Echoes of Dark Curse

CHAPTER ONE

"...The princess, with her gentle grace and unwavering spirit, pierced the armour of the wicked prince's heart, transforming his malice into something softer—something almost human. Her touch melted the frost encasing his soul, letting warmth seep through the cracks. And just as she vowed to El, the world basked once more in the light of life and purity."

The book closed with a quiet thump, its worn leather binding whispering secrets to the night. But my thoughts still buzzed like fireflies, darting around unanswered questions.

"Why can the Princess say El's name, but not the Prince?" I asked, clutching the blankets up to my chin, eyes wide. My voice felt loud in the hush of my room.

My father smiled, a soft, knowing thing. "Only those of light can speak the name of El," he said gently. "The Prince, once consumed by darkness, became part of the Sheol World—a place where light fears to tread."

"Are there monsters there?" I whispered.

He nodded. "Many. But none so cruel as the Prince himself. And yet... he was not always a monster. That is what makes him dangerous."

He set the book on my nightstand, the candlelight flickering as if in agreement. The shadows on the walls danced in silence.

These stories—dark, mysterious, beautiful—were my lullabies. Each night, my father, the great King of Thornhaven, would sit beside my bed and breathe life into legends. I could hear the same tale a dozen times and still find something new inside it.

"Wasn't the Princess scared of him?" I asked, my voice soft.

"She was," he admitted. "But she saw something others could not—a thread of goodness, thin as spider silk, still tethering him to the light."

He leaned in and kissed my forehead. The kind of rare, careful kiss that made my chest swell with warmth.

"Was he handsome?" I asked.

He laughed quietly. "That's enough questions for tonight, little blossom. As your mother used to say, 'The morning is wiser than the evening.'"

I frowned. "But how can morning be wiser?"

"Because at night, you reflect. You dream. And come morning, you see the world clearer."

He stood in the doorway, his silhouette framed in the warm glow of the hallway behind him.

"Sleep well, Eva. We'll talk more tomorrow."

The door closed with a gentle click, and the candle beside me dimmed on its own—as if he'd willed it. The light always obeyed him.

I pulled the covers up to my nose and stared at the stubby candle. I wanted to do what he could—snuff it out with nothing but thought. I tried, focusing every ounce of willpower on that tiny flame.

Nothing.

It flickered mockingly.

Again and again I tried, until my eyes burned and watered. But it stayed lit. Always lit.

Each failure left a cold pit in my stomach. The powers were supposed to come soon—my father expected it. Everyone did. Magic ran through royal blood like lifeblood itself, passed from father to child. When a king commanded fire, his son often did the same.

But I was no son.

I was the only daughter born to the King of Thornhaven in generations. And that made me more than rare. I was revered. Worshipped. Called a divine child. A living symbol of purity and prophecy.

A miracle kingdoms would kill for.

And still, I had no magic.

The silence was pierced by a sudden scuff of movement—something brushed past my door.