent grace of a predator. Evelyn, however, refused to be left behind. She followed, her senses sharp, her pulse steady.

The moment they stepped outside, the air shifted. A presence lurked in the darkness.

Then, without warning, a figure lunged from the shadows.

Lysara moved fast, her dagger flashing, but the assassin was faster. The blade missed by inches as the intruder twisted midair, landing between them in a crouch. Clad in black, their face was hidden beneath a hood, but Evelyn caught the gleam of silver in their hand—a poisoned dagger.

The assassin struck first, a blur of movement aiming for Evelyn's throat.

Instinct took over.

A pulse of energy erupted from her, faster than thought. The assassin's blade stopped mere inches from her skin, held in place by an unseen force. Their body trembled as if caught in an invisible grip.

Evelyn's eyes widened. She hadn't even moved.

Lysara didn't waste the opportunity. In a flash, she drove her dagger into the assassin's side. A muffled gasp escaped the attacker's lips as they crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath them.

Evelyn staggered back, staring at her trembling hands. The power she had summoned—it had come effortlessly. Without thought, without control.

Lysara knelt beside the dying assassin, pulling back their hood to reveal a young man's face, pale and slack with death. She searched his cloak, retrieving a small insignia carved into a silver coin.

She cursed under her breath. "The Council's reach is growing bolder."

Evelyn forced herself to breathe. "They sent an assassin?"

Lysara stood, eyes dark. "Not just any assassin. This was a Shadowblade."

Evelyn frowned. "Meaning?"

Lysara met her gaze. "Meaning they know you're a threat."

The weight of her words settled heavily between them. The Council had taken notice. And if tonight was any indication, they would not stop until Evelyn was dead.

But as she looked down at the body, at the power still humming beneath her skin, a cold certainty filled her.

Let them come.