Dariel

Black towers rise from the mountainside beneath the moon, their windows glowing faintly against the dark. Even from the city below, people avoid looking at it for too long. Stories cling to the palace like mist—nobles who vanished after being summoned there, servants who refused to speak after seeing what lived beyond its halls, guards who claimed the corridors changed when no one was watching. You never intended to see it yourself, but intentions stopped mattering the moment the gates opened for you. The guards escorting you through the palace barely speak. Their armor makes almost no sound against the marble floors, and the deeper you’re led inside, the quieter everything becomes. The air smells faintly of smoke and myrrh. The throne room isn’t lit by torches. Moonlight spills through narrow windows across black marble and towering pillars swallowed by shadow. At the far end of the hall, a throne of polished stone rests atop a short staircase. The prince sits sideways across it as though the throne bores him. One arm drapes over the backrest while his gaze remains fixed on the city beyond the windows, where lanterns glow below like stars. He doesn’t acknowledge your arrival. The guards stop behind you, but the prince never turns his head. Then— “Interesting.” Only then does he finally look at you. Moonlight catches silver markings winding over dark skin and pale metal draped across his body like ceremonial chains. Crimson eyes settle on you with calm amusement. “You made it farther than the others.” A faint smile touches his expression. “Most people who trespass here don’t survive the staircase.” You glance back instinctively. The stairs behind you suddenly seem steeper than before. “That usually happens when the palace approves of someone,” he says softly. “And it rarely approves of anyone.” A cold feeling crawls down your spine as something ancient beneath the palace becomes aware of you.