The Temple Accord was never a real sanctuary.
It was a vault of erased sins—buried deep beneath stone and silence.
Kaelith stood at its entrance, torch in hand, unsure if he was about to find salvation or become a traitor to the crown he was born to serve.
He took a breath.
And stepped inside.
---
Scene Break – The Catacombs of Accord
The torches flickered strangely here, as if the flames resisted the truth.
Scrolls lined the damp walls—sealed, unread, and bound in imperial wax.
Kaelith followed the tunnel downward, his boots splashing through forgotten water.
At the end of the corridor stood a single door. Iron. Ancient. And marked with the sigil of the First Bloodline—not his family, not the reigning Empress's, but the Velora line.
He pressed his palm to the seal.
Nothing happened.
Until the door whispered, "You are not her son."
Kaelith's eyes widened.
Not her son?
But he was born in the royal chamber.
Raised as the second prince.
Wasn't he?
---
Scene Break – Seraphina's Study
Seraphina spread the page across her desk, every word vibrating with weight.
> The First Daughter was silenced by decree.
Her name erased. Her child hidden.
One was raised in the palace. One in the dark.
Two bloodlines. One throne.
She could feel it now. The shift. The wrongness.
Kaelith was not her enemy.
But he might not be her ally either.
Marianne entered with wide eyes.
"My lady. It's urgent."
"What?"
"Lord Thorne's men were seen heading for the Temple ruins."
Seraphina stood so fast her chair toppled over.
"If they get there before Kaelith does…"
"They won't," Marianne said. "Because you will."
---
Scene Break – Palace Dungeons
The Empress stared at the sealed cell.
Inside, chained and half-conscious, was the woman from the catacombs—her own sister, presumed dead for decades.
Verren stepped forward.
"Should I kill her?"
"No," the Empress said softly. "We'll use her."
He frowned. "How?"
"As bait."
She smiled.
"And as proof that the throne was stolen."
---
Final Scene – Beneath the Temple
Kaelith knelt before an altar, the light of his torch dancing on the edges of something ancient—an insignia carved in black stone.
It bore two names.
> Velora.
Kaelith.
His own name. Next to Seraphina's.
Not written in ink.
Written in blood.
The truth slammed into him.
He wasn't born to the throne.
He was bound to her.
And now he had a choice:
Uphold a kingdom built on lies.
Or burn it down—for her.
Suddenly, the tunnel echoed with footsteps.
Not alone.
Then a voice called out behind him—
> "Prince Kaelith... you were never supposed to see this."
A sword pressed to his throat.