Zyren awoke early the next morning, long before the sun crested the spires of Rithaleon. His sleep had been restless—haunted by fragmented dreams of burning suns and shadowed faces. Each vision felt like a warning, though its meaning slipped through his grasp. The moonstone pendant throbbed faintly against his chest, syncing with his heartbeat, its weight a quiet reminder of the danger just beyond the horizon.
He dressed quickly, discarding the bloodstained tunic and replacing it with a fresh set of royal garb. His fingers trembled slightly as he worked, but there was no time for hesitation. The day ahead was already heavy with purpose.
Outside his door, the servants were already hard at work. They moved with practiced grace, oblivious to the storm roiling behind his eyes. "How could they not feel it? he thought bitterly. The kingdom is on the brink, and yet here they are, going about their routines as if nothing has changed."
But he knew the truth: panic was a luxury he couldn't afford. Not now.
The Order of the Black Sun. His father's words echoed in his mind like a drumbeat: "You're not alone in this. But you act like you are."
Since their mother's death, Zyren had felt the weight of isolation.
His father was consumed by the throne, and in the quiet void, only his nine-year-old sister, Lira, remained—a fragile link to what they had lost. She didn't fully understand the loss, but her presence, her innocent questions, anchored him in a world that was slowly slipping away.
But this? This was different.
The Order wasn't just a figment of ancient myth. They were real. And they were coming for him.
But there was one place where answers might lie, where the dangerous secrets of the world had been hidden away for centuries: the Forbidden Archives.
Hidden beneath the Sanctum Arcanum, the Archives were a labyrinth of forgotten tomes, sealed relics, and truths too dangerous for open light. Zyren had wandered its outer corridors as a child, drawn by whispers of forbidden knowledge. But he hadn't understood the weight of what he'd sought. Not until now.
But now, with the darkness of the Order pressing in, Zyren understood all too well. The answers hidden in that labyrinth might be the only thing that could save Rithaleon—and perhaps even his own life.
---
As he slipped out of the palace, Zyren pulled a dark cloak around his shoulders, hiding his identity from the watchful eyes of the palace guards.
The streets were still quiet, save for the distant murmur of the city waking up. The market square, usually a cacophony of sounds and colors, seemed muted in the morning haze.
"I've walked these streets countless times", he thought, "but today feels different. The weight of my steps feels heavier, as if every movement is a countdown".
Questions coiled through Zyren's mind like smoke—could he trust his father's calm assurances, or were they the final comfort before the storm?
"I can't keep waiting for answers. The kingdom is already at war—and I'm the one left to fight it."
At the foot of the stone steps leading into the Sanctum stood Lily, one of his mother's most trusted attendants. She had watched over him in his youth, offering silent comfort after his mother's death. Even now, her quiet presence reminded him of a time when things had felt safer, simpler.
"You shouldn't be here, Your Highness," Lily murmured, her voice light but urgent. "The Archives are not for the eyes of the young or the unprepared."
Zyren met her gaze, unflinching. "I need answers, Lily," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. "You know why I'm here."
Her eyes flicked nervously toward the ornate door beneath the Sanctum. "I do know," she said softly. "But this place—these books—they're dangerous. Even for someone who's prepared."
Zyren met her gaze, the weight of his decision settling on him like a cloak of iron. "I can't ignore this. I won't. Not when it's already too late."
She studied him a moment longer, then gave a slow nod. "Follow me. But be swift. The longer we stay, the more we risk."
Zyren followed her into the depths of the Sanctum, the silence pressing in on him from all sides. He felt like an intruder in a world long abandoned. As they descended further, the air grew colder, and the shadows deepened.
The Archives felt more like a tomb than a library—ancient, forgotten, and steeped in a silence so dense it pressed against his skin. Somewhere in the shadows, a faint rustle echoed—a whisper without a source.
When they arrived at the heavy iron door, its surface etched with ancient runes, Zyren's heart skipped a beat. This is it. The heart of the kingdom's secrets.
Lily muttered a series of words under her breath, and the door groaned open with a heavy creak.
Inside, the Archives stretched before him like an endless maze of forgotten knowledge. He stepped forward, feeling the pull of a thousand lost histories whispering to him from the shelves. "What will I find here? Will I uncover what I need to stop the Order, or will I find something that's better left buried?"
"You have one hour," Lily warned, her voice tight with nerves. "After that, we must leave. The danger here is… profound."
Zyren nodded absently, already moving forward. He had no intention of leaving without answers.
His eyes scanned shelf after shelf, chasing the flicker of instinct, until finally—there it was.
A manuscript bound in cracked leather. The cover was emblazoned with the symbol he'd seen before—the jagged sun.
His heart raced.
"This is it. The Order of the Black Sun."
The pages crackled as he opened the book, each one filled with cryptic symbols. The language was older than anything he had studied before, but the diagrams, the sigils—they were unmistakable. Rituals. Blood oaths. The rise of the Black Sun.
The Order was ancient, older than the kingdom itself. They were not merely rebels or shadowy figures—they were a force that had once nearly destroyed Rithaleon.
And now, they were rising again.
"I have to stop them". Zyren's thoughts raced. "But how? What can I do against an enemy that had survived for centuries in the shadows?"
Then, a voice—low, knowing—cut through his thoughts.
"You've been digging where you shouldn't, Prince."
Zyren spun, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his blade.
Framed in the doorway stood —the woman from the alley.
Her expression was unreadable, the faintest smile ghosting her lips.
"You," Zyren said, his voice a mixture of surprise and suspicion. "Why did you help me?"
"I told you before," she said, stepping forward, "I know the Order. And I know you're not the only one looking for answers."
"You've been watching me."
She didn't deny it. "And if I hadn't, you'd be dead."
Zyren's fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword. "Who are you?"
"Selene," she said. "And I've been fighting them longer than you can imagine."
He couldn't stop the bitter laugh. "You expect me to trust you?"
Her smile sharpened. "You don't have a choice. Your blood remembers more than you know."
She reached out, her fingers brushing the spine of the manuscript. "And that book only scratches the surface."
Before he could respond, a sudden noise interrupted them—the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching fast.
"Corwin," Lily hissed.
Zyren turned just as the door creaked open.
Corwin, a servant who had grown up alongside Zyren, entered with familiar concern etched on his face.
More like a brother than a servant, Corwin had shared every step of Zyren's life in the palace, offering loyalty and comfort in moments of doubt.
His unwavering presence was a reminder that, despite the weight of duty, some bonds remained unbroken.
"The High King is coming," Corwin said urgently, his voice a whisper. "You need to leave. Now."
Zyren's pulse quickened."How did he know?"
"There's no time," Corwin urged. "We can't be found here."
Zyren hesitated, his hand still on the book. So many questions. But no time for answers.
He shut the manuscript with a soft thud.
Selene lingered behind, her gaze locking with his. "We'll talk again."
And then she was gone—vanishing into the Archives like a shadow fading from flame.
---
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Back at the palace, Zyren stood once more in his father's chambers, the weight of knowledge pressing down on his shoulders.
"I trust you've had an eventful morning," Thalen said, his voice laced with unspoken concern.
Zyren said nothing at first. His mind swirled with images of the Black Sun, with secrets bound in blood and silence.
"Father," Zyren said finally, his voice steady but urgent, "I can't ignore this. The Order is already moving. I have to act. We have to stop them."
Thalen's face darkened, "I know. But this isn't just about them. It's about what comes next."
Zyren looked at him, his heart pounding. "What do you mean?"
"Your vacation is almost over—it's time to return to the Academy. You need more than knowledge; you need the strength to face what's coming."
Zyren stiffened. "You're sending me away? Now?"
"I'm preparing you," Thalen said. "The Order is a threat—but they're only part of it. The throne… our future… all of it is at risk. And you must be ready to protect it."
Zyren's voice was tight. "And if the war reaches us before I'm ready?"
"Then we'll fight it together," his father said. "But you must learn what it means to lead before you learn what it means to win."
Zyren swallowed his frustration, nodding slowly. Trusting in his father's plan—even as a voice inside him screamed that time was slipping through his fingers.
Because deep down, he already knew:
The war had begun.
And he would not stand idle.
---
*End of Chapter Four*