Isolde was different from the other girls at court.
At only ten years of age, she was far more collected, quiet. There was a softness to her gaze — measuring, watching — picking up the little things others missed. Cues, glances, whispers. Isolde rarely spoke, but when she did, people listened. There was boldness beneath the silk.
She was beautiful, in that distant royal way. Dreamy, clear gray eyes. Pale golden hair — the kind only royal blood bore, hinting at their dragon heritage . She was small for her age, frail even... but she walked like a queen already. Trained in the ways of court from the moment she could understand words. And she hated it — the feeling of being trapped in a life already written.
And now... the boy. The one with the wolf's gaze. She couldn't push him from her mind.
He seemed older — maybe four years — but not by much. Yet his eyes had seen more than hers ever had. And she wanted that. To see more. To know more.
At least she had left the capital behind. For Veyrithal.
Veyrithal — the place Father said wisdom was born. Where kings learned to rule. Where healers mended what swords broke. She wondered if the stones truly whispered secrets of lost kings like the old stories claimed.
She told herself she had accepted her future as queen, and was ready to start taking necessary steps.
But,was she?
"Dad, can I use the grand library if I get to Veryrithal" Isolde asked her dad softly.
"Of course" King Aldric replied. "But only if it won't take up your lesson times".
"It, won't" She replied,beaming with smiles.
She loved to read,it was her only means of escape. She loses herself in the stories, imagining she lived in those worlds.
----
Kaelen had felt something.
A warmth when the king's carriage had stopped — like a soft gnawing deep within his chest.
He brushed it aside — maybe nerves.
He knew they were the royal family. The pale gold hair gave it off, the stories he had heard said it was related to their dragon lineage, dating them back to the age of dragons.
"We rest here tonight" Thavarel voice sounded, cutting his chain of thoughts.
Kaelen arranged a make shift bed from the horse and lay down, trying to catch some sleep.
At least he hoped too.
----
The night was long gone when Kaelen finally dosed off, he drifted off,body weightless, finally resting after a long day.
He couldn't sleep long before his mind drifted off, and his nightmares came to haunt him.
Darkness.
Cold.
Then — light. A dull, flickering red. Blood.
Kaelen stood frozen. His sword — buried deep in Soren's belly. Warm, wet. His hand gripped the hilt, fingers unable to let go.
Soren gasped, choking. His hand came up — weak, trembling — touched Kaelen's face.
"Brother..." he whispered, voice thin like breaking thread.
Kaelen wanted to speak — to beg, to scream — but his mouth stayed shut. His throat burned.
Soren fell — crumbling — but when his body hit the ground, it wasn't Soren anymore.
It was his father.
Old eyes, hollow. The same voice.
"Live, Kaelen," the old man whispered, staring up at him from the dirt.
Blood pooled, spreading, swallowing the ground beneath.
Kaelen tried to step back — but the mud dragged him down. The faces — Soren, Father, Master Rovan — all twisted, reaching for him from the dark.
"Live... survive..."
Their voices echoed, stretching thin like wind through dead trees.
Kaelen gasped — woke — sweat cold on his neck, he looked down slowly at his trembling hands.
The fire by the camp had burned low.
Morning was near.
Then he heard them.
Silas and three others. They were murmuring, their voices barely a whisper.
Kaelen moved quietly under the cover of darkness,till he came close to them. The men barely noticed a thing
"We need to get him back, he took out three of ours" The plumpy soldier with his back to Kaelen said. " Blood repays blood".
"Thavarel would never agree to that" Silas replied him.
Kaelen trained eyes couldn't read the emotions on their faces,as it was a dark night. But their voices gave their emotions. These were men who wanted blood. His blood.
"The general doesn't have to know" Another soldier said. "We can do it at sea, toss his body over,make it look like he drowned".
"Yes,no one...." The plumpy soldier started again,but was cut off by the cold feeling of metal at his throat.
They never saw Kaelen come. But there he was sword to the throat of one of them.
"I don't kill without a reason" Kaelen began, his voice menacing. "Don't give me a reason".
He stood up, dropped the sword at the plumpy soldier side,then walked back to his bed.
Silence came over them, covering them like a veil.
The soldier who had looked death in the face was cold, drenched in sweat.
They all stared at the boy. He was still a boy, but they knew he meant what he said.
Silas understood why his general took the boy
He didn't like him,but he was beginning to grow respect for him.
Silas didn't trust him,but worse.... he feared him