Chapter 4: A Crown’s Price

Callen’s thoughts were an endless storm as he walked out of his father’s chambers. The flickering light from the sconces lining the corridor mirrored the turmoil brewing inside him—sharp, consuming, and impossible to ignore. Alex’s words echoed in his mind, louder with every step: “Show me you are ready to lead. Prove to me you are more than a boy chasing the crown.”

On the surface, the task seemed simple enough: deliver Eira to the mysterious man, someone Alex claimed could help her control her powers. But Callen’s heart was weighted with doubt, the knot tightening with each heartbeat. He hadn’t missed the cryptic edge to his father’s tone—the way Alex spoke of another girl, one with fiery energy who had been “taken.” The truth behind those words felt deliberately shrouded, leaving Callen unsettled. How could Alex dismiss her fate so easily, reducing her existence to nothing more than a lesson?

“It’s all for the kingdom,” Callen thought, repeating the mantra his father had instilled in him since childhood. But the words tasted hollow now. Was he truly doing this for the kingdom? Or was he doing it for himself—another move on the chessboard to prove his worth? Callen clenched his fists as he wrestled with the thought. The crown wasn’t just an aspiration to him; it was his purpose, his validation. Without it, what was he?

Then there was Eira. Her face lingered in his mind—tear-streaked, defiant, yet vulnerable in a way that stirred the guilt he had been trying to suppress. She trusted him, relied on him as the one stable presence in her life, and now he would betray that trust. But his father’s voice returned, sharp and commanding: “Protect her, even if it means deceiving her.” Callen had always followed Alex’s orders, but this time felt different. This wasn’t just a calculated maneuver; this was personal.

Callen’s gaze flickered to the frost tracing the edges of the palace walls as he walked. Eira’s powers were growing stronger, no longer restrained by the delicate balance she had tried so hard to maintain. He had seen her struggle to hide them, had watched the fear in her eyes as her father’s disdain grew. But Callen also saw something Alex refused to acknowledge—her strength, her resilience. Eira wasn’t just a danger; she was extraordinary, and that realization only deepened Callen’s guilt.

But guilt didn’t change the reality of his situation. If he wanted to be king, he needed Alex’s approval, and Alex had made it clear that this task was his proving ground. The crown was worth the sacrifice, wasn’t it? Callen couldn’t afford to falter now. He had spent his life molding himself into the successor Alex demanded, setting aside his own desires for the greater ambition. And yet, as he prepared to face Eira, doubt gnawed at his resolve. What if his decision cost him something far more valuable than the throne?

The weight of his conflicting emotions—ambition, guilt, and loyalty—pressed down on Callen, leaving him feeling like a pawn in a game far larger than himself. He wanted to believe he was in control, but the shadow of his father loomed too large, and the echoes of the girl who had been “taken” reminded him of how precarious his position truly was. As Callen approached Eira’s room, his jaw tightened, his mind bracing for the consequences of the choices he had made—or perhaps for the choices he didn’t yet understand.

Callen’s guilt was like a shadow that refused to leave, stretching across every step he took toward Eira’s chambers. He had always been good at compartmentalizing, at convincing himself that the ends justified the means. But tonight, the burden felt heavier than ever. His father’s words echoed in his mind, cold and calculated: “Protect her, even if it means deceiving her.” Protecting Eira should have brought him solace, but it didn’t—not when the protection was built on betrayal.

He paused in the dimly lit corridor, his hand resting against the cold stone wall. His mind raced with memories—of Eira as a child, laughing as she clung to his arm, her icy eyes wide with trust. She had always trusted him, relied on him in ways no one else did. And now he would shatter that trust, trading it for a chance to prove himself worthy of the crown.

“You’re doing this for the kingdom,” he reminded himself. It was what Alex had said. It was what Callen wanted to believe. If Eira’s powers went unchecked, she could become a threat not just to the kingdom but to herself. Delivering her to the mysterious man wasn’t just an act of loyalty to Alex—it was the logical choice. And yet, logic did little to silence the gnawing pit in his stomach.

Callen clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. For years, he had chased the idea of being king, of earning his father’s approval. The crown was his destiny, the validation he craved. But was it worth this? Was it worth seeing the betrayal in Eira’s eyes, the disbelief that would surely haunt him?

He thought of what Alex had told him about the other girl, the one who had been “taken.” The story had been vague, shrouded in omissions, but the warning was clear. Power like Eira’s—and, presumably, hers—was dangerous. Callen didn’t doubt the truth of that, but the way Alex had spoken of her, as though she were nothing more than a tool, unsettled him. Eira was more than her powers. She was his sister, someone who had endured rejection and pain in silence, always doing her best to belong in a world that feared her.

As he stood outside her door, the weight of the moment pressed down on him. His fingers hovered over the handle, his breath shallow. He told himself that this was for her own good, that one day she would understand. But even as the thought crossed his mind, it felt hollow. The truth was, he wasn’t sure he could face her—not without feeling the full brunt of his guilt.

Callen leaned his forehead against the door, his eyes closing briefly. He couldn’t turn back now. To hesitate was to fail, and failure wasn’t an option. He was the heir to the throne, the one who would prove himself capable of ruling where others could not. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? To be king? To have his father look at him with pride instead of scrutiny?

But the image of Eira’s tear-streaked face lingered, a reminder of what his ambition might cost him. “You’ll hate me for this,” he whispered under his breath. “But I’ll hate myself more if I fail.”

With a deep breath, Callen steeled himself and opened the door, stepping into the room where his sister waited, unaware of the betrayal he carried. His heart was heavy, and the path ahead felt darker than ever—but he would follow it, even if it led him to ruin.