Bound To The Cursed Prince

The moon hung low and swollen, veiled in mist, a quiet omen I tried not to read too deeply into.

I moved swiftly through the shadowed corridor, the hem of my cloak skimming the floor, breath held tight in my throat. The guards would be changing shifts soon. If we were caught, I 'd be locked in my chambers for a month.

Kia emerged from behind the tapestry near the old armor gallery, a stolen lantern flickering in her grip.

I smiled at her."The east gate's unguarded," Kia whispered. "The drunk one finally passed out".

And the priest?" I asked, glancing over her shoulder.

"Waiting beneath the old bell tower". She replied.

We didn't speak again. Words would only make the fear louder.

We slipped through servant halls and forgotten stairwells, through a secret tunnel beneath the stables I hadn't used since I was ten. The air grew damp, the stone cold. Somewhere above, bells tolled the twelfth hour.

When we emerged beneath the ruins of the abandoned chapel, my heart stopped.

A cloaked figure waited beneath the old bell tower, its spire cracked, its shadow long across the dead grass. Crows scattered as they approached.

The priest turned. His eyes were milk-white, his skin wrinkled as tree bark.

"You came," he rasped, voice like wind scraping bone. "Just as she dreamed."

"Who dreamed?" I asked, gripping the edge of her cloak.

"The one who bore the flame before you. The sister of Auron. She left behind the truth ,sealed until the stars turned red."

He reached inside his cloak and produced a weathered, leather-bound tome. The cover bore no title ,only the symbol of a three-winged dove encased in eclipse.

"This book holds your answers, Princess. Names. Powers. Failures. Prophecy. Even the truth about the one sleeping below."

"Daemon," I whispered.

The priest nodded.

"But knowledge has weight. And this book will change how you see everyone , especially yourself."

He pressed it into my hands. Cold leather. Heavy.

"You'll find more than prophecy within," he said. "You'll find his final warning. And yours."

"What do you mean?"

But the priest was already backing into the dark, as if melting into it.

"Read before dawn. Choose before eclipse."

Then he was gone.

I turned to Kia, the lantern's flame trembling between them.

"We go back now?" Kia asked, eyes wide.

I clutched the book to her chest.

"No," she said. "We find a place to read. Tonight, the truth won't wait."

Kia's house was hidden deep in the lower city, a crooked little structure nestled between a lantern-maker's shop and an abandoned mill. By the time we slipped through the narrow alleys and shut the door behind them, my pulse hadn't slowed.

The room smelled of old parchment, dried herbs, and candle wax. A kettle hissed faintly in the corner.

I greeted her family, they looked like such a happy family. Her younger sister was so happy to see a princess.

Upstairs," Kia whispered. "There's a loft. No windows, no one can see or hear us."

still cradling the book as though it might shatter if she breathed wrong.

We climbed into a small attic room, lit by a single enchanted stone that pulsed with soft blue light. I knelt before the low table, set the book down, and unfastened its clasp.

The moment I opened it, the air changed ,warmer, heavier , as though something ancient had awakened.

The first page bore no title. Only a line written in crimson ink:

"This is not a history. It is a warning."

🌑 THE ORIGIN OF THE CURSE

I flipped to the first chapter, my eyes scanning the faded script.

"It began with a broken vow."

Centuries ago, my ancestor, King Velarion, sought to wield eternal power. He entered into a pact with Nythera, the Weaver of Shadows ,promising her loyalty, his soul… and his firstborn son.

But Velarion betrayed her. Instead of giving his son, he offered Nythera's sacred relic to the gods of light in exchange for immortality. In return, Nythera unleashed a blood curse upon his bloodline.

"Your sons shall be mighty, but never whole.

Their gifts will become graves.

And when the seventh moon bleeds, your line shall either end… or consume the world."

My fingers trembled on the page.

---

⚔️ THE CURSED PRINCES — THEIR POWERS AND FAILURES

Each page revealed a prince. A life. A tragedy.

1. Malric – Flamebinding

Tried to destroy the curse with holy fire.

Failed: Burned alive from within.

2. Vaelen – Shadowweaving

Attempted to trap his cursed self in a mirror.

Failed: Soul lost in the mirror. Whispers still echo.

3. Kaelrin – Bloodcraft

Tried to pass the curse onto an unborn child.

Failed: Child was stillborn; Kaelrin went mad.

4. Dravon – Immortality

Bound his soul to the land to outlive the curse.

Failed: Madness consumed him. Still lives in shadow.

5. Sylas – Empathic Fire

Sought redemption through love.

Failed: Wife died in childbirth; palace burned.

6. Lucien – Silent Flame

Tried to erase his identity through meditation.

Failed: Ashes remain, still warm.

7. Auron – Mindfreezing/Ice Will

Tried to kill all prophecy-born girls.

Failed: Slain by his own sister.

My breath caught at the final entry.

--

🕯️ THE FINAL PRINCE: DAEMON

"He was different. Sealed away before the curse could take full root.

His power — Soulbinding — can tether his essence to another. One soul, two fates."

He is still alive. Sleeping. Waiting.

---

🩸 THE CONSEQUENCES IF THE FINAL CURSE IS NOT BROKEN

I turned the page and gasped. The script here had turned red, etched as if written in blood itself.

"If Daemon is lost… the curse is no longer blood-bound. It will spill beyond the royal line — infecting every soul born under the moon."

"Day and night will collapse into one — an eternal eclipse."

"Love will die. Magic will rot. Dreams will become weapons."

"Nythera will not need to return — for the curse will live in all things."

At the bottom of the page, a prophecy was scrawled in a woman's delicate handwriting:

"Only the one born beneath the seventh blood moon can rewrite the curse — not break it.

She must love without chains. Bind without fear.

And either fall with him... or save them both."

I sat back, tears stinging her eyes. The room was silent except for the quiet hiss of the kettle below.

"It's him," she whispered. "Daemon. He's not the curse. He's the key."

Kia sat across from her, pale and wide-eyed.

"So what now?"

My hands trembled as she closed the book.

"Now… I find him. Before the eclipse does."