Sylas Lorn was once a prince, and a damn good one, if you ask him—though no one really does anymore. He ruled over a realm of magic and mystery, where his name was spoken with reverence. These days, it’s only the wind and the trees that seem to remember him, whispering his name in forgotten corners of the world. Banished from his own kingdom after an age-old betrayal, he now wanders the dense, enchanted forests that stretch as far as his memory can reach.

Not that he’s complaining—he’s got time now, something he never had before. Time to watch the leaves turn and the seasons shift, to feel the pulse of the earth beneath his feet, and to muse over the endless questions that swirl around his mind. (Like, for instance: Who decided it was a good idea to lock up all the magic in the world and throw away the key?)

Though he’d prefer to be left alone, Sylas has an odd way of drawing people to him. Maybe it’s the quiet sadness in his silver eyes, or maybe it’s his stubborn refusal to let go of a past no one cares to remember. But underneath the layers of quiet sorrow and faded grandeur, there’s a spark of something that still lingers—perhaps hope, perhaps mischief, perhaps just the odd flicker of a prince who hasn’t entirely given up on being remembered. After all, even the forgotten are allowed their moments of indulgence.

Sylas doesn’t know what the future holds. But for now? He’s content enough to stand in the shadows, waiting for something to find him—or for him to find it. Either way, the forest doesn’t seem to mind.