11 YEARS AGO

Later that evening, the castle was quieter than usual, the echoes of laughter and the clinking of silverware from the feast fading into hushed whispers in the distant halls. Kiernan wandered aimlessly, his mind a whirlwind of frustration, guilt, and anger that he couldn't shake. He needed to fix things, but he wasn't sure how.

He turned a corner and nearly collided with a tall figure—Cyrus, Kael's older brother, who was carrying a stack of heavy books. The impact startled both of them, and the books tumbled from Cyrus's arms, clattering to the stone floor.

"Sorry!" Kiernan exclaimed, his voice tinged with frustration. He quickly bent down to help Cyrus gather the fallen books.

"No harm done," Cyrus said, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he straightened, his calm demeanour always a contrast to Kiernan's internal turmoil. "You're Kiernan, right? Are you okay?"

Kiernan hesitated for a moment, then nodded, not trusting his voice. "Yeah, just a lot on my mind."

Cyrus watched him for a moment, his sharp eyes assessing. "You seem... off," he remarked gently. "I know we don't talk much, but I'm here to talk if you'd like."

Kiernan straightened up, feeling an unexpected warmth from the older man's words. He had always admired Cyrus, though they hadn't shared much in the way of conversation. Unlike Kael, Cyrus had a calm strength, a quiet wisdom that Kiernan had always been drawn to, but had never fully understood. Now, standing in front of him, Kiernan felt the weight of his own actions more than ever.

"I... I don't know," Kiernan began, his voice softer now, a hint of vulnerability slipping through his usual deflection. "I messed up. With Kael. I said some things I didn't mean... I... I've been pushing him away, both of them.." His hands clenched at his sides. "But I don't know how to fix it."

Cyrus studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Kael is a stubborn one," he said. "But if you're truly sorry, he'll listen. He might need time, but his heart is big. He just... doesn't always show it the way you expect."

Kiernan's throat tightened at the thought of Kael's hurt expression, the way his friend had walked away without a second glance. "But I ruined everything."

"You didn't ruin everything," Cyrus replied softly, "You're just human. But if you want to make things right, it starts with honesty. With Kael, with Prince Arto, with yourself. Don't let pride or fear keep you from the people who care about you."

Kiernan looked down at the books in his hands, then back at Cyrus. "Thanks," he said quietly. "I think I know what I need to do."

Cyrus gave him a brief, reassuring smile before walking away, his footsteps fading into the distance. Kiernan stood there for a moment longer, mulling over the advice. There was a knot in his stomach, a deep sense of regret over what he'd done, but also a spark of determination.

Kiernan wasted no time. He needed to find Kael, to make amends, to fix what he had broken. He hurried through the halls, his steps quick and urgent, his mind racing with a thousand ways he could apologise.

As he neared the corridor where Kael's quarters were, he heard voices ahead—Kael's, unmistakable, and another familiar voice. He stopped, his heart sinking as he recognized the words coming from their conversation.

"I can't believe it," Kael's voice was laced with bitterness, his words sharp. "Kiernan... he really does hate me, doesn't he?"

"Not just you," Arto replied, his voice low and heavy with disdain. "He's tearing us all apart. I've tried everything, Kael. I've given him chances, I've reached out, but it's always the same. He pushes everyone away and blames us for it. What else can I do?"

Kael's voice cracked, raw with emotion. "Maybe nothing. Maybe Kiernan doesn't want to change. He likes being the victim—it gives him a reason to act like this. It's exhausting, Art."

Exhausting. Was that what they thought of him? That he'd chosen this life, this pain, just so he could have an excuse to be distant, to be angry? His chest tightened, his fists trembling at his sides, but he stayed frozen in place, afraid to move. Afraid to let them know he was listening.

"I hate to say it, but you might be right." Arto continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every time I try to bring him in, to make him feel like part of this... he just throws it back in my face. I can't keep pretending he's someone he's not." 

The words hit him like a physical blow. Not someone he's not. Was that what Arto thought of him? Had he been pretending all this time? Kiernan swallowed hard, feeling the bitterness rise in his throat. Pretending. He hadn't been pretending. He'd been surviving.

"You mean a friend?" Kael's voice was quiet now, almost cautious, like he was afraid to say it aloud.

Arto's response was flat, final. "Exactly. Maybe he never was, and maybe he never will be. He's not like us, Kael. He doesn't want to build anything—he just wants to destroy." The words hung in the air, heavy and damning, each one like a dagger lodged deep into his chest.

Kiernan's heart pounded in his ears, and for a long moment, he was unable to move. Every word they had spoken replayed in his mind, echoing painfully. He wants to destroy. Was that really how they saw him? How they all saw him?

He stood frozen in place, the weight of their words crushing him from the inside out. He felt as though the floor had dropped away beneath him, leaving him suspended in a horrible, hollow space. They were done with him. He had pushed them too far.

Kiernan's footsteps echoed through the quiet hallways of the castle as he sprinted, his heart hammering in his chest. The cold stone walls blurred around him as his mind focused solely on one thing—reaching the queen.

He had to get out. He had to leave this place, the place that had never felt like home, the place where his past had been twisted into something he couldn't outrun. His father's legacy, his own mistakes, and the relationship he had destroyed with Kael and Arto—none of it could be fixed here.

As he raced past the shadows of the corridor, two older teenagers—Cyrus and Elric—walked casually toward him. But Kiernan was so consumed by the rush of emotion and urgency in his chest that he didn't see them. Cyrus, however, noticed him immediately.

His sharp eyes narrowed, following Kiernan's frantic pace as the boy sprinted toward the end of the hallway. Something about the way he was running made Cyrus pause. He glanced over at Elric, whose expression was unreadable, and then turned his attention back to Kiernan, who was already disappearing around the corner, barely sparing them a glance.

"Is everything alright with him?" Elric asked, his tone light but laced with a hint of curiosity.

Cyrus didn't answer immediately. Instead, he watched Kiernan's retreating figure. "I don't know," He muttered, a frown tugging at his lips.

Elric raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. They continued their walk, the sounds of their footsteps fading into the distance, but Cyrus' eyes remained distant, as if contemplating what he had just seen.

Kiernan reached the queen's private chambers with an urgency that left him breathless. His knuckles banging against the heavy door, loud and insistent. Moments later, the door opened, revealing Queen Amalia, regal and composed as always. But the sharpness in her gaze softened slightly as she took in the frantic look on her nephew's face.

"Kiernan?" she asked, her voice calm, but there was a slight edge of concern in her eyes. "What is it? What's the matter?"

Kiernan could barely catch his breath, his chest heaving as he forced the words out. "I want to go back to my father's estate."

PRESENT DAY

The narrow corridor twisted and turned, each step muffled by thick carpets and dimmed by flickering sconces that cast shadows across the stone walls. Ondina's heartbeat thundered in her ears as they moved deeper into the estate's maze-like halls, guided by Caroline's unwavering stride. Kael's hand was warm and reassuring in hers, even as her grip tightened, nerves fraying with each hurried step.

They rounded a final corner and burst into a dimly lit study. The room was filled with a heavy, almost oppressive silence, broken only by the crackling of a dying fire in the hearth. The faint scent of smoke lingered in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of something sharper, something more sinister—blood.

Across the room, Arto was leaning heavily against a desk, his posture unsteady, shoulders heaving with exhaustion. His tunic was stained dark from what was unmistakably the aftermath of a battle. His face was streaked with sweat and something else, something raw and grim. His gaze was focused downward, at the edge of a thick, leather-bound book where his trembling hand rested. 

Kael's voice broke the silence, a mix of shock and worry. "Arto? What happened?"

Arto looked up, his face drawn and pale, but his eyes were fierce. "Kiernan..." he managed, his voice rough. "He's gone. But he—he's looking for Ondina." He pressed a hand to his side, wincing as he steadied himself.

Ondina moved forward instinctively, her gaze darting between the bloodstained desk and the dark smears on Arto's tunic. "You're hurt..." she whispered, barely able to mask her worry.

Arto gave a weak shake of his head. "I'll be fine," he murmured, though he didn't sound convinced. His hand was still gripping the edge of the book, his knuckles white.

"What's that?" Kael asked, nodding toward the book Arto was clutching. He stepped closer, the candlelight catching a faint symbol on the cover.

Arto's grip tightened on the journal, and he glanced down at the page he'd just been reading, his face tense with the weight of its secrets. "It's... it's an journal of some sort," he said, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes skimmed the text, his expression darkening as he read further. "It talks about... controlling a siren's powers. Specific details, spells, even methods to keep her bound." He broke off, his jaw clenched as he turned to Ondina, guilt flashing across his face. "I didn't get far, but it's clear Kiernan intended to have complete control over you, Ondina."

Ondina's heart sank, the reality of Kiernan's intentions striking deep, unravelling the conflicted feelings she'd tried to suppress. She clenched her fists, feeling both anger and betrayal gnawing at her.

Kael stepped forward and gently took the book from Arto's hands, closing it with a firm snap. "We'll read this later. Together," he said, his voice calm but resolute, as if grounding them all in the storm of emotion hanging in the room. He turned to Arto, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't look great."

Arto gave a small nod, though his face was pale, and his breaths came shallow. "I'll be fine," he said, though the strain in his voice was clear.

Before Kael could press further, Caroline interrupted, glancing toward the corridor with a wary gaze. "We don't have time," she urged, her voice firm. "They'll be looking for you soon, and it's only a matter of minutes before someone knows we're here."

Kael looped his arm around Arto's shoulder, supporting him as they moved swiftly down the narrow corridor. Arto's steps were unsteady, his weight leaning more on Kael with each stride, but he kept his head up, determined not to slow them down.

Caroline turned back to check on them, and as she did, she reached for Ondina's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Stay close. We're almost there," she whispered. Her eyes held a fierce determination, and though Ondina's heart was still heavy with the new revelations, the strength in Caroline's gaze was steadying.

They moved in near silence, slipping down a series of passages that twisted through the back corridors of the estate. Just ahead, they heard hurried footsteps and low voices—guards spreading out to search the area. Caroline motioned for them to stop, holding up a hand as they pressed into the shadows, waiting with bated breath.

A moment later, the voices receded down a different hallway, and Caroline beckoned them forward. They picked up their pace, following her lead, weaving through hidden doorways and passages rarely used by anyone except the staff. Caroline's intimate knowledge of the estate showed as she guided them toward the exit, leading them past the kitchen storerooms and down a dim stairwell.

Finally, they reached a concealed door leading out to the castle's eastern edge, nestled against the towering walls and opening onto a secluded part of the estate grounds. Caroline pushed it open carefully, the hinges creaking softly. She motioned for them to slip outside, casting a quick glance over her shoulder.

"Go, quickly," she whispered. As they stepped out into the quiet night, Ondina paused, her hand still gripping Caroline's. A frown creased her brow, and she turned back to face her. "You're not coming with us?"

Caroline's expression softened, a sad smile tracing her lips as she shook her head. "No, Ondina," she replied gently, her voice barely above a whisper. "I have to stay. My loyalty to Kiernan—it's something I can't just abandon. I haven't been able to for years." Her eyes glistened in the moonlight, and she reached out to tuck a stray curl behind Ondina's ear. "But setting you free... that was something I had to do."

Ondina's heart clenched as Caroline continued. "You reminded me of the good times, the times I had with my sister. I haven't felt like that in a long time." She took a steadying breath, and her hand lingered on Ondina's shoulder for a moment, before dropping to her side. "You deserve to be free, Ondina. I'm so sorry for what happened to you."

Ondina's breath caught as Caroline's words settled over her, each one a gentle balm and a painful reminder. Unable to hold back, she wrapped her arms around Caroline, pulling her into a tight embrace. Her shoulders shook as she whispered, "Thank you for everything." A tear slid down her cheek, and Caroline, with a quiet, soothing murmur, gently rubbed her back, comforting her as though they had all the time in the world.

"Shh," Caroline whispered softly, brushing a hand over Ondina's hair. "It's all right. You're stronger than any of this." She pulled back slightly, brushing away one of Ondina's tears with her thumb. "No one ever has the power to take away who you truly are."

Kael and Arto, standing a few steps back, looked on, their own expressions a mix of gratitude and sorrow. Kael's voice was rough as he spoke. "We owe you so much. I don't think we could ever repay this."

Caroline gave a small, sad smile and nodded. "Just make it out of here. That's all the thanks I need." She met Arto's gaze, her look lingering as if committing their faces to memory. "Take care of each other."

They all nodded, knowing there was nothing left to say. With one last, lingering glance, Caroline turned back.

As she slipped into the shadows, her silhouette dissolving into the dim hallways, a figure crept from behind a tapestry in the far corner of the corridor. It was one of Kiernan's loyal servants—an older woman with a sharp gaze and a knack for overhearing what she shouldn't. She had been lingering just out of sight, catching every whispered word and farewell gesture.

She had stayed just out of sight, silent as a shadow, her sharp gaze absorbing every word and lingering glance. She didn't hesitate; there was no time to lose. Lifting her skirts, she turned and hurried down the dim, twisting corridors, her footsteps quick and determined.

As she moved deeper into the castle, her mind raced, rehearsing the account she would give to Kiernan. She knew the weight of this information—the betrayal, the secret escape route, and the very personal words exchanged with Caroline.