Night fell silently over the Landon Estate, cloaking its vast halls in shadows and stillness. The moon cast a pale glow through the arched windows of Caveen's chamber, where the prince sat reclined, lost in thought, wine untouched in his goblet.
The door creaked open.
He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
"Your Highness," came the soft, sultry voice of Celestine. She stepped in quietly, the hem of her lavender gown brushing the floor, an intricately carved aromatic diffuser in hand.
"I brought you something," she said sweetly, her voice laced with unspoken intentions. "A special scent. It's calming... good for easing the mind."
Caveen raised a brow, unimpressed but unbothered.
"Leave it. Then leave."
Celestine smiled and instead placed the diffuser on the side table, its faint glow filling the room. The scent that followed was subtle—sweet at first, almost nostalgic—but behind it danced something... foreign. Something wrong.
He didn't move. But his senses sharpened.
Celestine stepped closer. "You look tense, Caveen. Allow me to massage your shoulders."
He stood from his seat at once, jaw tightening. "I said, leave."
But Celestine didn't budge. "You're overworked. Let me take care of you, even just tonight."
Her voice seemed distant now, muffled, as a haze crept through his mind. His eyelids fluttered. His limbs heavy.
The scent.
His heart pounded.
Laced with enchantment.
Caveen clenched his fists but stumbled backward, catching himself on the bedpost. His vision blurred—then sharpened—and when he opened his eyes again, his breath caught.
"Lysandra…?" he whispered, stunned.
Standing before him, where Celestine had been, was Lysandra—her raven hair cascading down her shoulders, her eyes soft with longing.
"Yes, my prince," said the enchantress in disguise.
He staggered toward her, lips parting in wonder. "You came to me…"
She nodded, and Caveen pulled her into his arms, their lips meeting in a kiss heavy with craving and ache. He kissed her as he had longed to, hands trembling as they brushed over her waist, her shoulders. Their passion swelled—unbuttoning, unzipping—until her dress began to fall from her shoulders.
But then—
A sharp pain pierced his skull like lightning.
His eyes snapped open.
And what he saw made his blood turn cold.
Not Lysandra.
Celestine.
On his lap, half-undressed, lips swollen from stolen kisses.
He shoved her off him so hard she hit the ground with a cry. The room pulsed with raw fury as his aura surged in a violent wave, shattering the glassware, shaking the chandelier overhead.
"You dare," Caveen growled, his voice darker than thunder.
Celestine cowered, her hand over her mouth in terror.
"An illusion spell?!" His eyes glowed crimson, fangs sharpening. "You made me believe you were her! Do you have any idea what you've done?!"
"C-Caveen… I-I just wanted—"
"Get. Out," he hissed.
He stepped forward, his fury barely restrained, shadows clawing up the walls behind him like death itself. "Pack your things and leave my estate before sunrise. If I see you tomorrow..."
His eyes blazed.
"I will kill you."
Celestine gasped, scrambling to her feet, dress still loose, tears streaming down her face. She rushed to the door without another word, nearly tripping as she ran.
The door slammed shut behind her.
Caveen stood in the silence, breathing hard, fists clenched at his sides.
He had been violated—betrayed.
But more than that…
He realized something even more terrifying.
That even under enchantment… it was Lysandra he saw.
It was her his soul cried out for.
And no magic could fake that.
—
Before dawn, a carriage creaked through the gates of the Landon Estate. Celestine and Lady Jane left without a word, carrying nothing but shame, humiliation, and a shattered illusion of power.
The prince they tried to control had awakened.
And he would burn anyone who stood between him and the woman he loved.
The grand marble steps of the Council Fortress echoed with Lady Jane's sharp heels, her face pale but composed beneath the veil of her aristocratic pride. The storm in her heart churned violently, but her voice remained cold and firm as she addressed the High Circle seated before her.
She bowed low before the assembly of cloaked figures — the ruling heads of the Council, their faces hidden in shadows, their presence as ancient as the kingdom itself.
"I bring grave news," she began, lifting her chin. "The engagement between my daughter, Celestine, and Prince Caveen has collapsed."
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
High Chancellor Mordaine narrowed his eyes. "Collapsed? He accepted her."
"He did," Lady Jane replied, voice trembling with restrained bitterness, "Until last night. My daughter… attempted to offer herself to him. She tried to deepen their bond. He saw it as betrayal. Violence ensued."
"And the prince?" another councilor asked.
"Enraged beyond reason. He expelled Celestine from the Landon Estate. We barely left with our lives."
Silence followed.
Then Mordaine spoke again. "This changes everything."
Lady Jane hesitated, then added in a quiet, venom-laced voice, "But he said something… in his fury. Words I believe we must heed."
The council leaned in.
"He said—he will only marry Lysandra nothing else."
A long pause filled the air, heavy as iron.
At last, the High Enchantress Veora spoke. "Lysandra… the Moonwell girl?"
Lady Jane's lips tightened. "Yes. She has bewitched him. If she lives, Celestine will never win his heart."
"And if she dies," murmured Veora, "we regain control over the prince."
"Exactly," Lady Jane whispered.
The council deliberated, each mind working with precision and cruelty.
"She is not bonded to the prince through any vow," said Mordaine. "And the Moonwell estate is under our jurisdiction. A quiet execution—cloaked as an illness or accident—would raise no alarm."
"But the Moonwell elders—"
"We will deal with them," Veora cut in. "It's time we remind the Moonwells that even ancient magic cannot shield them from the Council's will."
Mordaine leaned forward, his tone final. "Send a decree. At first light, Lysandra Moonwell is to be executed. Her death will be silent, unseen. The prince will be informed after it is done."
Lady Jane exhaled, hiding her smile.
At last, her daughter's path to the throne was cleared.
Or so she believed.