The Stolen Heir’s Bond

The capital was alive with noise and movement, but Kael only saw the threats. Guards patrolling the streets. Wanted posters fluttering in the wind. Hooded figures slipping into alleys, their eyes lingering a second too long.

Every step they took deeper into the city felt like walking a razor's edge.

Elaria kept her hood low as they moved through the crowded market square. "Alright, fearless leader," she muttered. "Where exactly are we going?"

Kael didn't answer immediately. He was thinking.

His father had been a warrior, a general, a legend. If he was alive, he wouldn't be living in the open. He would be somewhere hidden—somewhere people spoke in hushed tones, afraid to even whisper his name.

Kael's eyes drifted toward a nearby tavern. The sign above the door was worn, barely legible. But the symbol carved into the wood—a blade entwined with vines—was unmistakable.

The Mark of the Forgotten.

Kael had seen it before, in old war records. It belonged to the rebels who had once fought for the lost king.

His father's men.

"This way," Kael murmured, heading for the door.

Elaria grabbed his sleeve. "Are you insane? Walking into a den of criminals isn't exactly a great plan."

Kael met her gaze. "They fought for my father. If anyone knows where he is, it's them."

Elaria sighed. "Fine. But if we get stabbed, I'm haunting you."

Kael smirked. "Noted."

They stepped inside, and immediately, the atmosphere shifted.

The tavern was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of ale and smoke. Conversations quieted as strangers took in their presence—measuring, judging.

Kael kept his posture relaxed, his hand near his hidden blade. He could feel the weight of suspicion in the air.

Then—

A grizzled man at the bar narrowed his eyes. "You've got a death wish, boy, walking in here with that face."

Kael tensed.

The man leaned forward, voice low. "You look just like him."

The room stilled.

Kael's heart pounded. He knew.

Elaria barely breathed beside him.

Kael met the man's gaze and said the only thing that mattered.

"Where is my father?"

The silence shattered.

Chairs scraped back. Hands moved to weapons. The tavern's tension turned dangerous.

And then—

The man smirked. "You really don't know, do you?"

Kael's blood ran cold.

And before he could demand an answer, the man said:

"Your father isn't hiding. He's imprisoned beneath the palace."