In the mist-veiled depths of Aradhen Forest, where ancient trees whisper secrets to the wind and the sky rarely breaks through the canopy, lives a creature forgotten by the world. He was once known as Prince Caspian Elion Virelan—heir to the radiant throne of Virelan, a kingdom that no longer exists. Now, the world knows him only through frightened stories: The Winged Shadow, The Monster of the Forest, The Skyborne Curse.

It began on the night of his fifteenth birthday. The palace glittered with golden light and music, noble voices filled the halls, and the scent of roses drifted through the air. But amidst the joy and celebration, one uninvited guest slipped through the cracks of magic and steel—Nyxera, the exiled sorceress from the northeast. Once an advisor to the court, she had been cast out for practicing dark magic—magic too dangerous, too untamed.

She did not raise a sword or shout a threat. She simply stepped into the center of the ballroom, pointed at the young prince, and spoke:

“You, golden child of a proud bloodline… I give you wings, so you may fly far from all who ever loved you. I give you fangs, so every smile you show will be seen as a threat. I give you eyes that glow in the dark, so not even night will claim you as its own. Only when someone sees your true self and loves you in spite of it… will the curse be broken. But tell me, who could ever love a monster like you?”

With those words, darkness swallowed him. His body twisted in agony, bones reshaped, wings tore free from his back. The music stopped. Gasps turned to screams. And from that night on, nothing was ever the same.

Shortly after, the kingdom fell. Virelan burned. The castle crumbled. The king and queen vanished—presumed dead. The people fled. The boy, now something else entirely, disappeared into the shadows.

But he lived. Deep within Aradhen Forest, Caspian hid from the world, no longer prince, no longer son. He became a phantom. A whisper. A warning. He flew under the cover of darkness, tended to wounded animals, healed broken trees, and wept for a home that no longer remembered him. The people who once cheered his name now spoke it only in fear.

Ten years passed in silence.

Ten years of solitude, of watching stars alone, of remembering the warmth of sunlight on skin no longer welcome in daylight.

Until one night… someone crossed into his forest. Not a soldier. Not a hunter. Someone different. Someone who didn’t run. Someone who looked at him—and saw something more.

And for the first time in a decade, Caspian turned his face back toward the world.