an of power and wealth. From its highest tower, intricate spells pulsed through the air, weaving a tapestry of enchantments that protected the royal family and impressed even the m

walls of his chambers, that Pri

ldered, with a mane of raven-black hair that fell in soft waves to his collar, he carried the grace of royalty but with

nown for his precision, his ability to coax even the most reluctant of students into producing music that could stir souls. But today, even Master Eamon's legendary pa

after all. His hands trembled slightly as he lowered his own violin. "Your Highness, you must not force

d tense. The melody that should have been soft and lilting instead came out jagged and off-key. He

ign that he had overstepped. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward, guiding Arin's hand over the strings. "You are gripping the bow

ing city of Eldrador, bustling with life and activity. Beyond the palace gates, the world seemed so vibrant, so full of adventure-everyth

voice tinged with irritation that he cou

the city for a few hours. He had been planning it for days-no, weeks. A simple illusion spell, one he had perfected, would be enough to fool the

napped, "Your Highness, you're not even trying!" His voice rose sharply, the frustration boiling over, but as soon as the words left his

silent except for the soft hum of magic in the walls. Arin's gaze lingered on his tutor, but th

tached as he said, "That will be

etter of it. The prince had dismissed him, and there was nothing more

hand in the air, summoning a faint shimmer of golden magical dust that glittered around his fingers.

rin added, his back still turned to

g the sheet music and other tools behind. His steps echoed in the ch

s palm flat against it, closing his eyes. A soft hum radiated from his hand as his magic flowed through the wood, casting his awareness

y then did he allow himself to relax. He took a deep breath, the tension finally releasing from h

corner of his lips. Soon, he thought, soon, I'll be out there, in the city. The violin lesson was just a form

had plans to finaliz

all gilded with magic and history. Yet despite the magnificence, to Arin, it was a gilded cage. He paused, pressing his back to the cool stone, his heart racing with anticipation. He knew

own the corridor. Si

the dim flicker of magical torches, their glow casting long shadows along the walls. Every so often, he stopped,

se of marble, broken only by the occasional portrait or tapestry. But Arin knew better. He had discovered this secret duri

ed his eyes, concentrating. His hand moved over the stone slowly, until-there. The surface b

glow began to follow the path of his fingers, a ripple of magic answering his call. When the circle was complete, he drew

to the darkness. The door slid shut behind him with a soft click, sealing him away f

pressed in around him, broken only by the sound of his breathing. It was an eerie contrast to the grand halls above, b

l, blue flame flickered to life between his palms, casting a ghostly glow that lit the tunnel. He smiled as the flame hove

ch endlessly into the earth. Arin walked at a steady pace, the flame in his hands lighting his way. His footsteps echoed faintl

palace walls for far too long. Eldrador's streets are where the real magic lies, not the dusty halls of the palace. The peo

ld feel the shift in the air-cooler, fresher. He was close. The blue flame flickered, and as the tunnel grew brighter, Arin extinguishe

out into the open air. The fresh scent of grass and flowers hit him first, a sweet contrast to the musty darkness

ing before him, the stone streets winding like rivers through the bustling markets and rows of houses. The sounds of the city reached his ears-the distant murmur o

ot dressed like this. His royal clothes, though simple by court standards, would still mark him

the silks and embroidery fading away to be replaced by rough, homespun cloth. His boots, once polished and immaculate, became scuffed and worn. His hair, always meticulously styled by palace att

from his face. With a final glance back at the hidden door, Ari

ng a golden light over the cobblestone streets, where merchants shouted their wares and children darted between stalls. The scent of fresh bread,

be, he thought as he wove between market stalls and shopfronts. No stuffy lessons, no suf

hant's stall, a voi

ing up a piece of jewelry-an intricate pendant of silver and blue glass

oser to examine the pendant. It was beautiful, no doubt, though he had little nee

elf. But remember, lad, the city moves fast

ly starting to understand what that meant. Here, away from the palace, he wasn't Prince Arin, bound b

, a small smile playing on his lips. The prince had escaped, and for th