Chapter Text
Visions of a life
Where I was satisfied
Feed my hungry mind
Where are you when I close my eyes?
I left this world behind
For the world I'd built inside
Feed my hungry mind
Where are you when I close my eyes?
—Wolf Alice, ‘Visions of a Life’
PROLOGUE—Will, 19 Years Old
Will stared at himself in the towering ornate mirror of his old bedroom. It was strange to be back in Castle Byers. Strange to be back in these clothes. Three whole years of citrine healer’s tunics and loose pants with tears at the knees, now he stood in an indigo doublet with golden stars embroidered on the puffy sleeves, more form-fitting pants and pristine jackboots. He hated how familiar it all felt. His eyes drew to the small bed behind him, lavender sheets and blankets crisp and tucked into the corners. He went over and dragged a finger across the top of the oak footboard, lifted the digit back to his face. No dust.
He wished they’d left the sheets askew. Wished they’d let dust accumulate over his old room, his old life. But no, they'd come back every day as if they knew he would one day, too. He ached for cobwebs and the smell of a barren room. It was as if he’d never left.
He heard the sound of hooves skidding to a stop on the cobblestone outside, and his heart faltered. The sound of the wheels screeching onto the ground was followed by a ringing in his ears. He urged his stiff legs to move over to the small window, peered down below. A cerulean blue carriage drawn by white pegasi had arrived just outside the castle’s drawbridge. The door was opening. His twin sister stepped out, looking beautiful as ever. Even from four stories up, Will could see how her face had filled in. How she’d matured. Sharper jawline, slightly taller, more confident stature, thick brown waves falling just above her shoulder blades. The ocean blue of her dress, how it seemed to drown out her warm complexion. He saw someone else begin to emerge from the carriage and his throat grew dry.
“Prince William,” a maid knocked on his door, pulling his eyes away from the scene happening below. Prince. It made his head ache. He recalled a point in time where he’d grown somewhat used to the haughty title, but now it felt just as silly as it did when he was twelve. “Your sister and her fiancé have just arrived, please join them downstairs in the Throne Room when you’re ready.”
“‘Ready.’” Will scoffed to himself. How could he ever be ready for something like this? How could he ever be ready when his heart had flipped the second that carriage hit the ground? How could he ever be ready when he’d just been ripped from his stable life and thrown back into this one?
He grabbed his worn leather satchel—the only thing he’d brought from his new life besides himself—and opened the door. The maid standing outside had a kind smile that only put him more on edge.
He took his time descending the spiral staircase of the East Tower, as if he could stall long enough to not have to face anything—or anyone for that matter. He knew better, but he still continued to wind slowly down each step, dread growing stronger as he reached the bottom.
Will placed shaking hands on the handles and opened the large oak doors, letting the lavender light swallow him whole.