THE FALLEN HEIR ch 1 and ch 2

Abhi's story garden

THE FALLEN HEIR

The Fallen heir ~ABHI SHARMA Prologue: The Forbidden Tale “Tell us the story, Grandfather... the story of the forbidden prince,” the children pleaded around the crackling hearth, their eyes wide with wonder. The old man, draped in weathered robes of faded maroon, stared silently into the flames. A log cracked. His wrinkled hand trembled slightly as he lifted the clay cup to his lips. “You know it’s forbidden,” he said after a pause. “The Emperor’s edict—no one is to speak his name. Not in song. Not in story. Not even in sorrow.” “But why?” one child pressed, his voice soft. “Was he... a traitor?” The old man's eyes shimmered, not from the fire. “No,” he whispered. “He was the truest son this kingdom ever had.” And so, he began. --- Chapter One: The Exile His name was Kaelus, son of the great King Aurelian. But no bird sang of him. No statues bore his likeness. He was the shadow behind the throne, banished from the palace at the age of ten—too young to understand the court’s cruelty, but old enough to recognize the hatred in his stepmother’s eyes. Kaelus’ mother, Queen Lyria, had died giving him life. Her absence became his sin. The new queen, Virelia, beautiful and ruthless, had her own son—Cassian. And in the game of thrones, two princes were too many. “He needs discipline,” Virelia had whispered to the king. “Send him to the Iron Reach. Let him grow into a warrior… or break trying.” And so he was sent. The Iron Reach was no palace. Stone halls, weapons clanging from dawn to dusk, and eyes that watched only to judge. Kaelus learned to fight, not for glory, but to survive. One day, as the sun dipped below the marble cliffs, Kaelus wandered outside the barracks walls, into the outer sands where war drills were held. That’s when he saw her. A girl. Barefoot. Gasping. Running. She darted behind the barrack walls like a hunted deer. Kaelus followed instinct, not reason. As he turned the corner, he caught a glimpse—dark eyes, tangled hair, breath trembling. She looked at him not with fear, but with desperate hope. “Who are you?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “No time,” she hissed. “They're coming.” Before either could speak again, voices approached. Men in leather armor, dragging other girls behind them—some weeping, some numb. Kaelus stepped forward. “She’s with me,” he lied, heart pounding. His combat master, Vorian, arrived just in time to see the confrontation. “She’s property,” one of the captors spat. “For the King's harem. Bought, borrowed, or taken—doesn’t matter. Orders are orders.” Vorian turned down from the idea of saving her . And pulled him aside and whispered harshly, “This is not your fight, prince. Disobedience means punishment.” The girl was dragged away. But as Kaelus turned to leave, bruised pride burning in his chest, he whispered in her ear: “I will help you.” --- Chapter Two: Captive Flame Her name was Seraphina, daughter of a blacksmith from the village of Caelwyn. She remembered the flicker of lanterns on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. Her younger siblings had carved a cake from honeyed bread. Her father promised her a necklace from her mother’s old jewelry box. Then, the knock. Then, the silence. Three days had passed. Her wrists ached from rope. Her eyes no longer wept. But her mind… her mind clung to that boy with fire in his voice. Who was he? Will he come? Can he? The words haunted her like a lullaby, sharpening her will. Not all cages are built from iron. Some are built from fear. But Seraphina’s had cracks. And she would find them. TO BE CONTINUED ©2025 ALL RIGHT RESERVED TO ABHI SHARMA