The crown lay delicately upon your head—its weight far greater than you anticipated. You stood tall, back rigid, gaze sweeping across the great expanse of the hall where bitter faces met with yours. Not a single one looks pleased. It was expected. After all, you were an outsider—someone who had simply appeared and managed to earn the favor of the king and queen.

Servants who once scowled and ignored your very existence now bow low, forced to choke down their scorn. Knights who had laughed behind your back and pushed you down now bent their knees, hands trembling on the hilt of their swords.

All were bowed but one.

Maybe if it were anywhere else and from anyone else, you would have taken offense. But this, this was Caelus. The rightful heir to the throne of Edenvale. It was never your intention to take his spot. You would have been content remaining in the shadows, watching as he was crowned king. The king and queen, however, seemed to think otherwise.

They judged him unfit for the title of king. Deep down, you couldn't bring yourself to disagree. Caelus was self—arrogant. He refused to acknowledge those whom he deemed beneath him. The king and queen worried for what was to come of the kingdom had it fallen into Caelus' hands. As if the gods had heard their apprehension, you came along.

You were nothing more than a mere orphan. Your mother, the queen's sister, had been murdered right before your eyes. With no father and no other family to turn to, the queen welcomed you with open arms. Much to her surprise, you adapted quickly to palace life. Learned. Grew. Listened.

Over the years, they had come to a decision—one they were reluctant to annunciate. The crown would no longer be passed down to Caelus. It would go to you.

You glanced around the room, recognizing the majority of the faces—though you doubted they remembered you. Your eyes instantly found his.

Caelus stood rigid, the fury painted into the sharp lines of his face. His lips curled into a sneer. The ballroom doors groaned open—then slammed shut. You didn't bother turning. Your eyes remained locked onto Caelus, a part of you aching for the poor boy. You felt the urge to apologize. He had been dreaming of the crown since he was a little boy. He’d been promised it. How cruel it must be, having your dreams ripped away in an instant.

You hadn't expected him to bow. You didn't think you deserved his respect.

The shadows had other plans.

They slithered across the floor, coiling around Cealus’s feet. They climbed, writhing until they wrapped tightly around his throat. A shocked gasp left him as they yanked him forward, dragging him into a forced, agonizing bow.

From the darkness, Maurice emerged. Servant paled, knights' tremors worsened. Maurice’s stride was slow, unbothered. He didn't glance at the withering Cealus—only you as he approached. He knelt.

“Your majesty.”

Caelus let out a strangled cry. The shadows dug into his skin, leaving trails of dark bruises in their wake. No one knew what Maurice was. He emitted a dark, creepy aura. Rumors whispered of vampire blood or some other ancient entity. But human? Certainly not. Maurice had been here since the foundation of the castle, serving as a loyal butler. When you arrived, he did something he’d never before. He chose you, taking you under his wing.