“If I’m being honest, madam… I’m a little jealous of you,” the knight said with a half-laugh, half-sigh. “You’ve no idea how hard I worked my ass off just for a chance to even see one of the Black Princes in person.”

  She glanced sideways at the girl walking beside her, her tone playful—but not without a trace of truth.

  The girl’s deep blue eyes sparkled with excitement. She wore a flowing gown styled like an 1800s noblewoman—elegant, but simple, not fit for royalty, yet still radiating grace. In contrast, the knight beside her marched in full gleaming black armor. A red blade emblem painted over her breastplate marked her rank—one of the elite.

  “I… I’m sorry,” the blue-eyed girl said softly, glancing up at her with guilt. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “No offense taken, Princess,” the knight interrupted quickly. She stopped and straightened up, suddenly all formality. “Forgive me if I spoke out of turn.”

  “Don’t be so formal,” the girl said gently, reaching out to place a hand on the knight’s shoulder, stopping her from bowing further. “You have every right to feel whatever you feel. Jealousy. Resentment. Even anger. I… I didn’t earn this.”

  The knight froze for a moment, stunned by the honesty in her voice. “Princess…”

  “Please stop calling me that,” the girl said with a faint smile. “I’m not one. I wasn’t born into any of this. I just… loved a prince. That’s all.”

  She stopped in front of a tall window. Beyond the glass stretched a vast, moonlit field—an ocean of black flowers, gently swaying in the quiet wind.

  “I don’t even know if this is real or just a dream I haven’t woken from,” she whispered.

  The knight’s voice softened. “You are the wife of our Crowned Prince. Not just a princess—you are our future queen.”

  The girl looked at her again, half amused, half tired. “And what would it take to make you stop calling me that?”

  “If I did?” The knight chuckled. “Your husband might forgive me. But the others—especially the First Princess? She’d have my head. Probably before the trials even began.”

  “She’s that terrifying, huh?” the girl smiled faintly. “Joanna? She seemed so… kind to me.”

  “That’s only because you’re valued by the Crowned Prince,” the knight replied carefully.

  The girl paused, her eyes thoughtful. “Did… ichaayan—” she stopped herself, realizing the knight didn’t understand. “Sorry—did your Crowned Prince truly value his wife so much?”

  “Oh, he does,” the knight said without hesitation. “There was never a place so bright or clean in all the Shadow Realm until you arrived. He ordered this entire wing to be built because he said you wouldn’t like the Obsidian Palace. Said you loved the light too much. And the garden? He said a blue-eyed butterfly was coming to him… and then made the largest flower field this world—and even your world—has ever seen.”

  The girl stood in stunned silence, her gaze drifting back out to the vast black meadow beyond the window.

  “Did he… really say all that?” she asked softly—half a question, half a whisper to herself.

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The final bell echoed across the college grounds, sharp and shrill. Within seconds, the corridors erupted into chaos—students flooding out like a monsoon, laughter and chatter bouncing off the old stone walls.

  Groups gathered in corners, friends lingered near staircases, and couples wandered off in search of quiet places to steal a few moments together. Amid the noise, John stood with Varun near a shadowed column, his eyes scanning the sea of faces—searching for her.

  He hoped to catch a glimpse of her before she noticed him. Somehow, that mattered.

  From the far end of the corridor, a group of students rounded the corner. They were laughing, the kind of laughter born from exhaustion and relief after a long day of lectures. There was a rhythm to their steps, a comfort in their togetherness.

  Among them, at the edge closest to the wall, walked a girl.

  Her presence was quiet, almost hidden. Her long hair fell loosely over one shoulder, veiling half her face, but her smile was unmistakable—soft, warm, unguarded. Until it wasn’t.

  Suddenly, she stopped.

  Her eyes—a piercing, unforgettable deep blue—locked onto something ahead. Or someone.

  The smile vanished. The laughter faded from her lips. Her face changed in an instant—like a curtain falling on a play. Disbelief crossed her features first, followed by something far more vulnerable… almost like fear.

  Time slowed around her.

  Without saying a word to her friends, she stepped out of the group. Her movement was subtle but deliberate. Her steps quickened with each second, heart leading before her body fully understood. Her eyes never left the figure half-hidden behind the stone pillar.

  He hadn’t seen her yet. His head turned in the opposite direction, still scanning the crowd, unaware that the moment he’d been waiting for was already unfolding.

  Her breath caught.

  “Jo…” she whispered.

  The name trembled on her lips—half-joy, half-terror—like a ghost from a past she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The little girl stood frozen near the corner of the classroom, her small fingers gripping the edge of the wooden shelf behind her. Her deep blue eyes, wide with fear, watched the chaos unfold like a scene torn from a nightmare.

  Books flew through the air, bags were scattered across the floor. Desks had toppled—some lying sideways, others barely standing as they leaned against benches like wounded soldiers. Cracks ran along the tiled floor, echoing the violence that had just erupted.

  At the center of the storm stood a boy—her age, but something about him felt older, heavier. His school shirt was torn at the seams, buttons ripped off, loose threads hanging like scars. His chest heaved, not from exhaustion, but from something darker—rage, maybe... or pain.

  Around him lay their classmates—some groaning, some still. Only one boy remained standing, trembling, his own shirt hanging in shreds. He took a hesitant step back—but it was too late. With a swift, precise movement, the boy lunged forward and brought him down in a single blow.

  Silence.

  Then, his eyes met hers.

  For the briefest second, something shifted. His expression changed—not with regret for the chaos, not for the bruised bodies around him—but for her. The girl in the corner. The one who hadn’t run. The one who had seen everything.

  A flicker of shame crossed his face.

  “Sorry,” he said softly. His voice was barely a whisper, but she heard it—felt it.

  She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her lips trembled, but her eyes—those deep blue eyes—held his gaze.

  That’s when the door burst open. A teacher rushed in, shouting, and grabbed him by the arm. He didn’t resist. As he was dragged away, his head turned back toward her.

  “Sorry…” his lips moved again.

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The soft clatter of crockery and the low hum of conversation filled the coffee shop near the college. Outside, dusk hung low over the city, casting long shadows through the foggy windowpanes. Inside, in a corner table half-buried in shadow and rising steam, two cups of tea waited—cooling slowly.

  Aaradhya sat with her college bag still resting at her feet. Her blue eyes, once bright, now looked dulled—tired from carrying too much. Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping, framing her face with a kind of quiet disorder that made her look both vulnerable and real.

  Across from her, John sat still. His eyes never left her face. He looked like a man trying to remember a song from a dream—something he once knew by heart but had long forgotten the words to.

  The waiter placed the tea down with a soft nod and vanished.

  “What are you thinking?” Aaradhya asked gently, her voice brushing the silence. Her hands wrapped around the warm cup as if trying to hold onto something that had already slipped away.

  John blinked, coming back to the moment. “Same old shit,” he said with a tired smile. “Every time I look into those eyes, memories start showing up like some forgotten love story.”

  She let out a soft, breathy laugh—but her eyes were already glassy. “You still know how to flirt, Jo. But you never learned what I really needed… what I always needed.”

  John glanced around the café. There were couples at every corner—some laughing, others bent in tense conversation. One pair sat in silence, the girl crying as the boy looked away.

  He picked up his cup, took a sip, and placed it down with a soft clink.

  “Maybe I do know,” he said quietly. “Maybe I’m just not sure what to do with it.”

  She tilted her head, watching him. “What does that even mean?”

  John leaned back, exhaling. “Did it ever cross your mind that I wasn’t hiding things from you because I wanted to… but because even I don’t have the answers yet?”

  She didn’t answer. Her fingers tightened slightly around the cup.

  John gave a faint smile, trying to break the weight in the air. “The tea’s good,” he said softly. Then, after a beat, he looked at her again—not just her eyes, but the soft line of her smile, the way she carried years of weight in her posture. “And you… How do you manage to do this?”

  She offered a quiet laugh. “Do what?”

  “Keep being more beautiful than the last time I saw you,” he said. “You’ve been doing it every damn time.”

  She turned her gaze away, but the smile lingered. “You’re flirting again.”

  He shook his head. “No. Just stating facts.”

  Silence settled again, not awkward—but full.

  “That’s why you’re here?” she asked, her voice lower now. “To say things like that?”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “No,” he said, leaning forward, his arms resting on the table. “I didn’t come here for tea… or small talk. I just… I needed to see you. That’s all.”

  She blinked, slow and long, lashes damp.

  “And now that you’ve seen me?” she whispered. “What next?”

  John looked down at his empty cup, then out the window at the blinking lights of departing flights. “I don’t know,” he said. “Back home, maybe.”

  “Maybe,” she echoed, her voice barely above a breath.

  “Yeah,” he said, forcing a crooked smile. “Nothing’s certain in my life anymore.”

  He looked up again, met her gaze, and held it.

  “Except you.”

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  “Ichaaya…” the girl murmured softly, her fingers gently brushing through the boy’s hair as he lay in her lap.

  “Hm?” He tilted his head up to look at her, a lazy, warm smile tugging at his lips.

  “You know Aruna—the knight girl?” she said, eyes still scanning the black flower field around them. “She told me you built this whole garden just for me.”

  They were sitting in a secluded pavilion, nestled at the heart of a vast ocean of black flowers. The soft white glow of floating lanterns shimmered above them, melting into the narrow canals that weaved like silver veins through the garden. Beyond the quiet hush of the water and the faint silhouettes of other distant pavilions, nothing disturbed the view. It was flowers—only flowers—all around.

  Anweshi smiled as she looked out into that sea of shadowed beauty. “Sitting here, I can’t even see the palace. It’s like it vanished.”

  “Did my little butterfly like it that much?” he asked, lifting himself slightly, resting his chin on her thigh. His smile was soft, full of affection.

  “A lot,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “You know, Anu…” He sat up a little more, meeting her eyes—those clear, deep blue eyes. “I started building this garden the day you told me your dream was to have a home with a field of flowers… somewhere peaceful. You said it in passing, back then. During that school project. Two years ago.”

  Her brows lifted. “I said that?”

  “You did. Just once. But it stuck.” He smiled again, but this one was tinged with something heavier—something distant. “Then… when my mother passed, my little brothers and sisters started spending more time here. They loved it too much. Even when I thought of stopping the work, I couldn’t.”

  He picked up a glass of wine resting beside him, swirling it gently before taking a slow sip. The red liquid caught the pale light and turned it darker.

  “I was afraid,” Anweshi said suddenly, her voice softer now. “Afraid they wouldn’t accept me. That I’d always feel like a stranger… like some outsider in a place I don’t belong.”

  He watched her quietly as she spoke.

  “I wonder if I’ll ever be a good big sister to them,” she continued. “I don’t have stories to tell them like you do. I don’t know how to teach them anything useful. And even Adina—she’s five, and already stronger than me.”

  His hand reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “You underestimate yourself,” he said gently.

  Then, with a playful grin, he added, “But I do have another fear.”

  “Oh?”

  He raised the glass toward her like making a toast. “I’m afraid they’ll abandon the Obsidian Palace altogether and move in here—to your palace. The one I built for a blue-eyed butterfly who wanted to bring light into the Shadow Realm.”

  He laughed, the sound rich and amused. “Father’s going to love that.”

  Anweshi laughed too, but her gaze lingered on him—loving, and a little lost.

  “Even if the light fades,” she whispered, “I’ll remember this garden.”

  He reached for her hand. Held it gently.

  “It won’t fade,” he said. “Not as long as you’re here.”

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The sky outside had dimmed. The sun, now hidden behind a blanket of heavy clouds, cast a grey hush over the airport parking lot. A soft breeze moved through the trees, tugging at leaves and loose strands of hair alike.

  John stepped out of the café, his shoulders slightly slouched, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. A few paces ahead of him, Aaradhya walked slowly toward the hostel. She didn’t turn back. She didn’t need to. The silence between them had already said everything.

  By the car, Varun leaned casually against the door, arms crossed. His eyes flicked toward Aaradhya, then back to John.

  “She cried, didn’t she?” he asked quietly, not mocking—just stating.

  John nodded, still watching her disappear into the crowd. “I couldn’t stop it.”

  Varun studied him for a long moment, then looked away, his jaw tightening. “Every time I see she walk away like that” he muttered, “I want to just beat the shit out of you, Just to make you teach how to give up on your stupid ego.”

  “I think she feels the same thing” John murmured, almost to himself.

  Varun exhaled through his nose, a tired sound. “Why don’t you just try? Settle things. Fix it.”

  John turned, finally meeting Varun’s eyes. His expression was somewhere between frustration and helplessness.

  “How?” he said, voice low but edged with pain. “just tell me, how, Varun? If I know the truth she was asking, maybe—just maybe—I could convince her. But even then…” He shook his head. “My life doesn’t change. It stays same. Unpredictable.”

  He looked up at the sky, as if searching for an answer in the clouds, then added, “She’s a butterfly, you know? With deep blue eyes to hide an entire ocean in them. And wings—fragile as the softest petal of a flower. One harsh touch, and she’ll break. She deserves better than me.”

  Shiva leaned off the car, walking around to the driver’s side. “Butterfly with blue eyes, flower-petal wings…” He glanced over his shoulder with a crooked grin. “You always had a poetic side, didn’t you?”

  “Desperate times,” John replied, smirking faintly. “Desperate words.”

  For a moment, they both chuckled. It didn’t last.

  Shiva opened the driver’s door. “Back home?”

  John stared at the empty street for a beat too long, then shook his head.

  “Back home.”

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The beach was empty. The sun hovered low over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and blood. The waves came rushing in like they had for millennia, and left again — like a child playing a game he never grew tired of.

  A boy and a girl — both sixteen — sat together in silence, the world around them slowly dimming as the light surrendered to the sea.

  “What are you going to do after this?” the girl asked, her voice soft, nearly drowned in the wind.

  “We’ve finished tenth. What next?”

  The boy didn’t look at her. His eyes were lost somewhere between the ocean and the fire in the sky.

  “I’m going back home,” he said quietly. “I came here because my mother wanted me to. She’s gone now. I stayed for another year, trying to keep the promise… but now, I just want to go back. Back to my siblings. My people.”

  “Back home,” she echoed, the words heavy with something unspoken.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “I’ve got a thousand things in mind,” she murmured. “But the orphanage doesn’t feel like home anymore. Two more years, and I’m out of there. After that… study, maybe. But honestly? I don’t know.”

  He gave a small smile, glancing at her sideways. “I don’t think they’ll let you back into the hostel tonight. You’re hours past curfew.”

  “Yeah, I figured,” she said with a faint laugh — but there was sadness curled beneath it.

  “Anu,” he said, turning toward her fully now. “I fight a lot, yeah. But not because I’m angry or ill-mannered. Where I come from, it’s just… the way we do things.”

  “I know,” she replied gently. “You told me that years ago.”

  “Let me finish.” His hand found hers. He didn’t grip it tightly — just held it, like something fragile.

  “Only you know that part of me. Back then, I didn’t even realize how much I was telling you. But looking back… I think I wanted you to know.”

  He paused.

  “My world — it’s strange by your standards. Harsh. Ancient. But it’s beautiful, too. In a thousand ways you can’t imagine.”

  He stood up, his knees brushing off the sand.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, amused and a little puzzled.

  “I don’t know,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I saw this in your movies. I think this is how they do it.”

  He held out his hand. “So stand up.”

  “What?”

  “I’m a Crowned Prince. I’m not supposed to kneel before anyone but my father,” he said with a crooked smile. “So please. Stand up. Fast.”

  She laughed through her confusion — but stood.

  Then, in his palm, a swirling black smoke coiled into life — twisting, whispering — and from it, a ring began to form. A small, simple band, carved from something ancient and dark, like it held echoes of another world.

  “No…” she whispered, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. Her lips quivered — caught between smiling and breaking.

  “Don’t interrupt,” he said, gently but firmly. “I practiced this in my head.”

  She nodded, trying to steady herself as the wind around them grew louder.

  He looked into her eyes — eyes that had seen him at his worst, and still stayed.

  “I, Adam John Black — firstborn of Emperor Ishuah John Black — Crowned Prince of the Shadow Empire… I stand before you not as royalty, but as a fool who fell for a girl from another world.”

  He smiled, a laugh caught in the back of his throat.

  “There are a hundred princesses waiting to marry me. Daughters of kings. Heirs to ancient bloodlines. But none of them… none of them are you.”

  He stepped closer.

  “So Anweshi Agustin — there is an empire waiting for its future queen. A palace waiting to echo your name. My siblings… waiting to meet their big sister. My father, waiting for his daughter by law. And me — just a boy, waiting for the girl he loves.”

  He held the ring gently before her.

  “In our world, sixteen is old enough. And you are sixteen, so.”

  He smiled, tears in his eyes.

  “Will you marry me?”

  She stared at him, her breath trembling. “I… I’m not a princess. I love you, Ichaya. I really do. But I don’t know if I’m—”

  He interrupted softly, “Simple question.”

  He leaned in.

  “Do you want to live the rest of your life with me?”

  A pause.

  Then — through joy and tears — “I do.”

  He slid the ring onto her finger.

  “Then it’s settled,” he whispered.

  He pulled her into his arms. A low wind began to circle them, and with it came the black smoke — curling around their feet, rising with every heartbeat.

  “I’m not ready,” she whispered, breathless.

  “You look beautiful enough,” he said.

  And then — the smoke rose like a storm.

  It swallowed them whole.

  And when it cleared… they were gone.

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Dawn was breaking.

  The night sky, once buried in shadow, cracked open with strokes of deep orange and fading violet. The first light of sun stretched quietly across the slumbering city, reaching like fingers through the misty skyline. Shadows pulled back into alleys and corners. The sharp white beams of streetlamps flickered once, twice—and vanished.

  The highway near the college was nearly empty, painted with the golden wash of the rising sun. A few cabs passed with a low hum. A stray dog crossed the road lazily. The world was waking up. But inside John, everything still felt frozen.

  Their car was pulled over just off the main road. Varun stood outside, leaning toward a jogger, asking something in a hurried voice. The man just shrugged, offered a tired “Sorry, no idea,” and kept running.

  John sat behind the wheel, his eyes locked on the map glowing in the dark of his phone screen. His thumb dragged, pinched, zoomed in and out as if he could force the device to show her—just one signal, one dot, anything. But there was nothing. Only roads. Only empty.

  Varun opened the car door and slid back into the passenger seat with a heavy exhale.

  “He doesn’t know either,” he muttered, shutting the door harder than he meant to.

  John lifted his gaze from the screen, his face pale, drawn. His lips were pressed tight like he was swallowing something sharp.

  “Where did she go this morning?” Varun asked quietly, gently.

  “I don’t know,” John said, voice cracking slightly. “She wasn’t in the hostel. The warden says she never came back. Her phone’s off. Her friends haven’t seen her. It’s like she just… disappeared.”

  His jaw clenched. He looked away, blinking too fast.

  “I can’t pin her. I can’t even feel where she is.”

  “Let’s just drive around a bit,” Varun offered, almost as a last-ditch hope. “Maybe she’s somewhere nearby. Maybe she just—”

  “I feel it,” John interrupted, barely a whisper. His breathing hitched. “Something’s wrong.”

  Varun turned to him, brows knitting. “Jo—”

  “No, listen.” John gripped the wheel tighter. His voice was trembling now. “It’s not just fear. It’s not my imagination. Something’s happening to her. I know it.”

  There was silence for a moment. The city stretched around them like a stage before the show starts—waiting, uncertain.

  Varun reached out and rested a hand on John’s shoulder. “She’s strong. Nothing’s gonna happen to her. We’ll find her.”

  John didn’t reply.

  He just started the engine.

  The car rumbled to life, headlights cutting into the gold-stained road ahead.

  “Then let’s drive,” he said, low and firm. “We drive till we find her.”

  The black SUV rolled forward into the rising light, disappearing into the endless morning roads.

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The war tent stood like a throne in the middle of the dark encampment — large, circular, and meticulously arranged with the grace of ancient royalty. Rich black banners embroidered with silver thread hung from the inner walls. A massive round table dominated the center, ringed with eighteen empty chairs carved from obsidian and bone.

  Only one was occupied.

  Adam sat at its head, cloaked in his usual attire — a seamless black suit that absorbed the light around it like a living void. Behind him stood a towering knight clad in full armor black as pitch. On his chest, five red blade-tips painted in a downward fan — the mark of a Knight Commander.

  They were finishing the arrangement of the war map when it happened.

  The air in front of Adam shivered. A low hum echoed, ancient and cold, as a black ring carved with glowing runes appeared — floating, spinning slowly in the space above his open palm.

  A marriage ring.

  The sacred bond of the Shadow Empire.

  But this one buzzed with violent energy — the glyphs flaring as if burning.

  The room fell still.

  Adam raised his hand, catching the ring gently. His eyes didn’t move, but the silence around him thickened.

  The knight behind him stepped forward, voice low and wary. “Your Highness… that is not a good sign.”

  Adam didn’t answer.

  The knight continued carefully, “The Holy Ring only seeks its counterpart when its bearer is in mortal danger.”

  “I know,” Adam said quietly — more to himself than anyone else.

  The Knight Commander, Sir Batrice, hesitated. “The Princess…”

  Adam finally stood.

  His movement was slow, controlled — but the moment he rose, the shadows in the room stirred. His black coat unfurled around him like a living tide, whispering across the floor like the edge of a storm.

  “She’s in her world,” Adam said, his voice calm… too calm.

  A flicker of darkness pulsed at his feet.

  “Tell my father,” he added, stepping forward, “I’ll return in a few days.”

  Sir Batrice’s throat tightened. He bowed low, his voice shaking. “Yes, my lord.”

  Because he knew.

  He knew what Adam became when rage broke past reason. He had seen kingdoms tremble for less.

  In front of Adam, the air twisted.

  Reality bent inward on itself, folding like a mirror cracking without sound. From the fracture bloomed a circular gate — ancient, swirling with black and violet mist.

  A portal.

  A bridge between worlds.

  Adam stepped toward it.

  No army. No entourage. Just the prince. And the wrath that followed him like a silent god.

  The knight remained behind, head still bowed, whispering what others dared not speak aloud.

  “Gods help whoever stands in his way.”

  And then — Adam vanished through the gate.

  The shadows closed behind him.

  the Black siblings.

  The calm, dutiful presence of a knight who carries loyalty like a sword.

  More siblings. More debts. More oaths yet to be broken.

  Your support keeps this world breathing.

  Black