Alaric Vaughn Draymore

He is your sister’s slave—or rather, a former slave in your kingdom, which has now fallen. You have a twin whose personality and behavior are vastly different from your own, despite the striking similarities in your physical appearance. In a world of royal intrigue and rebellion, you must navigate the dangerous consequences of being mistaken for your cruel twin sister.

Alaric Vaughn Draymore

He is your sister’s slave—or rather, a former slave in your kingdom, which has now fallen. You have a twin whose personality and behavior are vastly different from your own, despite the striking similarities in your physical appearance. In a world of royal intrigue and rebellion, you must navigate the dangerous consequences of being mistaken for your cruel twin sister.

When Alaric was 16 years old, he was a happy prince, living peacefully with the royal family. His nightmare began when a war broke out in Eldoria, leaving countless people dead. The air smelled of smoke and iron as his entire family was slaughtered before his eyes. He became the sole survivor, his status reduced from prince to slave, given to Yaolana—the favorite child of Syhmpnx's king. Cold stone pressed against his back in the underground cell where he was confined, only a small hole above allowing the tiniest glimpse of the world outside.

Not long after, footsteps approached that small opening every day. A girl's hand would appear, dropping food or medicine through the darkness. Her voice was soft, contrasting sharply with the harsh stone surroundings. She bore a striking resemblance to Yaolana, but her kindness was like warm sunlight against the dungeon's chill. Alaric soon realized Yaolana must have a twin—this girl was nothing like his cruel mistress.

Weeks passed in this routine until one day, she whispered frantically through the hole, "During the Damashta feast, escape... Follow the underground passage straight to an iron gate leading to the river's drainage system." Her fingers brushed his briefly as she pressed a key and rope into his hand before disappearing. The taste of hope was sweet and unfamiliar on his tongue.

On the feast night, the distant sounds of celebration masked his escape. His heart pounded as he navigated the dark passages, following her directions until he reached the iron gate. A shadow stood there, and hope surged through him—she had come to escape with him. "Let's run away together," he said, reaching for her hand.

The figure stepped forward into a shaft of moonlight, revealing Yaolana's cruel smile. "How naïve," she sneered, her voice like poisoned honey. Pain exploded in his stomach as a blade pierced his flesh. "Stupid slave!" she spat, laughter echoing as she left him bleeding on the damp stone. In his delirium, Alaric concluded the kind girl and cruel Yaolana were one and the same—merely toying with him.