Run away from castle

Ninsula sat before her grand mirror, her soft black hair cascading down her back while the maids carefully brushed and adorned her. Layers of silken fabric in pale ivory and sky-blue were draped across her slender frame—an ornate gown heavy with embroidery, pearls, and flowing sleeves. One maid adjusted her jeweled hairpin while another tied the sash around her waist.

Thud! 

Suddenly, the doors burst open.
Princess Rose, with her striking dark-red hair tumbling like fire and her mischievous emerald eyes sparkling, stormed into the chamber. Her smile was wicked, playful—one that always spelled trouble. She swept forward, placing her hands on Ninsula’s shoulders, and bent down to whisper in her ear:
“Everyone’s away today—most of the guards have gone to the back route for special training. We’ve only got a little time, so come quickly! It’s our chance to escape for a while.”
The maids gasped softly at Rose’s audacity, but before they could react, Rose straightened and clapped her hands. “All of you—leave us. Now.” Her tone carried the confidence of one born royal; the daughter of the King’s younger brother, she was loved and spoiled, and no maid dared defy her.
As the chamber emptied, Rose turned back to her cousin with a grin. “Come on, Ninsula. You’ve been locked inside these walls for far too long. Let’s have some fun.”
Ninsula’s sapphire-blue eyes lit up. Her heart beat faster. From childhood, Rose had been her partner in every bit of mischief—though Ninsula herself was always held back, sheltered, never allowed to freely step outside. Today felt different. Today, she couldn’t resist.
She stood quickly, tugging at the heavy gown, slipping out of its grand outer layers until she was left in a lighter underdress—a soft knee-length tunic of pale blue with fitted sleeves, paired with leather riding boots Rose had smuggled in for her. It felt strange, almost liberating, to stand without the weight of royal embroidery.
Her face shone with pure excitement as she grabbed Rose’s hand. Without hesitation, the two princesses dashed into the corridor, their laughter echoing softly as they played a dangerous game of hide-and-seek with passing guards and servants. Every turn, every narrow escape, made Ninsula’s heart race. For once, she was not the King’s precious daughter, but simply a girl running free.
—
Far away, in the King’s private chamber, silence reigned.
He stood near the tall window, shadows pooling around him. His once-bright blue eyes had dimmed, weighed down by years of sorrow. In his hand, he held an old drawing—a delicate sketch of his late queen, drawn long ago with his own hand. His thumb brushed over the lines of her face, as if trying to feel her presence again.
Memories rushed through him—the warmth of her voice, her laughter, the gentleness with which she had once touched his cheek. And then, the most bitter memory of all: her final moments. She had given her life when Ninsula was born, smiling weakly as she whispered for him to protect their daughter.
He looked at the drawing again, and the resemblance was haunting. Ninsula had grown into her mother’s mirror—her same eyes, her same smile. The King’s chest ached. He closed his eyes, fighting the sting of grief.
A sudden knock at the door startled him. He quickly set the sketch aside, straightened his shoulders, and donned the mask of a king once more.
“Enter,” he commanded.
A soldier rushed in, face pale with urgency. He dropped to one knee.“Your Highness… the princess. Princess Ninsula… she is not in her chambers.”
The King’s breath caught, his heart stilling. For a long moment, he did not move, only stared with wide eyes, as if the world itself had stopped around him.
The market was alive with chatter and color, lanterns swaying above stalls heavy with spices, fruits, and trinkets. In the middle of it all, two girls ran breathlessly through the crowd, their laughter ringing out like bells.
Both wore plain dresses now, their hair tucked beneath wide straw hats. They clutched each other’s hands tightly, stealing moments of freedom as if the whole world belonged to them.
“Look at that one!” Rose squealed, dragging Ninsula toward a stall where skewers of roasted meat sizzled over an open flame. They shared the food, their mouths full, eyes sparkling with joy.
For today, they weren’t princesses of royal blood. They were simply girls, mischievous and free.
But as the sun began to set, the shouts of soldiers echoed down the streets. Royal guards fanned out across the market, searching every stall, every alley.“They’re looking for me,” Ninsula whispered, her smile faltering for a moment.“Then we’d better make sure they don’t find you,” Rose grinned, tugging her hand. The two of them darted away, slipping into the forest beyond the market’s edge.

The air grew cooler as the trees closed in around them. Rose’s fiery red hair glimmered in the dimming light as she leaned close, whispering, “You’ve run away from the castle, Ninsula. Aren’t you supposed to have a guardian? Why didn’t he stop you?”
At that, Ninsula’s expression shifted. Her sapphire eyes dimmed just a little, and she pouted softly put hands on her hips. “I don’t know… Sometimes he appears out of nowhere, sometimes he vanishes like smoke. He never speaks unless it’s necessary. Don’t worry, Rose. He won’t come now.”
Rose squeezed her hand, her mischievous smile returning. “Good. Then it’s just us. Come on—I’ll show you something better than all the markets in the world. There’s a place called the Pearl Lake, a legendary spot. Let’s see it before they drag us back.”
Pushing through tangled bushes, climbing over rocks, the girls finally broke through into a clearing.
And there it was.
A vast lake stretched before them, dark and deep, its surface shimmering like glass. The water reflected the violet hues of the evening sky, and fireflies flickered across the air, little stars dancing around them.
Both girls gasped, their eyes wide with wonder. They ran to the water’s edge, their reflections rippling back at them, before collapsing onto the grass in awe.
Ninsula lay back, her long white hair spilling like silk across the green, her sapphire eyes reflecting the glow of the fireflies.“Thank you, Rose,” she whispered, her voice soft but full of emotion. “I’ll never forget this day. For once, I feel… free.”
Rose smiled beside her, but Ninsula’s words did not stop.“I don’t know why Father insists I stay locked in the castle. It’s as if he thinks the outside world will eat me alive. And I can already see his face when we return. Hah… so grumpy, with a lecture that’ll last until sunrise.”
The girls laughed together, their giggles mixing with the rustle of leaves and the hum of nightfall.
Russle… russle…Cawww…
The sound broke the spell.
A voice, smooth yet laced with malice, rang out from the shadows.“Well, well… so the princess does know how to enjoy herself.”
Both girls froze, standing instantly. From the treeline emerged a tall figure with long black hair, his presence radiating arrogance. His eyes were inhuman—pupils as white as bone, surrounded by solid black, the unmistakable mark of the Hagen tribe.
Behind him, soldiers melted from the shadows, their armor dark, their weapons gleaming.
The man stepped forward, lips curling into a smirk that was more a threat than a smile.He was the crown prince of the Hagen tribe—Kaelith.
Rose immediately moved in front of Ninsula, her emerald eyes blazing. “What do you want? Our kingdom gave your tribe refuge. Is this how you repay us—with arrogance? This is Princess Ninsula—you’d better leave now.”
Kaelith chuckled darkly, and with a flick of his finger, a pulse of black energy slammed into Rose, hurling her against a tree. She cried out as chains of shadow coiled around her, pinning her in place.
Ninsula gasped. “Rose!”
Kaelith ignored her, stepping closer until he stood before the princess. His hand rose, cold fingers brushing her chin.“Do you know, princess… there truly are people in this world who could eat someone like you alive. You should obey your father more.”
Ninsula’s eyes burned with fury as she slapped his hand away. “Put your filthy hands off me!”
He only laughed—a low, devilish sound that echoed through the clearing.“Hahaha… feisty. I like that. But don’t you see? I came here today just for you. To take you away… to tell you truths your father has kept hidden. You are more precious than you realize, Princess Ninsula. Precious enough that even shadows would bow to claim you.
Boom!Suddenly, smoke filled the air, swallowing everything in a thick haze.
Kaelith staggered, coughing, his voice sharp and furious.“Who dares—?!”
But even as he shouted, he realized both girls had already slipped away.
The true princess, Ninsula, clutched the glowing magic orbs she always carried. Rose hesitated for only a heartbeat, torn between staying and fleeing, but when Ninsula pushed her back toward the market with urgent eyes, she ran—her footsteps echoing as she searched for their soldiers.
Ninsula had no such escape. The enemy soldiers were already behind her, their voices shouting in pursuit. She ran, dodging attacks as best she could, but a searing pain cut through her knee as a blade grazed her. Blood slicked her leg, yet she pressed on, desperate.
She dared a glance behind—empty smoke, no one close—only to collide full force into someone ahead. The impact sent her crashing to the ground, her elbow scraping painfully across the stone.
Her breath froze.Standing before her was Kaelith.
But he looked nothing like a man anymore.
A black aura clung to him, curling around his body like smoke from the underworld. His eyes blazed unnaturally bright, his smile cruel and devilish as he loomed over her.
“Princess…” his voice dripped like venom. “There is no use struggling anymore.”
Ninsula scrambled back, heart hammering, terror blurring her vision—
Clack!
Steel tore through the night. A sword, shimmering with dark jade-blue light, pierced clean through Kaelith’s palm. He screamed, staggering back. Another blade cut deep into his leg, forcing him down to one knee.
“WHO THE HELL—?!” Kaelith roared in pain.
The answer came not from the ground, but above.
Two piercing violet eyes gleamed from the shadows of a high branch. Cold, unyielding. Watching.
And then, a voice, calm yet sharp enough to slice bone, broke the silence:
“Do not dare lay a hand on the princess… or I will cut it from you.”
Ninsula’s eyes widened, her heart leaping. She knew that voice—she had almost forgotten it.
Kaelith’s soldiers rushed to his side, but even he could not see the figure clearly. His pride burned hotter than his wounds as he shouted:
“I am Kaelith! Prince of the Hagen tribe! Do you understand what life you’re risking by striking me?!”
Clang!
Another sword whistled through the air and embedded itself deep into the tree beside him, so close the wind of its strike grazed his face. The force of the blow made the trunk groan.
Kaelith’s eyes widened, his breath caught. That strike… if aimed at him, would have cleaved his head clean off.
Kaelith’s breath hitched as the blade sank into the trunk, so close he could feel the steel hum beside his cheek. He dared not turn—his body locked in fear—yet from the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse: a figure standing at his side, hand steady on the hilt. Long black hair slipped forward with the wind, veiling part of a face he could not bear to meet. The dark folds of an armored robe rippled like shadowed waves, carrying a weight that silenced even the night.
On the ground, Ninsula’s wide eyes reflected his presence—not his face, but his back, tall and unwavering, a living barrier between her and danger.