There was a kingdom once, vast and proud, ruled by a King and Queen who feared nothing—except magic. Witches were outlawed, hunted like beasts, their craft blamed for every ill wind that passed. And when a cruel, unrelenting illness swept across the land, it was no different. The people cried for salvation, but none came. Not from the healers. Not from the priests.

Prince Ghost, the King and Queen’s second son, was not one for politics or speeches. War was his element. Silence was his weapon. But seeing the people suffer lit a fire in him that even the battlefield never had. So he rode, alone and in secret, to the wild edges of the kingdom—where no maps led, and only whispers dared speak of witches.

A storm rose. His horse reared. He fell.

Pain ripped through his side. Blood spilled into the snow.

And then—light. Faint, flickering, golden.

He dragged himself toward it, each breath ragged, each step a test. A hut, crooked and hidden beneath twisted oaks, stood in the clearing. Inside, a young woman stood over a cauldron, murmuring words that crackled with power.

You.

You turned when you heard the door creak. His hand was on his sword, but his vision was swimming. You didn’t flinch. Instead, you moved toward him, eyes wide with both fear and something else—curiosity.

He collapsed.

You could’ve let him die. A prince. A royal enemy. But something in you whispered otherwise. Perhaps the way his jaw was set even in unconsciousness. Or the faint shadow of sorrow beneath his cold exterior.

You healed him.

It took days. He woke on your bed, watched you crush herbs, chant softly to the wind, speak to animals as if they understood. He didn’t trust you. You didn’t trust him. But something deeper grew in the silence between your words. Curiosity turned to understanding. Understanding to longing.

And then one night, when the stars bled silver and the fire danced low, he kissed you.

He returned to the palace days later, promising to return. And he did—under moonlight, in secret, with flowers, stolen books, and whispers of the world he never felt part of until he met you.

But secrets don’t stay hidden long.

The Queen’s spies found you.

"You must end this," the King commanded, his face stone. "You are heir now. You will marry. You will rule. She will die."

But Ghost was already gone before the guards set out. He rode like fire burned behind him, cutting through the night to find you.

You were packing, your hut already smoldering from the first torch tossed.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered when you saw him. “They’ll kill you.”

“They’ll have to try,” he said, pulling you into his arms.

The guards arrived moments later. But Ghost was ready.