The storm had passed, but its echoes lingered in the air.
Lucien sat at the edge of the balcony, high above the Ravencroft gardens, the night wind ruffling through his hair. The scent of rain still clung to the stones, mingling with the distant fragrance of night-blooming roses. It was peaceful—unnaturally so. As if the world itself was holding its breath.
He had barely noticed the soft footsteps behind him until a warm presence joined him at his side.
Eiran.
No armor. No swords. Just a loose white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up. The prince looked nothing like a warrior tonight.
He looked human.
"You weren't in the library," Eiran murmured.
"I needed air."
Eiran nodded and sat beside him, close—but not touching.
For a while, they said nothing.
The stars above scattered like shattered glass across velvet skies, and for once, Lucien didn't feel like they were watching him with judgment.
Just… watching.
"Do you ever miss it?" Eiran asked softly.
Lucien tilted his head. "Miss what?"
"Your other world."
Lucien thought about it. The constant buzz of notifications, cheap coffee, neon signs, his cramped apartment. The loneliness. The anonymity.
"No," he said. "Not really."
Eiran turned toward him, his profile catching the moonlight.
"Not even the family you left behind?"
Lucien looked down at his hands.
"There wasn't much to leave behind."
Silence again.
Eiran's voice dropped lower. "Then why risk everything for this world? For me?"
Lucien's chest tightened.
It was a question he had avoided answering too directly. Until now.
He turned to face Eiran fully, eyes searching his.
"I came here expecting to play a role. To survive. But you… you were never just a character. You were real. And the more I saw that, the more I—"
He stopped.
Swallowed.
The prince's eyes didn't waver.
"The more you what?"
Lucien let out a shaky breath. "The more I wanted to protect you. Not just because I knew what was coming… but because I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."
It was out there now.
No more hiding.
Eiran didn't speak right away. He just stared at Lucien, as if searching for something behind his words.
And then, very slowly, he reached out.
His fingers brushed against Lucien's hand—tentative, unsure, but not accidental.
Lucien didn't pull away.
"I don't know what this is," Eiran said softly. "Or what it's supposed to be."
"Me neither."
"But I know this…" Eiran leaned closer, until their foreheads nearly touched. "You make me feel something I thought I'd buried a long time ago."
Lucien's heart thundered.
"And what's that?"
Eiran smiled faintly. "Hope."
Their breath mingled in the space between them, and for a brief, beautiful second, time felt suspended.
Lucien closed the distance—only slightly, their lips brushing like a question, an unspoken maybe.
It wasn't desperate. It wasn't a promise.
Just… possibility.
When they pulled back, neither of them spoke. The moment didn't need words.
The truth was already there, soft and undeniable.
---
Later that night, Lucien lay in bed, eyes wide open, heart still racing.
The feeling of Eiran's hand in his lingered like warmth on his skin.
But peace was short-lived.
Because just before dawn, a raven came to his window—a black-eyed bird with a crimson ribbon tied to its leg.
Lucien untied the note and unfolded it.
> "You may have changed your lines, but the ending remains the same. The crown will fall, and love will not save you."
No signature. Just a wax seal—burnt with the mark of the Obsidian Court.
Lucien stared at it, pulse pounding.
Whoever they were, they knew.
And they were coming.
---
To be continued…