The Cursed of Destiny: The One Who Waited

Somewhere deep in the dark, something rose again.

A shape made of whispers and dust. A shadow that had once worn a crown of ash.

Its voice unfurled like smoke:

"I sense him. He's returned."

The darkness shivered with delight.

"It's going to be a good hunt."

As the world above turned quietly, greed bloomed like rot inside the hearts of men. And with it, the darkness found breath again.

For a while, peace returned to the ruined lands.

But destiny—no, fate—never rested for long.

In the main house, walls were rebuilt, wounds stitched closed. But not all hearts healed.

Whispers grew in corners, jealousy sharpening into resolve.

Kael had appeared from nowhere. And too many were willing to bow to the nameless man who had no history and eyes like ancient stars.

Some could not bear it.

And so a plan was set into motion.

It began with a letter.

A harmless envelope slid beneath Lyra's door at dawn. The message inside meant nothing—gentle pleasantries, maybe even a child's scribble.

But the paper carried something more.

A soft chemical, nearly invisible. Inhaled with a single breath.

Lyra blinked, her vision softening. Her limbs, light.

A maid appeared in the hallway and spoke gently to her, pointing down the western corridor. Her voice was soft, kind, familiar.

Lyra nodded, not knowing why. And began to walk.

No one stopped her. She looked as if she were going somewhere important. As if she belonged.

Until hours passed, and she was nowhere to be found.

Panic bloomed in the house like wildfire.

Kael felt it before anyone.

A wrongness. A tremor beneath his ribs.

He was already running before anyone else noticed. Into the forest, past the boundaries of the old wards, tracing a pull that lived not in logic—but in the echo of something older.

The path led to a cave.

It was damp, ancient, full of breathless shadows. And something inside stirred.

Kael stepped into the dark—and the cave shivered around him.

A figure formed from nothingness. Cloaked in black, eyes like coals, it bowed low.

"Welcome back, my Master," it said.

Kael froze.

And then—

A single image blazed behind his eyes:

A hill drowned in fire.

He stood atop it, a blade in each hand.

Below him, thousands knelt.

And he was smiling.

The vision vanished.

He staggered. His voice cracked.

"What… what is this?"

The shadow only grinned.

"You came, just as I knew you would. Still drawn to the girl. Always her."

Kael didn't reply. His eyes scanned every crevice of the cave.

Where is Lyra?

But the shadow stepped in front of him, hungry to speak.

"How goes the infiltration? Do they trust you now? I imagine they do—after all, it was you who sent the army to destroy them... and you who saved them."

Behind them, others entered.

Auren. A few elders. Their eyes wide, hearts thudding.

They had heard.

The cave rang with silence.

Kael turned slowly. He didn't look guilty.

But he didn't look surprised either.

A flicker of doubt moved through the room like a slow wave.

The shadow leaned in, whispering to Kael again:

"Don't you remember? You built the first army. You led them to war. And then you vanished."

Kael's fists clenched.

"I didn't—"

But he didn't finish. Because a part of him wasn't sure anymore.

They found no sign of Lyra in the cave.

Kael emerged first, the wind catching his cloak. His eyes were empty, searching.

Far off, he sensed her again. A heartbeat, fragile and distant—like a star flickering.

He ran.

He found her near the outer courtyard, collapsed against the roots of an old tree, eyes closed but unharmed. Whatever spell had held her had broken.

He lifted her gently. She stirred in his arms. And for a moment, the world grew quiet again.

Back in the house, tension fractured the air.

The elders gathered. Voices rose and crashed. Accusations spun from shadow.

"He's one of them—he always was!"

"This whole time… he's been playing both sides."

But not all believed it.

Auren stood at the center, hands clenched behind his back. He said nothing.

Then someone whispered, almost afraid to speak:

"He built the first army… didn't he?"

No one answered.

But no one denied it.

Auren finally looked up.

"We will hold a council at dawn," he said. "We must decide what happens next."

That night, Kael sat beneath the stars alone.

His blade lay beside him, untouched. His hands, stained with dust.

He watched the moon crawl slowly across the sky and whispered:

"Why did you call me that… Master?"

There was no answer.

But deep within, something stirred again—old and vast.

A locked door creaked open just a little.

He touched his forehead, remembering the burning hill, the thousands kneeling… the smile that wasn't truly his.

And far beyond the forest, something stirred in return.

A memory that hadn't yet found him.

Or worse—one that had.