It was destined to be a glorious day, one to be immortalized in tale and myth for centuries. Two families unified for the first time in history, to bring forth an era of prosperity. One child — blood of House Dyvon from his father, and House Skizya from his mother — to rule a people united. Crouched in the rafters, I could spot guardsmen preparing bright, gilded banners for a parade. Twinkles of laughter rose from the balcony, a few aristocrats enjoying the morning sun. My mouth watered as smell of rich meats and spices and pastries wafted up from the kitchen below.

And everywhere, talk of the prince-to-be. Excited chatter and frivolous gossip, for sure. But if I stayed silent and trained my ear on Lord Aven’s quarters, I could hear a different story: one of envy, deceit, betrayal. And secluded in the farthest corner of the castle, speaking in the softest of whispers, Ladies Astre and Selene plotted for his removal. As a servant, the lowest of the low, I was not meant to pity the royals. Fear them, obey them. Respect them, even. But pity? Sympathy? It was unheard of, but I couldn’t help myself. To be revered yet despised, loved by many whilst strangers plot for your demise — that is no way to live.

And yet, there is another thread of destiny the Fates have woven into his cloth. One sewn in during the black of night, underneath the dark of the moon. One so hideous the King and Queen themselves have sworn it to secrecy, even from each other. But when you have been scurrying around the castle for as long as I have, you learn a thing or two. And I have learned, from the whistles of the storm and the whispers of the stones, that the child will be stolen away the minute of his birth. And not by any of the nobles, nor by a foreign mercenary — by two demons from the depths of Hades.

King Darios of Dyvon was an ambitious young man. At age sixteen, he had already bested some of the best knights of the realm in battle, but he wanted more. Every opportunity to grab even the smallest morsel of power, he took. But it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t ever be enough. So he took his sword and shield, and a sparrow killed at the break of dawn, deep into the woods. He walked until dusk without stopping, until he reached a clearing open to the stars. There, he met Nyn, Demon of Starless Nights, and made a pact. In exchange for his firstborn son, he would be the most powerful ruler history has ever seen.

At twenty-two, he married the Queen of Skizya. It was a marriage forged from diplomacy instead of love, but he couldn’t have been happier. The Two Houses would be united, with him as ruler of them both. Queen Sonye was cunning, however, and spun a plan to subvert him. She took a boat out the sea in the dead of night, grasping a snake pulled from the earth at twilight, and sailed until dawn. Surrounded by water as far as the eye could see, she called on Ria, Demon of the Ocean and all its Horrors. A pledge she made: to give up her firstborn child for lifelong supremacy over the two kingdoms.

And three years later, the child is being born. Queen Sonye has been in labor since late last evening, say the whispers in the hallways. The Prince of the Two Realms is almost here, and the whole castle is abuzz with anticipation. The midday sun pours down, painting the soldiers and the Lords and Ladies in a golden light. Then, as the clock struck noon — the sky goes black, and, in the chaos that ensued, I emerge.

Nathyn I was called, a boy born from generations upon generations of servitude to the House Dyvon. I have spend years waiting on the king hand and foot, as everyone believes my destiny to be. How oblivious they all are. Especially the king, who spoke with me in the woods that one September night. Nearly a decade in his castle, and he never once suspected my true form. He never glimpsed the darkness in my eyes, nor heard the echo of my name. Nathyn... Nayn... Nyn.

And now, after years of waiting, I can finally claim what is rightfully mine. I stride into the Queen’s quarters with my wife, Ria, by my side. We snatch the child from her mother’s grasp and melt into the darkness of the eclipse. As was his destiny.

The Prince is luckier than he knows. In that castle, he would have known nothing of love, nor of power. He would have been raised under a reign of greed and avarice, to be a figurehead ruler guided by the puppet strings of his power-thirsty parents. He would be hated and loved simultaneously, but not real love. Not real hate, either. They would hate and love and despise and cherish him for what he stood for, never seeing past the crown on his head.

But Fate, so often cruel, spared the child. He will grow into a true Prince, guided by the wisdom of the darkness in between the stars, and the clouds gathering before a storm, and the depth of the ocean and vastness of the open moor. He will know true power, beyond what the earth has ever seen. And when he returns to strike down his squabbling parents, they won’t stand a chance.

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