The forest had grown darker. Thicker.
Donato tightened his grip on the leather strap of his satchel, his breaths uneven as he trudged past gnarled roots and trees that twisted like they were alive. The strange map his dying father had given him pulsed faintly under his jacket, almost as if it sensed the change in atmosphere.
And then—he heard it.
It was a screech, piercing and ancient, echoing through the branches like a war drum. Donato spun around.
A massive bird Midnight-black feathers tipped in gold—descended from the sky with a predatory grace. Its eyes glowed like molten coins. Before Donato could react, the bird swooped down, claws snatching the map clean from his grip.
"No—no!" he shouted, stumbling after it. "Bring it back!"
The bird flew low, luring him deeper into the unknown.
Donato chased it blindly, pushing through thorny underbrush, his heart racing. His instincts screamed for him to stop, to turn back—but the map was everything. The last piece of his father’s legacy. The only path to the truth.
And then he crossed it.
A stone archway, half-cracked, overgrown with glowing vines. The moment he stepped through, the air shifted. Colder. Denser. It felt... otherworldly.
Beyond the arch stood a hidden valley. Mist clung to the ground, and the sky overhead had dimmed to an eerie twilight, though no sun could be seen.
Donato had entered another realm.
Before he could process the sight before him, sharp cries rang out. He turned, only to find spears pointed at his throat.
He’d been surrounded.
The warriors wore masks.
He tried to speak. "I—I don’t mean harm—"
A blow to his head cut him off.
He woke hours later, groggy, tied to a thick wooden post inside what seemed like a courtyard of polished stone. Around him, fires crackled and drums beat low, in rhythm with his pounding heart.
A crowd had gathered. The villager, all of them oddly tall and pale-skinned—watched him with wide, glowing eyes. Their faces were beautiful but unnervingly symmetrical. Too perfect. Unnatural.
Then the king arrived.
He was massive. Cloaked in gold and crimson robes, a curved blade at his hip. A heavy crown of thorns and metal rested on his brow, and his gaze was like winter—cold, ruthless, final.
The crowd bowed as he approached. Donato didn’t.
The king raised a hand. Silence swept the courtyard.
"Intruder," the king said, his voice deep and layered with a strange accent. "You step foot in the sacred land of Virenkai. You hold a cursed map. You desecrate our seal."
Donato swallowed hard. "I didn’t know. I was just following the bird."
Murmurs rose from the crowd.
The king’s eyes narrowed. "Ignorance does not excuse trespass. You shall be executed at dawn."
The word executed rang in Donato’s ears like a death knell.
A feminine voice cut through the air.
The crowd parted, and from the shadows stepped a young woman in flowing silver robes. Her hair was as white as snow, cascading down her back like a veil. Jewels were braided into her hair, and her skin shimmered faintly under the firelight.
She dropped to her knees before the king. "Father, please. Spare him."
The king frowned. "He is a stranger."
"He could be a messenger. Or a victim," she insisted. "There’s something different about him."
Donato watched, stunned, as the queen approached behind her—regal and quiet, her eyes unreadable. She whispered something into the king’s ear.
Then the king exhaled heavily. "Very well."
The guards hesitated. But the king nodded once, and they obeyed, slashing the ropes binding Donato’s wrists.
Donato stumbled forward, confused and breathless.
He turned to the princess.
She gave him a small smile.
He dropped to one knee. "Thank you. Thank you, Your Highness."
The king’s voice thundered again. "You are not welcome here, outsider. But you will dine with us before your exile at dawn."
Donato blinked. "Exile?"
"It is mercy," the king said coldly. "Not forgiveness."
Still trembling, Donato bowed low. "I understand."
Later that night, he was escorted into a grand dinning hall with lots of decorations in golden colours. The walls glowed with nice paintings, and torches burned blue fire. It was unlike anything he had ever seen.
Donato was placed at the far end beside the princess.
A large bowl was spread in front of him, and the food began to arrive.
Bowls of rice and steam spicy meats. Fruits juice in a glass cup. Glazed roots that melted in his mouth. Warm bread, soft as silk.
He hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days. Maybe weeks. The flavors burst across his tongue—rich, spicy, complex. He ate slowly at first, cautious.
He devoured everything, licking his fingers, unable to stop. The food was addicting, unreal.
"They don’t poison food here," the princess said softly beside him. "You can trust the meal, even if not the people."
He looked at her. "Why did you help me?"
She smiled sadly. "Because I once left this land too. I know what it means to be lost."
Donato tilted his head. "You... left Virenkai?"
"A long time ago. I was young. I followed a whisper in a dream. When I returned, I was punished. I lost my voice for three years. My father said the outside world tainted me."
Donato was silent. Her story stirred something in him.
She turned to him gently. "What are you looking for, Donato Morano?"
He stiffened. "How do you know my name?"
She held up her hand—and in it, was the map.
The one the bird stole.
"You came chasing this," she said. "But this is only half the truth."
He stared at her. "What do you mean?"
The queen approached then, her voice quiet and terrifyingly calm. "The map your father gave you was altered. The book you seek... is not what he believed it to be."
Donato stood up slowly. "You know of the book?"
The king rose from the opposite side of the table. "We know of the curse. And of the coin. One soul to read it. One soul to keep it."
The firelight flickered.
Donato’s blood ran cold. "Then it’s real."
The princess leaned in, her eyes intense. "It’s real. And dangerous. But you were chosen to find it for a reason."
Donato frowned. "I don’t believe in fate."
She smiled. "You will."
Suddenly, a loud cry echoed outside.
A guard rushed in, bowing deeply.
"My King! There’s movement at the west gates. A stranger was caught pacing around. He carries something, A black bag...."
The king’s face turned grave. "That gate was sealed a hundred years ago."
Donato’s pulse quickened. "What gate?"
The princess looked at him, her voice trembling.
"The gate of the book’s guardian."
And then a horn blared—long, loud, ancient.
The doors of the hall slammed open.
And a cloaked figure stepped in—face hidden, hand was holding his bag and a silk.
Donato stepped back, eyes wide.
It was the same black silk his father used to wrap forbidden items in the vault.
The king rose to his full height.
"Who dares enter my hall unbidden?"
The stranger slowly removed his hood.
Donato’s mouth fell open.
Because standing before him...