Veiled Whispers

Ch. 6 - The Words of a Prince

Lily
The enigma of 'Val' lingered in the air, a name shrouded in sorrowful veils. Was he a cherished companion, a brother in arms, or perhaps a specter of a love lost too soon? Such fragments of history, when left in my hands, unfurl into sagas as vast as the night sky. Overthinking has indeed no limits known to man. Yet, our acquaintance was too tender for such inquiries; the roots of our friendship had not yet delved into the soils of trust.

His omission of the Duke status intrigued me—how could one so noble move incognito among the masses? Ignorance of his rank was my own, a consequence of my aversion to the drudgery of politics. And yet, in this dance of concealed royalty, we were partners in anonymity; for he, too, was unaware of the blood of monarchs coursing through my veins, until I revealed it.

Amidst the whirlwind of my musings, his voice broke through, "There is going to be a Golden Fair in two days. Would you like to accompany me to it?"
A fair? It was a realm where women led and men followed, yet here he was, extending an invitation to a world of wonder. "Of course. I was going anyway," I replied, my eyes catching the late hour on his pocket watch. "I have to get back. It's past my curfew."

Disappointment flickered in his eyes, swiftly veiled by a courteous offer, "I'll accompany you back." And so, we ventured toward the castle, our journey draped in comfortable silence, punctuated only by fleeting exchanges.

The castle gates loomed as twilight embraced the sky. The thrill of evasion had become a familiar friend, ever since the discovery of a secret passage from the greenhouse—a secret I guarded fiercely. Mother's absence of suspicion was assured; after all, I was supposedly ensconced in the tedium of a 'tea party.' The trappings of princesshood sat uneasily upon my shoulders.

At the threshold of parting, words escaped me. "I'll see you on Saturday. 5 o'clock. At the north gate. Goodbye, Lily." His farewell, devoid of royal address, sent a flutter through my heart. His lips brushed my hand with a tenderness that threatened to unravel me. "Goodbye, Theo" I whispered, my knees nearly betraying me.

The return through the tunnel was met with an anomaly—a cerulean glow beckoning in the distance. It danced away as I approached, leading me on a chase through the shadows to my chamber. The door creaked open, and the light darted into a tome—the diary, an object now cloaked in mystique.

The page marked with my affirmation 'Yes please' bore a new message:
Turn over.
With bated breath, I complied, and what lay beneath compelled me to scrutinize the diary with newfound reverence.

March 3rd, 1997

Today, I teetered on the brink of the abyss, the cold breath of death whispering across my nape. Let's journey back to the dawn of this fateful day.

Theo, ever the stormy presence, brooded through the palace halls, his mind a tempest of radical thoughts that would set ablaze the foundations of our lineage. His reckless stride would've led him straight into Father's study had I not intervened, pulling him from the precipice of his own making. King Jacob, a monolith of silence, would have been unforgiving.

Theo's notions, though laced with the poison of rebellion, held a purity that both awed and terrified me. His vision soared beyond the constraints of the Belmonte creed—a trait I both revered and dreaded.

As we departed the hall, a cacophony of steel and shouts erupted. Guards swarmed like bees disturbed, their movements frantic. Something was amiss.

Matteo, clad in the full regalia of war, approached us. Today, he bore the true mantle of a knight. "Your Grace, Sir, an intruder has breached the sanctum. We must secure your safety," he urged.

An intruder? Or something more sinister?

I ensconced Theo within the safety of his chambers under the guise of seeking armor. I knew well enough he wouldn't remain caged. Time was of the essence—I had to uncover the nature of this threat.

The courtyard was a maelstrom of chaos. Armored figures clashed with phantoms, their blades slicing through the air to meet unseen foes. What malevolent force could evade the eyes of so many?

I found Matteo at the gates, his expression etched with urgency. "Something not of this realm assails us," he confessed before duty called him away.

I observed the skirmish with a hawk's focus. A shadow flitted, a wraith amongst our ranks, felling men with a mere brush of its presence. It was a singular entity, a specter of violence.

Then, silence fell like a shroud. My sword, drawn as if by instinct, gleamed coldly in the twilight. Theo's figure approached, and around him, I discerned the faintest stir of air.

With a warrior's cry, I struck, and the entity halted, blood marring the steel of my blade. Before me stood a creature of human guise, save for eyes that shimmered like amethysts.

It grinned, a predator baring its fangs. "Prince, you wield your sword with grace. You'd be a prized ally," it taunted.

I understood not its words, but then agony erupted as its fangs pierced my flesh. A pain so profound, it threatened to drag me into oblivion.

Now, I pen these words, hand pressed to a neck unmarred yet aflame with an unseen wound. If dawn greets me, I shall continue my tale."

Signed,
'Val'