He woke up. The world was blurry, spinning. "Ahh... my head," he groaned.

  He looked down, he wore nothing.

  He looked next to him. She was sleeping, peaceful like a little baby. The memory of the wine rushed back.

  "Oh my god," he whispered, his stomach turning.

  "You are awake, My Prince," she cooed. She moved, putting her hand on his bare chest.

  The Prince recoiled. he gasped. "'My Prince? Get your hands off me, filth."

  Samly laughed. "Or what?" she sneered. "Type 0."

  The Prince stopped moving.

  "So," he whispered. "You believed the rumor."

  He looked at the mirror across the room. He felt the hum in his blood.

  "I read in a book... about Type 5s," he said. “Especially the Royal Second. It said that they can alter reflections. That they can bend reality."

  He turned his head slowly to stare at her.

  "Be my first test subject, My Lady."

  He didn't hit her. He just touched her neck, and her body went numb.

  A doll in his hands. He dragged her by her hair to the tall mirror. He didn't open it. He threw her through the glass. She passed through the surface like it was freezing water.

  Then, music started playing from the sky. A twisted, looping lullaby. The Prince's voice didn't come from a mouth. It came from the air itself, amplified by the glass.

  "Welcome to the Glass World, my Lady."

  "Your mission here is simple: Survive for one month."

  "Each day, food will appear at these specific coordinates. But there is a catch..."

  He smiled. "You will wake up in a different place every time you close your eyes. So... watch out."

  Day 1: She clawed at the invisible walls until her fingernails broke.

  Day 13: The gravity flipped. She fell for hours into a sky made of shards.

  Day 18: She woke up in total darkness. The only sound was her own heartbeat, loud as a drum.

  Day 21: She saw a light. Or was it a hallucination? The tears started to become chuckles.

  Day 25: She found water. She drank it, laughing. It was sand.

  Day 30: She saw a person. A savior. He reached out a hand. He pulled her into the real world. And then he threw her into the nearest dumpster.

  The Prince sent an anonymous letter to Jarl about the location of her daughter.

  She was found naked. Her throat was bleeding. But she still made a face... like she was laughing.

  Nine months after "that scene," Samly hadn't contacted him. The Prince had almost forgotten the filth. Until one day, a servant came running into his chambers.

  "My Prince! My Prince, a—"

  "Yo," The Prince said, not looking up from his book. "Rest. What is going on? Who died?"

  The servant was catching his breath like he was running a marathon. "I was given a letter... from the servants of Samly. They said to give it to you as fast as possible."

  The Prince sneered. "Throw it in the dumpster."

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "I... I suggest you read it, My Prince."

  The Prince sighed. He snatched the letter and opened it. Samly was giving birth.

  The Prince scoffed. He crumpled the letter and threw it in the garbage. "I don't know why she sent me that," he muttered. " Go tell the man who touched her..."

  He froze, biting his lips

  "I hate that trash," he whispered.

  He thanked the messenger with a nod. He walked to the nearest mirror.

  He stepped through the glass.

  "Okay," he thought, stepping out into the hallway of Samly's estate. "Now... to see the result of me being used."

  "My Prince," one of the maids whispered, bowing. "She is still giving birth."

  He sat down on a chair, crossing his legs. "Yeah, yeah. I know." he sighed, staring at the closed door. "I hope," he muttered to himself, "that she dies while she is giving it. That b—"

  He was cut off. Not by a scream. But by a sound. A sound that no one else in the hallway could hear. It was the sound of a heavy, crystal bell, ringing from the fabric of the world itself.

  GONG.

  GONG.

  The Prince gripped the arms of his chair. No. Like Scarlet. Dangerous.

  GONG.

  “A second?”

  The silence that followed was louder than the scream of the baby from inside the room.

  The Prince's face became pale.

  "Oh no," he whispered.

  "My son," He whispered, the dread filling his chest. "They will kill him."

  He stood up and kicked the door open. It flew off its hinges. Everyone inside flinched. The maids, the midwives. Samly looked up from the bed, sweaty and exhausted. "Daniel?"

  "SILENCE."

  He didn't look at her. He ran to the midwife and grabbed the bundle from her arms. He waved his hand, changing the scene. The noise of the room vanished.

  They were in a bubble of silence. Just him and the boy.

  "I need to see the Mark," He muttered, his hands shaking.

  He bit his thumb, drawing blood, and snapped his fingers. A small, concentrated flame appeared.

  He looked at the newborn baby. "I am sorry," he whispered.

  He put the fire on the boy's neck. The baby screamed. Tears filled The Prince’s eyes.

  he held the flame there until the skin reacted... until it glowed.

  A mark appeared on his skin. Complex. Veined. A Leaf. The Royal Mark.

  He rubbed his face. "A Royal Second," he whispered. "He is a Royal Second... of the Royal Mark."

  He leaned in to the boy's face. The screaming had stopped. "His breathing..." he said. "It's getting quieter. And quieter."

  He put the boy on the ground and backed away. he started circling him. Then he froze.

  He felt the pull. A magnetic drag.

  "My powers are killing him," He said, looking at his hands.

  "I am... consuming my own son."

  "I need to do something," he stammered. "I have to do anything. I can't let him die."

  He looked at the glowing Leaf on his neck.

  "The Mark," he said. "It's the connection."

  He summoned his energy. It started as Glass.

  He compressed it. It became Crystal. He compressed it further. It became Diamond. Hard. Unbreakable.

  But he didn't stop. He stripped it down.

  It became Carbon. And finally... it collapsed into a Black Dot.

  He put the flame on it. He closed his hands around it like a lock.

  The Prince screamed. His hands bled like a river. But it was a river for his son.

  He felt the Black Dot becoming a Sphere in his palm. At that moment, he slammed the sphere into the child's neck.

  The boy's scream filled the space. It wasn't just a cry. It was like a star dying. And the Prince... he felt like the galaxy was dying hearing it.

  The Prince's right arm became numb.

  It was going to fall. He stabilized it with his other arm. Then his right leg. His left leg. His head.

  He looked at the boy's neck. The Leaf vanished.

  The Prince waited. He waited for a new Mark to show. But it didn't. The skin was blank.

  The Prince put his hand over his mouth.

  “No.” Tears slipped from his eyes.

  He sat there for a second, then he took the boy and returned to the room. Samly saw him. She screamed. "My son! Daniel! Don't take him from me!"

  "I won't," he spat.

  He looked at the boy in his arms, then at her.

  "I hate you, Samly. Every inch of you is worth hatred. But today... you will have the only reason you are still breathing."

  He sighed, handing the child over for a moment. "From this day, you are his Care Taker. But he can't be with you today. Not in the state he is."

  He walked to a mirror. It rippled. It sent him to his room.

  He looked at the child. The mark was gone. Tears filled the Prince's eyes. "I know," he whispered, burying his face in his hands. "I know you will hate me. For being from my bloodline."

  He touched the baby's cheek. "I am sorry, son. For what you are going to see in your life because of me." His voice hardened. "But... I won't let anyone... hurt you."

  The baby stayed with the Prince for three months. He would give Samly the boy for an hour to feed him, then take him back.

  Then, a maid died in the castle. She left a daughter behind. Jean. Four years old. The little girl stayed for a while, ignored, until the King found her.

  "You don't do anything in this castle!" the King shouted, grabbing the 4-year-old by her hair. "You don't deserve the food you eat!"

  "I am taking her, Father," the Prince said, stepping out of the shadows. "I have a use for her." The King sneered and dropped her. "Do what you want."

  "Thank you, Prince," the girl sobbed.

  The Prince brushed her hair, fixing it. "Don't worry about that."

  "What is your name?"

  "Jean."

  The Prince smiled. "Jean... what do you say we get you out of this world?”

  “To a better world?"

  "What?"

  "You are going to take care of my son," he said. "But in a little... different way."

  "How is that, Prince?"

  "You are going to be sealed with him. Connected. If he dies... you die. If he grows... you grow."

  She stepped back and started shaking.

  "Don't you hate this world?" the Prince whispered. "Look at the people here. Even your mother's friends didn't care for you after she died." he leaned in.

  "You can get out of this world. You will have food. You will feel no coldness. No heat."

  The girl stared at the face of the Prince. She nodded.

  "Very well," the Prince said. "Since you are his Care Taker... his powers will be in your hands. Don't give him the power until you feel like he is capable of controlling it."

  "Yes, Prince."

  "And use any way you can," the Prince said, "to train him to control his powers." he sighed, looking at the 4-year-old girl. "And if he insults me... don't defend me."

  She nodded.

  "And," the Prince added, his voice cracking slightly, " If you become his protector or his heart... tell him that his father loved him. Even if he didn't feel it."

  He brushed the tears off his face.

  He took the little girl's hand. "What is his name?" she whispered. "Arthur."

  The Prince raised his hand. He sucked her essence into his palm.

  Her body swirled, compressed, and hardened until she was gone. In his hand lay a small, glowing Crystal Ball.

  He placed the glowing sphere on the table. It pulsed with a faint, warm light.

  The Prince closed his eyes.

  CRACK.

  He shattered the sphere.

  Then he ground the shards down, finer and finer, until it was nothing but a shimmering, white powder.

  He mixed the powder with water in a small cup.

  He went to the baby, Arthur, who was sleeping. "Drink, my son," he whispered. He made him drink it. The seal was set.

  He picked up the baby walked through mirror. He appeared in front of Samly’s mirror. She looked up.

  "He's yours," the Prince said. He shoved the baby into her arms. "Take good care of him, garbage."

  Then he teleported back. Leaving his son—and his heart—behind.

  End of Act 3. Damn, this Act was long. But it was worth it, right?

  Sir Ghouls.