The rejected crown (book 1)

The awakening

william

William floated in a gray world, caught between sleep and wakefulness. Time felt strange, stretching and twisting like soft fabric, while sounds and images flickered in and out of his mind. A warm sensation brushed against him, a gentle whisper urging him to chase it. He could almost feel it beckoning him closer.

His dead mother's voice drifted past him like a gentle breeze. "Wake up, William," she seemed to say, though he could not see her, only feel the warmth of her presence. But he was heavy, weighed down by a sleep he couldn't quite escape, his limbs heavy like the stone walls of the castle that surrounded him.

"Where am I?" he murmured, but no answer came. Instead, a soft light began to gather around him, parting the fog and revealing fleeting shapes and colors that flickered like candle flames. Was he dreaming? He struggled against the haze, and fragments of memories fluttered to him—playing in the sunlit courtyard, the laughter of friends, walking through the hallways of the castle, entering the royal chambers and then—a dark shadow, a sudden thud, and everything went blank.

"William!" The voice echoed again, clearer now. He turned, and the mist parted, revealing a woman glowing softly, her features delicate and ethereal. "Come to me, sweet boy."

As he approached, the world shifted from gray to vibrant colors, swirling around him like a living painting. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. She looked like his mother but not quite.

"I am here to guide you back," she said, her voice warm and inviting. "You've been away with me for too long."

"Where?" His heart raced with urgency. "What happened to me?"

"Fate can be cruel, but you are strong. You must remember," she urged, and as she spoke, vivid images flooded his mind—a looming shadow, the impact that knocked him down, the darkness that followed.

"I fell," he whispered, panic creeping in. "I fell and can't get back up."

"You did not fall; you were pushed into the unknown," she said gently, her eyes sparkling like sunlight on water. "But you are not lost. You are on the brink of awakening."

"Awakening?" Confusion gripped him. "What does that mean?"

The light around her brightened, revealing a breathtaking landscape—flowers blooming in brilliant colors, rivers shimmering like silver, skies stretching endlessly above. "It means finding your way back to the life waiting for you," she explained. "Your journey is not over." "You don't belong here with me yet."

Taking a deep breath, hope surged within him. "But I don't know how to get back!" he cried, frustration spilling from him.

"Look within yourself. Remember who you are. The laughter, the joy. The world awaits you, filled with love and light."

"William" a voice called, and he felt hands gripping him. "Open your eyes, my boy...."

In that moment, he knew he was ready. He pushed against the heaviness, embracing the light around him.
When William opened his eyes, the dim, familiar surroundings of the infirmary swam into focus. Shadows clung to the edges of the room, and for a moment, he struggled to recognize where he was. A cool hand rested over his, a warmth he couldn't quite place, and as he turned his head, he spotted the figure slumped beside him—his father, prince Richard, face creased with worry.

"Father?" William croaked, his voice raw and strained.

Richard jolted upright, relief breaking across his face. "William! You're awake!" He leaned closer, his voice a mixture of disbelief and joy. "By the gods, I thought—"

"What... happened?" William managed, the memories swirling in his mind. "I remember being in the castle... then... darkness." He shuddered, his head pounding with the effort to recall.

A shadow crossed Richard's face, worry deepening his gaze. "You were found unconscious in one of the lesser-used corridors near the royal chambers. You took a bad blow to the head. No one knows exactly why you were there."

William closed his eyes, flashes of his last memories returning—a figure in the shadows, the sound of voices, and a secret he had barely uncovered. "I saw something... didn't I? Something I shouldn't have," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Richard's face hardened, though he forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It's not important now, William. What matters is that you're awake. We can talk later."

But William saw it—the flicker of unease, the guarded look in his father's eyes. Whatever he had seen, it was dangerous, something his father didn't want him to remember. "No, Father. I have to know. I can't remember clearly, but—"

"Enough!" Richard's voice was low but commanding. He glanced around the room, as if wary of unseen eyes. "You're not to worry about it now. Rest. That's all that matters."

William's determination surged, though he struggled to sit up, his gaze intense. "I know it was something about the princess... and Sir Edwyen. I remember—"

A dangerous glint flashed across Richard's face. "Forget about them, William," he said sharply. "They are none of your concern."

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, until the door opened, and Princess Giovanna stepped into the room, her expression equal parts relief and worry. "William! You're awake!" she said softly, moving closer.

William tried to sit up further, but Richard placed a hand on his shoulder, pressing him back. "Stay where you are, William," he murmured, a warning threaded in his tone.

"Father, I want to know what happened," William persisted, glancing toward Giovanna. "Why was I in that corridor? Did you have something to do with it?" His gaze bore into her, searching for answers.

Giovanna hesitated, a shadow crossing her face before she forced a gentle smile. "William, you must understand—I would never hurt you. I... I was just as scared as everyone were when you were found."

"Scared? Why would you be scared, unless you had something to hide?" William pressed, his frustration mounting. "And Edwyen? Was he just there to... protect you?"

She faltered again, her eyes darting briefly to Richard, who watched the exchange with unreadable intensity. "He was only trying to keep me safe, William. Whatever you saw... it was nothing. An accident."

Richard's eyes narrowed, though he kept his tone measured. "What exactly did you see, William?" he asked, his voice soft, almost coaxing.

A flash of panic crossed Giovanna's face, and she laid a hand on William's arm, her grip firm. "Please, William. It's better if you forget."

The pieces began to fall together, the weight of something unspeakable pressing down on him. "I know I saw something," William insisted, his voice shaking. "You can't tell me to forget, not when—"

Richard cut him off sharply. "Because there are matters at play far beyond your understanding, William!" He gave Giovanna a warning look, as if to remind her to stay quiet. "Focus on recovering, not on things that could put you in danger."

A chill ran through William as he met his father's gaze. "You mean... danger from them? From her?" His eyes flicked to Giovanna, whose face had turned pale.

Her hand slipped away, her voice barely a whisper. "Please, William. I would never want to hurt you."

But William saw through her words, catching the fear hidden behind her innocent facade. Whatever he had stumbled upon, it was something she and Edwyen were desperate to keep buried. He felt his father's hand tighten on his shoulder, urging him to drop the subject.

Swallowing his frustration, he forced himself to say, "I... I don't remember anything. I'm sorry, everyone."

Richard's gaze lingered on him a moment longer before he nodded, his expression unreadable. "Good. That's what's best." He rose, casting one last look at Giovanna, then strode from the room, leaving her alone with William.

She hesitated, regret shadowing her face as she stood by his side. "I'm sorry, William," she whispered before turning and slipping out, leaving him alone with the unsettling feeling that he was surrounded by secrets—secrets he was now forced to forget.