The Devil in the Shadows
The Golden Kingdom was a jewel among kingdoms, renowned for its beauty and splendor, a place where power and wealth intertwined to create something out of legend. The palace itself was a breathtaking marvel. White stone walls gleamed under the light of a thousand lanterns, and golden towers spiraled toward the heavens as if trying to pierce the stars. Its gardens were the envy of empires—rolling emerald lawns adorned with rare flowers that only bloomed under moonlight, fountains that sang as they cascaded, and glowing crystals embedded in the pathways that illuminated the ground with soft, magical light. Tonight, the palace was alive with celebration, the music of stringed instruments floating into the cool night air.
It was the Bride Selection, a long-awaited event where the three princes—heirs to the most powerful throne in the known world—would begin their search for future queens. Princesses and noblewomen from lands near and far had traveled to compete for the chance to rule alongside one of them. The air was electric with anticipation, but none felt it more keenly than the women themselves, each adorned in silks and jewels, each determined to outshine the others.
The grand ballroom was a place of enchantment. Chandeliers dripping with golden light hung from ceilings painted with scenes of gods and heroes. Marble pillars stretched high, etched with ancient runes. Laughter and music blended into an intoxicating hum, while servants flitted about with trays of sparkling wine and sugared delicacies. The princesses had been invited to enjoy themselves, as the king had decreed this night a celebration in their honor. Even the maids and attendants had been given leave to explore and partake in the festivities—a rare indulgence.
Among the princesses stood Elowen, a shadow in the brilliance. She was not a princess, not even a noblewoman, but merely the ward of Princess Selene, who had brought her along from the East. Elowen had no reason to expect attention in a place so grand, yet wherever she walked, heads turned.
Her beauty was unlike anything the nobles of the kingdom were accustomed to. Her hair, long and black as midnight, fell in soft waves to her waist, glimmering faintly in the golden light. Her eyes were her most striking feature—large and almond-shaped, with irises that shimmered like emeralds kissed by sunlight, flecked with gold. Her lips, full and soft, curved naturally in a way that made them seem as though they were always on the verge of a smile. Her skin was smooth and sun-bronzed, a rich contrast to the pale complexions of the northern nobles. She moved with quiet grace, unaware of the way her presence commanded attention, her slender frame accentuated by the simplicity of her lavender gown.
"Elowen," Selene whispered sharply, catching her by the arm as they moved through the crowd. Selene, resplendent in silver and emerald, carried herself with the confidence of a woman destined for a crown. "You are here to represent me, not to draw attention to yourself. Don't wander far, do you understand?"
Elowen nodded quickly, her head bowed. "Of course, Princess Selene."
"Good," Selene said, her tone softening only slightly. "And remember, this is a night for observing, not participating. Let the nobles see us as refined, not foolish."
Elowen nodded again, but her mind was already drifting. The ballroom, though dazzling, felt suffocating—the heavy perfumes, the heat of too many bodies, the cloying laughter of strangers. Her gaze drifted toward the open doors leading out into the gardens. Beyond them, the night stretched wide and inviting, the air cool and filled with the distant hum of crickets.
The stories she'd overheard from servants tugged at her thoughts. They spoke of a lake, far beyond the palace, hidden past the gardens and through the woods. It was said to be abandoned now, but its beauty rivaled even the palace itself. Elowen felt the pull of it, an irresistible urge to see it for herself. Surely no harm could come from a short escape.
---
The gardens were a world of their own, quiet and otherworldly under the moonlight. Rows of moonflowers unfurled their glowing petals, and ancient trees swayed gently in the breeze. Elowen wandered further, past the neatly kept paths, where the air grew cooler, the scents of flowers giving way to the rich earthiness of the forest.
Her heart quickened as she reached the woods, the canopy above her thick with twisting branches. The faint sounds of the party were gone now, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl. She stepped carefully over roots and fallen leaves, the soft crunch beneath her feet the only sound in the stillness.
And then, she saw it. The lake.
It was vast, stretching out before her like a mirror to the heavens. The water was impossibly still, reflecting the moon in such perfect detail that it seemed as though another sky existed beneath the surface. The trees surrounding it leaned inward, their gnarled branches framing the water like a painting. A few scattered figures stood at the water's edge, their voices hushed, as though they dared not disturb the tranquility of the place.
Elowen stepped closer, her breath catching at the sight. The moonlight seemed brighter here, pooling at the edges of the lake and spilling into the forest. She turned her gaze to the treeline, where the light seemed unnaturally strong, as though it beckoned her forward.
Drawn by her curiosity, she stepped toward the light.
---
He was waiting.
Morris leaned casually against the trunk of an ancient tree, one hand resting on his hip, the other holding a goblet of wine that glinted crimson in the moonlight. His black hair fell in loose waves over his sharp cheekbones, and his golden eyes burned like fire as they settled on her. He was tall, his broad shoulders and lean frame exuding both power and elegance. His lips, curved into a smirk, were impossibly perfect, and his every movement carried the effortless grace of a predator who knew the world was his to command.
"Curious, aren't you?" he drawled, his voice deep and smooth, a melody of arrogance and amusement.
Elowen froze, her heart thundering in her chest. "I didn't mean to intrude," she stammered, stepping back.
"Oh, but you did," he said, pushing off the tree with the lazy confidence of someone who had never been refused. He took a step toward her, and the shadows around him seemed to ripple, curling like living things. "And here I thought tonight would be dull."
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling.
He tilted his head, his smirk widening. "Who do you think I am?"
"I don't know," she whispered, though the air around him seemed to hum with power, and something deep within her told her to run.
He chuckled, the sound low and rich. "I am Morris," he said, his golden eyes locking onto hers. "The devil your kind fears. The one they curse in their prayers. And you, little lamb, have wandered straight into my den."
"That's not possible," she said, shaking her head.
"Not possible?" His smirk deepened as he raised a hand, and the shadows around him surged, dark and writhing, coiling like serpents. The ground trembled, and a gust of wind swept through the trees, carrying with it the scent of fire and ash. "Does this look like a lie to you?"
Elowen's breath caught, her feet frozen in place. "Stay away from me," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"But why would I do that," he murmured, taking another step closer, his voice soft and dangerous, "when you've already come to me?"
The shadows closed in around her, the moonlight flickering like a dying flame. "You don't belong here anymore," Morris said, his golden eyes gleaming. "You belong to me now."
And as the darkness swallowed her, the last thing she saw was his smirk, wicked and unyielding.