Harsh tossed restlessly in his bed, sweat clinging to his skin. Every time his eyelids dared to close, hazy, chaotic memories clawed at his consciousness, unsettling him.

Somewhere in the night, after hours of fighting the same suffocating nightmares, he had enough. He knew sleep was a far-fetched dream.

He groaned deeply into the pillow. "Ugh!"

Sitting up, he glared at everything.

He got down, putting on slippers, and marched to the bathroom. His blotchy, ugly face stared back at him. He splashed some water on his face and pulled back, lashes wet.

After patting himself dry, he stared back at his stupid face.

He sighed, hands tracing his awfully long and big nose. It looked like it covered more than half of his face, like an eagle's nose.

And his eyes... they were dead than more. So dark and unsettling that he flinched and looked away, blinking off his scary reflection.

He went back to his room, and sighed loudly, hands on his hips.

"I'm not gonna sleep anyway," he muttered to himself, searching for anything to kill his time.

His phone was confiscated. He couldn't watch TV because it was unsubscribed to Netflix by Neelakshi. Wearily, he realized books were his solace for these next few months.

He opened the door and stepped into the private hallway was quiet with ambient panel lights casting soft light on the stone walls. Closing the door behind him, he strolled forward , shoving hands in the pockets of his sweatpants as the silence of the night alerted him.

He reached the door leading out into the wider corridors.

"Prince Harsh?"

Harsh paused, glancing back. A guard stepped forward. "It's late, your highness. Will you like me to accompany you?"

His eyes rolled. Exasperated. "Is there any threat even in my own home?" He didn't realize when he called their palace as his own.

He immediately regretted it. It felt too natural.

The guard frowned. "No, your highness. But still—"

"Then there's no need," he clipped.

"Then, may I know where you're headed to at this hour? This is for your own safety your highness."

He exhaled. "Library, kay?" he gritted, nodding. "You have nothing to worry about, hm? I'm just bored."

The guard bowed, understanding the orders and stepped back.

He walked away. The royal residence was in South Wing. Whereas, the private library and many other documented stuff was in the West Wing. It was something which Isha had casually mentioned last night when he had sneaked in with her. Now, looking back at those events, the previous night felt like it was a lifetime away. He couldn't believe for a moment that it was just yesterday. Or if he had been here only for a few days.

Everything felt familiar yet foreign. He was floating somewhere between the waking and dreaming.

He entered the West Wing after the doors were opened for him by the night post. Entering the polished, dark wood area, he passed by the same room he was in yesterday, now locked again. Beside it, was the room of archives. It was locked by a modern slim steel panel security into the doorway that required PIN and biometrics.

His eyes flicked up to the small cameras watching over the corridor. Ducking his head, he made his way to library after a turn on right. Atleast, this was what Isha told him. He stilled when he turned, frowning at the long, echoey corridor with more doors.

"Uhm..." he turned back to the main corridor where a guard perked.

"Your highness?"

He nudged his chin over his shoulder. "Which one's the library?"

"Third last door on your right, your highness."

He nodded and the guard retreated back to his original position.

With a weird heavy feeling in his chest, he made his way to the spooky library.

Yup, spooky.

Entering the place, it reminded him of pinterest kinda dark academia aesthetics. Tentatively, he moved around, almost swallowed by its grandiose. He drifted through the aisles, fingers grazing the spines of books without really registering them. He could read everything and nothing which sparked a funny feeling because he never had the luxury to choose or reject things.

Strange, wasn't it?

He stilled, his eyes landing on Sonder, book 4th of Pratham V, his favourite author's series. It was the latest release in a fiction series he had been reading over years. His hand drifted to the book even though Agney had forbidden him from fiction. He tucked it under his arm, grabbing a few more books on princely stuff.

Time to make a prince outta himself.

His lips twitched at his own rhyme.

Make a man out of you.

With the books in hand, he turned to leave, humming the tune to himself. The faint sound of his footsteps echoed softly after him in the corridor.

Passing by two rooms, a faint rustle echoed off.

He slowed down, craning his neck to the left at the bare cream colored wall.

Was there a sound in the walls?

He frowned.

Or the rooms?

Maybe rats?

Nope. These were royals. Nothing less than premium rats here.

He reached the corridor, daring to peek over his shoulders at the spooky corridor as it stared back at him.

What if there was a ghost?

A shiver crawled up his spine as he felt someone watching him back.

He ran to his room, betting if he didn't reach his room under the count of 120, the ghost would possess him. He didn't know when the thought sparked, but it did and his steps grew more urgent.

With labored breathing and a pounding heart, he skidded to a stop before his door, lightly colliding against it at 108. He opened the door and slipped inside at the count of 112.

The sensation of being watched instantly lifted off his back.

He stood there, chest heaving, then let out a breathless laugh. A grin tugged at his lips, feeling ridiculously alive and fresh.

How old was this palace? He pondered, throwing his books on the bed.

Five hundred years old? Six hundred?

Who knew how many disturbed spirits roamed in this palace...

So, he decided, he wouldn't roam in the West Wing at night.

He grabbed Sonder instead.

***

Outside the control room, mugs clinked off. Voices drifted in, crude laughter with lazy puffs of smoke. The night shift had a guilty pleasure, a fifteen minute unofficial break at 02:10.

A sharp bark rang the silence.

None but one man had stayed back at the console, a hand on mouse, other holding a paper cup with tea. 

Outside, another bark followed, louder, sharper.

"Those mutts again," someone grumbled from beyond the door. "Probably chasing their own tails."

The barking subsided after a guard whistled once, the sound fading back into the night hum.

[This work is only published on Scrollstack and Wattpad by DaisyDayNew.]

The man at the console put down the paper cup while his eyes briefly skimmed over the feed with boredom, nothing unusual reported in the empty corridors.

The door creaked wider behind him.

He chuckled. "Done with whining about your wife?"

The door clicked shut.

The guy wasn't alarmed by the silence. Instead, he rubbed his sore eyelids from peering at the screen for too long.

He glanced up. "What's the brooding about?"

No reply.

The guy frowned and peeked over his shoulder.

A gloved hand gripped the armrest. Another clamped around his throat. His eyes flew as wide as saucers as his head was sharply wrenched sharply with a sick crunch. His body gave a brief jerk, then froze. The only sound was the faintly expelled air as he collapsed.

The intruder moved fast. He pulled out a thin black device from his jacket: a cable, and plugged it into the port beneath the desk.

On the screen. SouthCam4 and 7 froze on empty corridors.

Timestamp. 02:16:53.

He worked quickly, a few keystrokes on the logged-in session and the footage of the control room deleted.

His hand raised to his earpiece.

"You've got only twelve minutes."

Down the corridor, the laughter continued, mugs clinking.

The intruder crossed to the window, pulled it open smoothly, and slipped out into the back lawn.

                   The corridor was still except for the another intruder, face down, wearing the guards' uniform. He carried a silencer gun in his coat pocket. He checked over his shoulder, guards rounding to the other side.

He took one step toward the private hallway that connected the royal family's chambers.

Then stopped.

From the left archway, another silhouette emerged, tall and calculative. His face was cloaked by a mask close to the skin, revealing a pair of dangerously glacial eyes, consuming everything in his predatory gaze. He wore a dark hooded jacket, color blending into the dim stone around him.

Startled, the intruder's hand darted to his pocket.

Too slow.

A muffled hiss pierced through the air and lodged into his own skull instead. His mouth opened in a soundless gasp as blood surged to his lips. He staggered, gun slipping from his fingers.

The masked man covered the distance in two smooth strides, catching him by his collar before he could fall. He slowly lowered the corpse to the floor without making a noise.

With gloved hands, he patted down the body. He stilled on rigid objects, procuring a burner mobile, a USB and a keycard. He turned it over, the palace crest and a gold stripe of restricted access glaring back at him.

From deeper in the corridor, muffled footsteps of the approaching guards ricochetted off the walls.

He moved back and vanished into the carved stone arch along the left wall.

When the guards arrived, they found a bloody body.

The first guard knelt beside the body, peering at the ghastly face.

"Who is he!" he hissed, asking his companion.

The other stepped back, eyes scanning the corridor in panic as he realized what had happened. "Fuck."

"Seal the wing now!"

His hand shot to his shoulder radio, voice trembling with adrenaline.

"All units, code amber. We have a dead intruder. Possible insider breach. Lockdown in South Wing now!"