The Forsaken Heir

It didn't take long for the dream to begin.

At first, it was nothing but shadows—swirling, shifting, almost formless. The darkness closed in around Lorian, thick and suffocating, yet somehow seductive, pulling him deeper, luring him further into the void. The sensation wasn't alarming; it felt more like a gentle, coaxing hand guiding him into the abyss, whispering that everything would be alright. A faint sound drifted in the air, distant and elusive, like a soft breath—a whisper, barely audible, beckoning him closer with each second.

The air grew warmer, stifling, oppressive. His skin prickled under the heat, and then, in the center of the swirling darkness, she appeared.

A woman—ethereal, hauntingly beautiful, and utterly captivating.

Her skin was pale, almost translucent in the dim light, giving her an otherworldly glow. Dark waves of hair cascaded around her, blending seamlessly into the shadows that cloaked her, making it hard to tell where she ended and the darkness began. Her eyes, glowing with a deep, smoldering crimson, locked onto Lorian's, filled with an intensity that both intrigued and terrified. Her lips, full and sensuous, curled into a smile that was equal parts alluring and dangerous, as though she knew a thousand secrets and held each one like a weapon.

Her movements were graceful yet predatory, as though every step, every shift, was calculated to ensnare. She glided forward, the darkness rippling in her wake, responding to her every motion. Small, elegantly curled horns jutted from her temples, just above her brows—subtle but unmistakable—a reminder of her demonic nature, a dangerous allure hidden beneath layers of beauty. Faintly glowing shackles adorned her wrists and ankles, bound by chains that faded into the shadows, their origins unseen. Though restrained, her presence radiated power—dangerous, untapped power.

"Lorian..." Her voice was a soft, seductive whisper, barely louder than the silence, yet it echoed in his mind. It was rich, smooth, intoxicating—the kind of voice that could make anyone forget their senses. "You can hear me... can't you?"

Lorian tried to speak, to respond, but his voice was trapped in his throat, his body frozen under her gaze. Her presence rendered him powerless, helpless beneath her crimson stare.

"I have been waiting..." she continued, her tone laced with anticipation, as though each word was something she had longed to say. "So long... waiting for someone like you, someone strong enough to free me."

A shiver ran down his spine, though the air around him was unbearably warm. She leaned closer, her movements slow, deliberate, her eyes never leaving his. "I am trapped... bound by these chains," she murmured, her voice dripping with desire, but beneath it, a shadowy edge hinted at something far more dangerous. "You have the power, Lorian... You can free me. All you need to do... is reach out."

She extended her hand, the tips of her long, elegant fingers just brushing the space before him. The shadows pulsed with her movements, swirling and twisting as though they were alive, reacting to her like a cloak of darkness that followed her every command.

"Free me..." she whispered, her crimson eyes glowing brighter, "and I will give you everything you desire."

The offer hung in the air, thick and heavy with temptation. Her voice sent shivers through him, despite the oppressive heat, as she leaned closer, her eyes locking onto his with predatory intensity. "Power... knowledge... freedom from your chains." Her eyes flickered, as though she could see straight into him—straight into the heart of his struggle, the part of him that fought against the funnel, the restrictions that bound his magic, that limited him. "I know what you want, Lorian... I can help you break free."

Her lips curved into a deeper smile, and the shadows around them began to swirl more rapidly. Slowly, a crown—formed entirely from the shifting darkness—materialized above her hand, dark tendrils weaving together into a shape so perfect it seemed tangible. It was regal, commanding, and unmistakably symbolic. The crown hovered between them, pulsing softly in time with her words.

"Everything you rightfully deserve..." she whispered, her gaze sharpening. "I know the desire that burns within you—to reclaim what was yours, to stand as the true heir to the Aeloria name. Elara was chosen, but I see the fire in you, Lorian. I will help you take back your crown... if you help me break these chains."

Lorian's breath quickened. The woman's words resonated deep within him, touching on every insecurity, every frustration, every yearning he had felt since his sister Elara was declared heir. She spoke to his deepest desire—to rise above the shadow his sister had cast over him, to reclaim what should have been his, to show the world his strength. The power she offered, the freedom she promised—it was intoxicating. He could almost feel it already—the strength, the control, the liberation that came with breaking those chains, both his and hers.

But then, his gaze flickered down to her wrists, where the glowing shackles remained. They pulsed faintly, the same crimson as her eyes, and for the first time, he noticed something strange. The shackles were not just glowing; they were alive, pulsing with a faint, eerie light. They throbbed in time with the shadows—a soft reminder that, while she offered freedom, she was still bound by something far greater.

"All you have to do..." she whispered, her voice softer, more alluring, "is free me."

Lorian's hand twitched, almost moving on its own, drawn by her words, by the promise of power. Her offer was so enticing, so simple. And yet...

The shadows around her began to shift, swirling faster, growing more frantic. The whispers grew louder, the seductive calm that had filled the air replaced by an edge of urgency. The woman's smile never faltered, but her eyes burned with a fierce intensity—something darker and more dangerous.

"I will find you, Lorian," she whispered, her voice echoing in the void as her form began to fade, crumbling into the swirling shadows. "I will find you... and when I do, you will free me."

And then, everything went black.

Lorian jerked awake, his heart pounding, his body covered in a cold sweat. The campfire had dimmed, casting long shadows over the tents, and the night was eerily quiet, save for the distant sound of the wind brushing against the ruins.

For a moment, he just sat there, trying to catch his breath. The image of the woman—her pale skin, her crimson eyes, her predatory smile—was burned into his mind. He could still hear her voice, smooth and intoxicating, echoing in his ears, her promises lingering like a haze over his thoughts.

"Free me..."

And the crown—the symbol of everything he desired—floated in his memory. It had seemed so real, so close. The promise she made, the power she offered, felt tangible, like he could almost reach out and grasp it.

But who was she? And what did she mean by freeing her?

Lorian rubbed his temples, his pulse still pounding. The dream had felt so real, as if it weren't just a figment of his imagination but something... more. The offer she made, the power she promised—it called to him, even now, after he had woken. He could still feel that pull, that dark, seductive allure.

Yet the chains around her wrists... they had glowed so brightly—a warning amidst the promise.

Whoever she was, whatever she was, one thing was certain—she was dangerous. And whatever was waiting in those ruins wasn't the only danger he'd face on this mission.

Lorian took a deep breath, shaking off the lingering remnants of the dream as best he could. But the woman's presence still lingered in the back of his mind, like a shadow he couldn't quite escape.

Lorian's heart was still racing when a hand shook his shoulder, pulling him out of the remnants of the unsettling dream.

"Lorian. Your turn on watch."

His eyes fluttered open, and the dim light of the campfire greeted him, casting long shadows across the tents. Ren crouched beside him, looking tired but awake enough to function. The warmth from the fire did little to chase away the chill that seemed to linger in Lorian's bones after that dream.

"Alright, I'm up," Lorian muttered, pushing himself into a sitting position and rubbing his face with both hands. He felt groggy, the remnants of the woman's voice still echoing in his head. I will find you... Her words hung in the back of his mind, but he shook them off as best he could. Now wasn't the time to dwell on it. He had a job to do.

Ren gave him a sympathetic nod before standing up. "Nothing much to report," he said with a yawn. "Quiet night so far. Enjoy the peace while it lasts."

"Yeah," Lorian replied, though his mind wasn't so sure about the peace lasting.

As Ren made his way back to his tent, Lorian stood and stretched his limbs. His muscles were still stiff from the day's work, but the cool night air helped sharpen his focus. Grabbing his cloak, he wrapped it around himself, trying to stave off the chill, and made his way toward his designated watch position on the outskirts of the camp.

The night had settled into a deep, still quiet. The soft crackle of the fire and the distant murmur of the researchers were the only sounds that filled the air. The ruins loomed ahead, silent and foreboding, their jagged edges casting dark silhouettes against the starry sky.

Lorian took his position and scanned the horizon. It was as quiet as Ren had said, but the dream had unsettled him. He couldn't shake the feeling that something—someone—was watching him, though there was nothing but empty shadows beyond the camp. The ruins, in particular, seemed to draw his attention, as if they were waiting for something to stir within them.

He sighed and adjusted his cloak, trying to clear his mind. It was just a dream. Nothing more. He needed to focus on the task at hand, not get distracted by phantom voices and strange visions.

The minutes stretched on, and Lorian's mind began to settle. His eyes scanned the perimeter, occasionally glancing at the distant ruins, but there was no sign of movement. Just the same quiet night, the same shadows creeping around the stones.

Still, as the memory of the dream began to fade, Lorian couldn't shake the woman's words. I will find you. The promise echoed in his mind, and his thoughts circled back to what she had offered him—the power, the crown, everything he had secretly longed for since the day Elara was chosen as heir.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to focus. Now wasn't the time for those thoughts. Now was the time to keep watch, to keep his mind on the mission. But the idea of breaking free from the funnel, of seizing what he deserved—it was too tantalizing to ignore completely.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Lorian stiffened, his hand instinctively moving toward his sword as he peered into the darkness. The movement had come from near the far edge of the camp, near the ruins. But after a moment, there was nothing—just the same eerie stillness.

"Get it together, Lorian," he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to stay calm.

Hours passed slowly, and the weight of the dream began to lessen as the cool night air cleared his head. Eventually, another cadet came to relieve him of his watch. Lorian nodded to them before heading back toward the fire.

The camp was quiet, with most of the squad already deep in sleep. Ren was snoring softly from his bedroll, and Sera had curled up near the fire, her face half-buried in her cloak. Lorian grabbed his blanket and settled back down, feeling the weight of exhaustion tugging at his limbs.

As he lay back and closed his eyes, the shadows of the ruins loomed in his thoughts once more, and though the dream had faded, the woman's voice still lingered at the edges of his consciousness.

I will find you...

But for now, there was silence.