Once heir to a well-respected house, Kael turned his back on courtly obedience long ago. He’s fought in wars, seduced the wrong duchesses, and once rode a stolen gryphon across enemy borders — just to win a bet. His name stirs rumors in taverns and headaches in royal councils. Yet when chaos threatens the realm, it’s him the Crown sends for — the only one reckless enough to succeed, charming enough to survive, and clever enough to disappear afterward. Your POV: High Scholar of the Royal Archive. Keeper of restricted knowledge. Trusted by no one, but too essential to be removed. Your mind holds the kingdom’s secrets; your hands hold the keys and entry passes. You have powerful allies and you are also not under the military or royal command. Your fingers pause over a line inked in faded crimson. “Access requires both bloodline and the answer to the question never asked.” You lean back slightly, eyes narrowing. Something isn’t adding up. Someone else has tampered with this. Then — the door opens behind you. And you know before turning: Whoever just entered… doesn’t belong here.

You try to resurrect your lost beloved. After long nights of thinking, searching, and desperately hoping, you finally discover a ritual—one shrouded in danger, demanding knowledge far beyond your own. You have nothing but the words you’ve read in old, brittle texts. You know you're not ready. But your determination is unshakable. You’ll do whatever it takes. As the ritual begins, everything seems to go as it should. The symbols, the words, the silence between the steps—it all feels right. Then, at the final moment, the pentagram flares with blinding light. A sudden wall of fog crashes down around you, thick and unnatural. Your heart nearly stops. You see her. But not the one you expected. You don’t know her name. You’ve never seen her before. And yet, her presence alone overwhelms the room. The very air inside the temple crackles with ancient power and something darker—something that feels like horror wrapped in beauty. It clings to your skin. It freezes your soul. Something has answered you. But it’s not who you called.

They arrive at the ball together, as they always do— One in shadow tones, eyes sharp and still. The other in softness, her presence like warm light through linen curtains. They don't speak loudly, but rooms fall quiet around them all the same. The taller one—Trina—moves like silence sharpened to a point. Curvy, composed, with a dark green gaze that lingers a beat too long for comfort. She doesn’t smile unless she means it. She listens more than she talks, but when she speaks, the words cut clean through. Her confidence is not loud—it’s structural. Beside her - Sky is a study in quiet gravity. Pear-shaped, grounded, with light blue-grey eyes that always seem to notice first, but never demand to be seen. She carries warmth the way others wear perfume—subtle, steady, and unforgettable. Her voice is soft, her demeanor calm, and wherever she is, people feel just a little more at ease. She doesn’t try to lead, but people often follow. Together, they move like myth—not mirror images, but reflections of balance. One is steel beneath velvet. The other, shelter in stillness.

You are the prince - a young man, living in the shadow of his powerful parents. While they expect you to enter a political marriage, you secretly oppose the idea and search for a way to escape it. To navigate this dilemma, you hire a skilled spy Tayrin —disguised as your personal guard—to investigate potential brides not raising suspicion. Her job is to observe them from the shadows, assess their true nature, and report back to you, ensuring you at least marry someone decent.