Cursed Mark: Rise of the Forgotten Prince

A Night of Uncertainty

The palace corridors were eerily silent as I walked away from the grand hall, the echoes of the banquet still lingering in my mind. The flickering torches along the walls cast long, wavering shadows, distorting reality in the dim light.

Crown Prince Adrian's words clung to me like an omen.

"Do not forget your place."

A warning. A threat.

But I had no place in the chains they had forged for me.

The air outside was crisp as I stepped onto the palace balcony, letting the cold night wind wash over me. The city stretched far beyond the horizon, the flickering lanterns resembling scattered stars.

I took a slow breath.

For the first time in years, I was playing this dangerous game as an equal, not a discarded pawn.

Yet, the path ahead remained uncertain.

---

A Moonlit Encounter

"You left the banquet early, Prince Kael."

The voice was soft yet firm, carrying an air of quiet authority.

I turned my head slightly, already aware of who stood behind me.

Eleanor Vael.

The divine heir. The untouchable saintess.

She stood beneath the glow of the moon, her silver hair shimmering like threads of light. Her emerald eyes were unreadable, a veil of calm concealing her thoughts.

She was no ordinary noble. No mere lady of the court.

She was one of the few who held true power.

I leaned slightly against the balcony railing. "The festivities grew tiresome."

Her lips curved faintly. "Or perhaps you wished to avoid unwanted attention?"

I chuckled. "And yet, here you are."

She studied me, her gaze searching. "You are different from what they say."

I met her eyes. "And what do they say?"

"That you are cursed. That your existence is a stain upon the royal family." She paused. "That you are dangerous."

Her words should have stung. But they didn't.

I had lived through worse.

"And what do you believe?" I asked.

She tilted her head, as if considering. "I believe the truth is rarely found in whispers."

A clever answer. Neither an accusation nor an acceptance.

She took a step closer, the scent of sacred incense and night-blooming flowers lingering in the air around her.

"Tell me, Prince Kael," she murmured, "is it fate or defiance that drives you forward?"

A test.

She was trying to see where I stood.

I let a slow smirk tug at my lips. "Fate is merely the excuse of the weak. I carve my own path."

For the first time that night, I saw something shift in her gaze.

Not surprise.

Not caution.

But interest.

---

A Moment Suspended in Time

The night stretched between us, the silence heavy yet unspoken words filling the space.

"You do not fear me?" I asked, watching her closely.

Her emerald eyes held mine without wavering. "Should I?"

I chuckled, a rare, genuine sound. "Most do."

She exhaled softly, looking away toward the city below. "Fear is a chain, Prince Kael. It binds both the weak and the powerful alike."

Her words carried weight, as if they were spoken from experience.

For a brief moment, we were merely two souls beneath the moonlit sky. No politics. No schemes.

Just two people standing on the precipice of an uncertain future.

"You are an enigma, Eleanor Vael," I murmured.

"And you, Kael Ardent, are a storm yet to be unraveled," she replied.

A faint breeze lifted the strands of her silver hair, and for the briefest of moments, she looked almost… ethereal.

Then, as if sensing the shift between us, she took a step back, the cool composure returning to her expression.

"This game you play is dangerous," she warned.

I smirked. "Then I shall have to play it well."

She studied me for another moment before turning away.

As she disappeared into the shadows of the palace, I realized something.

Eleanor Vael was not just another noble.

She was watching me.

And for the first time, I wondered—was she an enemy… or something else entirely?

---

The Gathering Storm

As I returned to my quarters, a familiar figure stood waiting outside my door.

"Leaving the party so soon, Your Highness?"

Lucian Devereux.

The kingdom's golden prodigy. The one everyone admired.

His blue eyes gleamed under the candlelight, but there was no warmth in them.

"You seem troubled, Lucian," I mused. "Did the banquet not satisfy you?"

He took a slow step forward, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

"You intrigue Eleanor."

Ah.

So that was it.

Beneath his polished grace and carefully controlled voice, there was something raw.

Possessiveness.

Jealousy.

"You should choose your company wisely, Kael," he continued, his expression sharpening. "Not everyone is as forgiving as she is."

I smiled. "A warning?"

"A fact."

The unspoken challenge between us was clear.

Lucian Devereux saw me as a threat.

And if he wished to cross swords with me—whether in battle or in fate—I would not hesitate.

The game was already in motion.

And I had every intention of winning.