Cursed Mark: Rise of the Forgotten Prince

A Night of Restless Thoughts

Sleep was elusive.

Even within the lavish confines of my chamber, beneath the silk-draped canopy of my bed, I remained awake.

The events of the banquet played in my mind like an unfinished puzzle.

Crown Prince Adrian's veiled warning.

Eleanor Vael's quiet intrigue.

Lucian Devereux's barely concealed hostility.

They were all watching me. Studying me.

And in their own ways, they were deciding what I was to them—a pawn or a threat.

I exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling.

I had expected opposition.

But I had underestimated the sheer weight of the eyes upon me.

They are waiting for you to make a move.

A game of power was unfolding.

And I had no choice but to play.

---

The Invitation

The following morning, as the golden rays of dawn seeped through the palace windows, a soft knock echoed through my chamber.

I pulled myself from my thoughts and opened the door.

A young maid stood there, her uniform crisp, her posture rigid with practiced formality.

"A letter for you, Your Highness," she said, bowing slightly.

I took the sealed envelope from her delicate hands, noting the emblem pressed into the wax.

Eleanor Vael.

The saintess herself.

Intriguing.

I broke the seal, unfolding the parchment with measured anticipation.

"Prince Kael,

Meet me at the Moonlit Garden at dusk. There is something we must discuss.

—Eleanor Vael"

Short. Direct. Unmistakable in intent.

I traced my fingers over the ink, considering.

There was no doubt that this was more than a simple conversation.

She had tested me once before.

Was this another test? Or something else?

Either way, I would find out soon enough.

---

A Garden of Secrets

Dusk arrived, painting the sky in hues of indigo and crimson as I made my way to the Moonlit Garden.

Nestled deep within the palace grounds, the garden was a place of rare serenity—a sanctuary untouched by the scheming nobility.

The scent of night-blooming jasmine filled the air, mingling with the cool breeze.

And beneath the soft glow of enchanted lanterns, she stood.

Eleanor Vael.

Her silver hair shimmered under the pale moonlight, her emerald eyes reflecting a quiet intensity.

She turned as I approached, her expression unreadable.

"You came," she said softly.

I smirked. "Did you expect otherwise?"

She studied me for a moment before shaking her head. "No. I suppose not."

A brief silence settled between us, the distant hum of the fountain filling the space.

Then, she spoke.

"The banquet last night… the way you carried yourself… it was different from the prince I had heard about."

I raised a brow. "Disappointed?"

Her lips curved slightly. "Intrigued."

She took a slow step forward, her gaze piercing. "You are not the weak prince they claim you to be."

I met her eyes, unflinching. "And yet, you still came to see for yourself."

She exhaled, tilting her head slightly. "I do not place faith in rumors."

A fair answer.

But there was more to this.

"What do you truly want, Eleanor?" I asked, watching her closely.

She hesitated, as if weighing her words.

Then, she did something unexpected.

She reached up, touching the faint golden crest at her collarbone—the divine sigil granted only to those blessed by the gods.

"The church," she murmured, "watches everything."

A pause. A warning.

I narrowed my eyes. "Including me?"

Her gaze didn't waver. "Especially you."

---

A Dangerous Truth

A flicker of realization settled in my chest.

The church—an entity as powerful as the empire itself—had taken notice of me.

Not just as a prince.

But as something more.

"They do not fear you yet," Eleanor continued. "But that will change."

I folded my arms. "And what is your role in all this?"

She looked away briefly, as if gathering her thoughts. "I serve the temple. But my faith does not blind me to the games of men."

A careful answer.

She was walking a delicate line—bound by duty, yet unwilling to be a mere tool.

I found myself respecting that.

"You're warning me," I mused. "Why?"

Her eyes softened, just slightly.

"Because I know what it is like to be watched."

A simple truth, spoken in a quiet voice.

I understood her meaning immediately.

For all her divine grace, Eleanor was not free.

She was bound by expectations. By duty.

Just as I was.

And in that moment, an unspoken understanding formed between us.

She wasn't merely here as a priestess or a noble.

She was here as someone who saw the chains I bore—because she carried her own.

---

A Tension Unspoken

The wind stirred between us, carrying the scent of jasmine and something unspoken.

She took a step closer, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Be careful, Kael."

It was the first time she had said my name without a title.

A deliberate choice.

A crack in the carefully constructed walls between us.

I held her gaze. "And you, Eleanor—should I offer you the same warning?"

A flicker of amusement touched her lips. "Perhaps."

The space between us felt smaller than it should have.

There was no grand declaration. No sudden, reckless impulse.

But there was something.

A shift in the air. A lingering gaze.

A silent acknowledgment of something neither of us dared to name.

Not yet.

She stepped back, her expression once more composed. "We will speak again soon."

A promise.

I inclined my head slightly. "Until then."

And with that, she turned, vanishing into the moonlit path beyond.

---

The Shadow That Watched

As I stood there, letting her words settle, a faint sensation prickled at the edge of my senses.

A presence.

Unseen. Unheard.

But unmistakable.

I turned my gaze toward the farthest corner of the garden, where the darkness pooled thickest.

For a brief second, I saw it—

A figure. A shadow among shadows.

Watching.

Waiting.

And then, it was gone.

A slow smirk curled my lips.

So the game had truly begun.

And I was more than ready to play.