A chilling entry from the halls of Dravengarde
The Forgotten Wing – A Palace That Breathes Silence
Tucked behind sealed archways and shuttered doors lies the West Wing of Dravengarde, once a gallery of royal splendor. Its halls were meant for foreign dignitaries, quiet retreats, and family gatherings beneath stained-glass light.
But ten years ago, the youngest prince — Lucian Drakemore — collapsed under the white rose trees of the garden. Alive, but unresponsive. Not dead… yet not truly living.
Since then, the West Wing has become a tomb. Not for a body, but for a name.
- Guards are no longer posted there.
- Servants refuse to enter unless ordered.
- The King has erased the wing from official maps.
No light is seen from its windows.
No orders come from its doors.
But at night, the stillness carries rumors:
A candle lit itself. A shadow moved in silence. A boy who never aged still lies breathing.
The Bloodbound Stasis – A Curse Born of Grief, Not Magic
Lucian’s collapse was never solved.
No spell. No poison. No blade.
The ancient scrolls, buried deep in the Restricted Archives beneath the chapel, speak of a rare magical phenomenon:
“A Bloodbound Stasis — wherein body and soul fracture, not through external force, but from internal trauma so profound that time itself bends in mercy.”
This isn’t enchantment. It’s emotional spellwork.
A curse without a caster. A prison of the soul.
Triggered by grief. By identity. By rejection.
The binding sustains itself. Healers are repelled by arcane feedback.
One priest reportedly aged ten years in a day trying to awaken him.
To wake Lucian, the scrolls whisper, one must not break a spell —
They must confront the wound.
Selene Marcentis – The Ghost Who Stayed
Most forgot Lucian.
Some denied he ever existed.
But Selene remembered.
Once a maid at the royal wedding — present the night Lucian fell — she was demoted, erased, and forgotten. Yet she stayed. Quietly. Faithfully. For a decade.
Every week she entered the West Wing.
- She lit a candle beside his bed.
- She cleaned dust that no one else would see.
- She spoke to a boy who never answered.
And then…
He twitched.
He breathed deeper.
He opened his eyes.
For the first time in a decade, Lucian Drakemore whispered:
“Cold.”
A single word that shook the court to its core.
The Kingdom That Erased a Prince
King Cassian Drakemore has ruled for ten years. His reign is sharp, controlled, and utterly without mercy. To him, Lucian is dead.
He silences all mention. He corrects diplomats mid-sentence. He had Lucian’s pendant — recovered from a ruined Vassiran altar — buried in a vault without acknowledgment.
Even his queen, Isolde, cannot speak Lucian’s name aloud in court.
But now?
- Magic flickers again in the West Wing.
- The Queen is watching.
- And Commander Elias — Lucian’s elder brother — is remembering what it means to hope.
The court is shifting.
And the one person who swore loyalty to the prince, not the crown…
is no longer silent.
Story Hooks for Your Own Worldbuilding
Use this as inspiration for your world or campaign:
🔹 Bloodbound Magic:
Design a system of spellwork rooted not in spoken incantations, but emotional trauma. Grief, guilt, shame — as conduits for arcane resonance.
🔹 A Kingdom Built on Silence:
How far would a ruler go to keep the truth buried? What if that truth wakes up — with a fractured memory, a claim to the throne, and a soul stitched together by betrayal?
🔹 The Faithful One:
A minor servant or overlooked character becomes the only person who can bridge the gap between the waking world and the sleeping curse. What do they risk to do so?
Worldbuilding Prompt for You
🕯 What happens when a kingdom erases a prince… and he wakes up anyway?
- Who lies about the past to keep the crown?
- Who knew all along, and said nothing?
- What secrets were buried with him — and what do they mean now that he breathes again?
Final Thought
The tale of Lucian Drakemore is not just a fantasy tragedy.
It’s a mirror — of power, of silence, and of what happens when the world forgets someone who was never truly gone.
And now, as the West Wing stirs,
so does the kingdom’s reckoning.
He was not a hero.
He was not a monster.
He was forgotten.
But not anymore.
And if the King won’t speak his name, the world will.
Tales of Varestal
E.J. Cordoue
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