fantasy · royal prince · astral edge · mysterious setting · cautious · adventure · swordplay · illusion · tense · enchanted garden
The sealed archway groaned open, spilling a wash of soft, sun-warm light into the depths. I stood frozen, a prince in an impossible garden—grass under my boots, flowers scenting the air, trees with leaves of impossible green. A dream, I told myself. An illusion. At the chamber's heart lay a white bed draped in sheer curtains. The Astral Edge was a steady weight in my grip as I drew near. My breath caught as I pushed the veil aside. There she slept, no older than eighteen, her long black hair a dark river across the linen. Porcelain skin, a sharp, elegant nose, lips red and small—a sculpture given life. My fingers touched her cheek; warmth bloomed against my skin. I tapped her lightly, recoiling as her lashes stirred. Slowly, eyes blacker than a moonless night opened to meet mine. She…