The Prince Who Endured the Silence

✦ The Prince Who Endured the Silence ✦

“Some lights don’t arrive — they endure.”

By the time Kael’s flame finally roared to life,       I had already memorized a thousand failures.

Every scar, every breath, every unanswered whisper carved a deeper tunnel inside me.

So when my light finally came—
it didn’t spark.
It erupted.

All that waiting, all that silence—turned to fire and shadow.

That day changed everything.

Kael lunged. I blocked.
Desperation roared—

BOOOM!

Light and shadow exploded from my chest.

Sound folded. color inverted. heat roared through my veins—I tasted metal and ozone as the world’s light and shadow twisted around me.

BOOM—BOOM—BOOM— Heart and Heaven pulsed as one.

For one heartbeat, the Crystal Heart pulsed with mine—then everything broke.

Air warped. Trees cracked.
Ground trembled beneath us.
Aether streams shuddered like rivers struck by lightning.

The Veinfall itself flickered — rivers of Ryvane stuttering like dying stars.

Silence.

Kael froze. Lyra gasped.
The instructor whispered:

“The Prince…”

My hands trembled.

What… did I just do?

Every soldier watching me stepped back —
not from the blast.
From me.

Kael stared at me…
…and didn’t smile.
Not rivalry now.
Fear.

Somewhere beyond the noise, I thought I heard it again — that low hum from the Archive, like glass remembering my name.

Kael (inner):

If his strength grows… I must grow faster.
Otherwise, I won’t stand by him. I’ll be left behind.

He didn’t mock me anymore.
He trained harder. Hit faster.
He watched me like I could break reality again.

His silence… heavier than swords.

“Silence between us became the loudest training bell.”

Every time his flame roared, mine stayed quiet. But my steps never stopped.

Each sunrise I rose first, swung first, bled first.

If light wouldn’t choose me, I’d earn it until it couldn’t ignore me.

Days blurred. We trained until breath lost its meaning; our words turned to sparks that never caught fire.

One evening, the scholars tested my resonance in the Echo Chamber — a hollow dome lined with sigil mirrors.

When strong Ryvane flowed, the chamber sang back your frequency — your color, your element.

Kael stepped in first.
The air flared crimson — solid, confident.

Then Lyra — emerald, soft and steady as breath.

Then me.

The chamber pulsed between their colors, light fading… waiting.

Nothing.

Just quiet.

Then a faint violet shimmer — flickering like an exhausted flame.

The mirrors strained, static crawling along the runes.

Scholars exchanged glances.

“No color. No anchor. His veins don’t answer.”

“Or they’re still choosing.”

I walked out before they could finish deciding which sounded worse.

Behind the door, I laughed once — quiet, bitter.

If they couldn’t hear me, maybe the Heart would.

Ray’s voice returned.

“You’ve got me. Always.”

Then — headlights, screeching tires, blood.

I woke choking on air.

Golden towers — perfect, hollow — felt like cages.

Whispers turned to chains.

“I’ll live properly this time,” I whispered.

Shadows hissed back:

You already failed him.

Maybe they were right.
Maybe the first life wasn’t meant to be fixed — it was meant to be remembered.

If guilt is the proof I once loved, then I’ll carry it — not as chains, but as a reminder.

My reflection shimmered —
Gold → Black → Both → Wrong.

It smiled — before I did.

For a moment, its eyes reflected the moon — not mine.

“You can’t save me.”

Ray’s voice again.

I stumbled back.

“I’m not cursed. I’m not.”

The mirror disagreed.

At Age 15, every divine child enters.
Every hidden truth remembered itself.

Find your light.

They say the forest doesn’t test — it reveals what you already are.

Find your element.
Or be broken by your own shadow.

The Trial wasn’t tradition.
It was judgment.

“This time… I won’t break.”

Days before the Trial, I trained alone — not because I hoped, but because I refused to stop.

Faith is a gift; endurance is currency.
And I was done begging for either.

At night, when everyone slept, I’d sneak into the silent gardens.

The stars reflected in the marble pools looked like eyes.

Each swing of my blade blade faint trails of gold through the mist — brief, fragile.
Every time they faded, I felt smaller.

“Come on,” I whispered to the air. “Even a spark. Just once.”

Silence.
Then the faintest warmth beneath my ribs — one heartbeat too late.
It was gone before I could smile.

The faint scar on my palm glimmered once beneath the moon — a heartbeat out of sync, as if the mirror on the other side still watched.

Inner Monologue — The Patience of Gods

“They say the Heart grants light when you’re ready.

What if I never am?
What if the Heart’s waiting for something that isn’t me?”

The question sat in my ribs like lead..
I closed my eyes and breathed until the world steadied.

The breeze through the Veinfall whispered back,

“Endure.”

The word didn’t echo through the air — it echoed through my veins.

And so I did.
Sword in hand.
Breath steady.
Heart unlit — but unbroken.

Far above the palace spires, where no mortal echo could reach,
the God King opened his eyes.

Within the throne hall, light itself knelt —
Ryvane streams paused mid-flow, as if afraid to breathe.

Through the Crystal Heart’s pulse, he had heard it — a heartbeat that wasn’t Heaven’s, yet moved almost with its rhythm.

The boy.

He stood from his throne of living crystal,
the light of galaxies bending quietly around his form.

“You’ve stopped asking for light,” he murmured, voice calm as eternity.
“Good.”

He looked through the veil — past the Veinfall cliffs, past the sleeping towers —
and found the lone figure in the gardens below.

His son.

For a long moment, Tenjin said nothing.
He only watched, the pulse of the Heart reflecting faintly across his eyes.

Then, his brow furrowed — a rare crease on an otherwise unchanging face.

Something in the flow was… off.

The Ryvane within Haise moved, but not in harmony with Heaven’s pattern.

It resonated — then fell silent, as if listening to something else.

“The light answers every child,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

“Why not you?”

His voice lingered, fading between echoes of starlight and thought.

For an instant, he wondered — was it defiance? Or design?

The Heart pulsed again — one slow, uncertain rhythm, and Tenjin’s hand brushed its edge.

“Endurance is the first form of divinity.”

He spoke the words with weight — half truth, half reminder to himself.

Then, his gaze softened.

“When the world remembers you, Haise… let it see why.”

The glow dimmed. The Hall fell still.

And then — quietly, impossibly —
Tenjin’s form folded out of the throne’s light.

Not vanished, not gone — simply unwritten.
The space he occupied remembered its shape for a heartbeat…
then forgot it ever had a king.

Only the Crystal Heart remained, pulsing once —softly, reverently — as if bowing to the absence of its creator.

Half-asleep…
a whisper brushed my ear—

“Haise…?”

Ray stood beside my bed.
Warm. Familiar.

“Ray? Is it really—”

His head glitched, tilting too far…
Smile growing too wide—

“Don’t fail me again.”

His shadow split — black wings jagged like broken halos—He dissolved into dust.

Except the cold handprint on my throat — remained.

Tonight, I don’t want victory. I just want stillness.

If tomorrow brings light, I’ll meet it.
If it brings darkness, I’ll greet it the same.

The Crystal Heart pulsed —
BOOM—BOOM,
light and shadow swirling around me.

Kael’s silence.
Lyra’s touch.
Ray’s ghost.
Demons watching.

Maybe I wasn’t chosen.
Maybe I was forged.

Tomorrow — the Trial begins.

And the world will finally see:

Blessed.
Cursed.
Dangerous.

Maybe all of them.

The Heart throbbed again — violent, knowing.

Everything I waited for… finally remembered me.