The festival grounds were alive with a spectacle of lights and sounds. Fire-lit lanterns swayed gently in the night breeze, casting long, flickering shadows over the bustling crowd. Musicians played an upbeat tune on flutes and lutes, while vendors called out their wares—fresh roasted nuts, candied apples, and steaming spiced cider. The scent of charred meat and sweet confections mixed into the crisp air, making the entire setting feel warm despite the cool night.

  The grand stage in the city's central plaza was adorned with golden banners bearing the Garland crest. The performance was the highlight of the festival, a reenactment of King Garland's legendary conquest. The actors, draped in elaborate costumes, moved with practiced grace, their every motion choreographed to match the rhythmic pounding of ceremonial drums. Kane stood beside me, his excitement barely contained as he took his position among the other performers.

  I followed suit, mimicking their movements as best as I could while scanning my surroundings for any sign of suspicion. The audience roared as the play's climactic battle unfolded—actors clashed swords in a dazzling display of rehearsed combat, sparks flying as metal met metal. The "shadows"—those of us playing the king's spectral warriors—moved eerily behind the actors, creating a ghostly, ethereal effect that captivated the audience.

  Everything was going smoothly until one of the directors in the crowd tilted his head, his brows furrowed in confusion. I tensed as he whispered to a nearby assistant. "Something's off," he muttered. "We have one too many shadows. We will see who the fake in after the performance in King Garlands chambers"

  I swallowed hard and kept moving, forcing myself to stay in character. If they found me out now, my mission would end before it had even begun.

  The final act concluded with an eruption of cheers, the crowd rising to their feet in applause. Kane grinned at me, clearly satisfied with his performance. "That was incredible! Did you see how they reacted?" he whispered excitedly as the performers were ushered toward the palace.

  I barely acknowledged him, my mind already on the next step. We were being taken straight to King Garland—a perfect opportunity, but also the most dangerous part of the night.

  As we walked through the grand halls, a teacher led us in a single-file line toward the throne room. The corridors were lined with torches that flickered against deep red banners, the golden insignia of the Garland family embroidered into the fabric. My heart pounded, but I maintained my composure. I reached into my sleeve, fingers brushing against the small needle I had prepared, already dipped in the sedative.

  The performer in front of me, a lanky boy with nervous energy, shifted uncomfortably. I took advantage of the moment. A slight movement, a carefully placed prick to his exposed wrist, and it was done. He flinched, rubbing at the spot absentmindedly before his shoulders sagged. His eyes glazed over slightly, and I leaned in close, whispering, "Stay quiet and follow my lead."

  Before we reached the throne room, the teacher suddenly paused, scrutinizing the group. "Wait a moment," he said, eyes narrowing. "You! You weren't supposed to be here."

  Everyone turned to the boy in front of me. He blinked sluggishly, struggling to process the accusation.

  "I—I just wanted to perform," he mumbled.

  The guards immediately moved in, dragging him away as he weakly protested. The tension in my chest finally eased. They had found their imposter, and I was safe. For now.

  After the performance, I slipped away under the pretense of needing fresh air. Moving through the halls, I studied my surroundings carefully. Every detail of the palace would be useful later.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  I stopped before an enormous tapestry draped across one of the walls, illuminated by a pair of golden candelabras. It depicted a battle scene—King Garland at its center, surrounded by monstrous, living shadows. My breath hitched.

  The "shadows" in the play weren't just symbolic. They were real.

  Tracing my fingers over the fabric, I examined the details. The placement of the moon in the scene caught my attention—full and bright, casting an eerie glow over the battlefield. My mind raced as I pieced it together. If King Garland could control shadows, it likely wasn't constant. It had to be tied to the full moon.

  Tomorrow.

  The realization hit like a bolt of lightning. Tomorrow night was a full moon. If Garland intended to use his powers, Kirk would be defenseless against him. I had no choice—I had to kill him tonight.

  I turned away from the tapestry, my mission now crystal clear.

  I maneuvered my way back through the halls, my head buzzing with the weight of what I had just learned. As I approached the exit, a familiar voice stopped me cold.

  "You there."

  I turned slowly, locking eyes with Prince Alistair. He studied me with sharp curiosity, his gaze narrowing. "Your mana... it feels familiar."

  My blood ran cold. Had he sensed it earlier? Had I been too reckless? I braced myself to either talk my way out or prepare for combat, but before I could do either, a small voice interrupted.

  "Big brother, you're acting strange again," a young girl whined, stepping out from behind him. His younger sister.

  Alistair hesitated, looking down at her as she frowned. "Father told you not to be so paranoid about everything. Just because you're the prince doesn't mean everyone's out to get you."

  Her words worked instantly. Alistair sighed, shaking his head, but his suspicion didn't fade completely. "Maybe you're right... but something isn't sitting right with me."

  Before he could say anything else, the grand doors to the throne room creaked open. King Garland's booming voice echoed through the hall. "Enough dawdling. Everyone, return to your chambers."

  Alistair shot me one last look before turning away.

  I exhaled silently, slipping back into the shadows. Tonight would be the night Garland fell.

  Moving with precision, I navigated through the winding corridors of the palace, my portal magic making it effortless to bypass locked doors and patrolling guards. The castle was eerily quiet at this hour, the only sounds being the faint crackling of torches and the occasional murmurs of half-asleep sentries. Every step I took was measured, every breath controlled. There could be no mistakes.

  The King's study was at the heart of the castle, tucked away behind layers of security. But I had spent enough time studying its layout to know the secret pathways and blind spots. As I clung to the ceiling's wooden beams, I spotted King Garland below, seated at his desk, lost in thought as he examined a stack of documents. His brow furrowed in concentration, unaware of the danger lurking above.

  I waited, my blade ready. A simple strike to the throat would end it in an instant. But something stopped me.

  "I know you're there," he said without looking up. His voice was calm, unwavering. "Come down."

  I hesitated. He hadn't sounded alarmed or afraid—if anything, he seemed prepared. Slowly, I dropped down, landing lightly on my feet. My hood remained up, shadowing my face, but it was clear he already knew who I was.

  "You're here on your father's orders, aren't you?" he asked, finally meeting my gaze. "I expected as much."

  I said nothing. There was no point in denying it.

  Garland leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his chest. "Do you even know why he sent you?"

  "I know enough," I replied flatly. "You plan to invade Kirk."

  He exhaled through his nose, nodding. "That is correct. But your father will benefit from it more than anyone. Our true target is King Creat's kingdom. The Creat Kingdom sits on the border, and my people are outgrowing our lands. If I don't expand, our nation will collapse."

  His explanation meant nothing to me. I had my mission.

  "I don't care about your reasons," I said, tightening my grip on my dagger. "I'm here to finish this."

  Garland chuckled. "You are truly your father's daughter."

  I narrowed my eyes. "I'm giving you a chance to fight back. I'm not a fan of killing in cold blood."

  He raised an eyebrow. "A rare quality for a Belfour."

  I ignored the comment and opened a portal beside us. He eyed it warily.

  "A trap?" he asked.

  "If it were, you'd already be dead," I said. "We fight on even ground."

  He studied me for a long moment before standing. "Very well."

  Without hesitation, he stepped through the portal first. I followed.

  We emerged in a dense forest, the moonlight filtering through the branches, casting long shadows over the clearing. The night was still, as if the world itself was waiting for the battle to begin.

  I unsheathed my blade. Garland rolled his shoulders, his stance shifting.

  This was it.

  The fight was about to begin.