Bound by Shadows

Torin

The moon hung low in the night sky as I crossed into Olinn, ditching the last vestiges of my identity on the other side of the border. My horse, my gear—gone. If anyone spotted me now, they'd see nothing but a commoner.

At least, that was the plan.

I adjusted the collar of the too-small shirt I'd picked up in a quiet, run-down village just past the border. It was tight, the fabric pulling uncomfortably across my chest and biceps, and the sleeves didn't quite make it to my wrists. The woman who sold it to me had smirked when I handed her the coins, muttering something about "not being built like most men around here."

I rolled my shoulders, trying to settle into the fit. I'd worn many things in my life—armor, royal uniforms, the tailored suits expected of me as a palace guard. But this... this felt foreign. Like I'd slipped into a role that didn't belong to me.

The dusty streets of the village gave way to a winding dirt path as I made my way toward the castle. The air smelled different here, heavy with smoke and something sour. Even in the dark, Olinn was exactly how I remembered it—poorer, rougher, and far less orderly than Eldora.

It had been years since I'd been here, but the memories came rushing back like floodwaters.

I could still see my mother's face, her expression a mix of pity and disdain as we walked through the bustling streets. "This is what happens when a kingdom is ruled by greed," she'd said, her voice low so only I could hear.

I'd been fifteen, just old enough to notice the stark differences between Olinn and Eldora. The streets were cramped, the people weary. Vendors shouted over one another, their stalls packed tightly together, selling wares that looked barely worth the price.

We'd come here as part of a diplomatic mission, though even then I could sense my mother's distaste for the place. She'd always been fiercely loyal to Eldora, to its ideals and its people.

Olinn, by contrast, had always felt... wrong.

That feeling hadn't changed.

The streets were quieter now, though the unease lingered. Shadows moved in the corners of my vision, and I couldn't shake the sense that I was being watched.

I forced myself to focus, pushing away the memories and the doubts that threatened to creep in.

Aspin.

She was the reason I was here, the reason I'd risked everything to cross the border.

I hated that she'd done this, that she'd put herself—and the kingdom—in danger. But more than that, I hated the thought of something happening to her.

She was reckless, infuriatingly stubborn, and far too intelligent for her own good. But she was also kind, brave, and fiercely loyal to her people.

And she didn't deserve to be here.

The thought of her in some cold, dark cell made my chest tighten.

You'll find her, I told myself. You'll bring her home.

The path widened into a narrow street as I approached the outskirts of the city. The castle loomed in the distance, its dark silhouette framed by the faint glow of lanterns.

I kept my head down, blending into the sparse crowd of late-night wanderers.

The shirt pulled uncomfortably across my shoulders again, and I couldn't help but mutter under my breath, "Next time, I'm bringing a spare tunic."

I rounded a corner, nearly colliding with someone.

"Watch it!" a voice snapped.

I stepped back, taking in the young woman in front of me. She was small, with dark hair tied back in a loose braid and a sharpness in her eyes that suggested she didn't take kindly to strangers.

"Apologies," I said quickly, lowering my voice. I didn't need to draw any more attention than necessary.

She narrowed her eyes at me, looking me up and down. For a moment, I thought she might say something else, but then she huffed and brushed past me, disappearing into the crowd.

I didn't give her a second thought.

I had more important things to worry about.

As I continued toward the castle, my mind wandered back to Aspin.

I could picture her so clearly, her defiant expression, the way she'd glare at me when I told her she was being precipitous ,reckless, stubborn, whatever version on the word I used.

She'd probably hate to know how much I admired that about her.

It wasn't just her stubbornness—it was her determination, her refusal to back down no matter how dire the circumstances.

But that same trait was what had landed her here, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of frustration.

She should have listened.

But then again, if she weren't so stubborn, she wouldn't be Aspin.

The thought made me smile, despite myself.

I shook my head, focusing on the task at hand. The castle was closer now, its high walls casting long shadows over the city.

This was it.

No turning back now.