The golden glow of the chamber, resonating with a pulse of ancient, mystical energy, was both a comfort and a burden to Balthazar. He sat back on his massive throne, the intricately-carved seat gleaming faintly in the light of his golden antlers. Their ethereal shimmer was dim compared to the storm of thoughts brewing within his mind.
"Could his birth truly have sparked this change?" he muttered, his voice a low, rumbling echo that reverberated through the chamber.
The unnamed prince—his grandson—had yet to utter his first coherent word or take his first step, yet already his existence had altered the world. The dragon kingdom, nestled beneath the ocean's depths, felt renewed. But with this renewal came unease. Even for one as seasoned as Balthazar, the implications of such power were daunting.
He rose to his feet, a ripple of energy coursing through the chamber. Ancient artifacts surrounding him, from weapons to amulets, hummed faintly in response to their master's movement. His golden scales caught the light, radiating a power that belied his unease.
This power—his breakthrough to the Divinity Spark Ignition Realm—was an achievement unseen in eons. It was the kind of power that stirred the slumbering ambitions of the outside world, igniting both hope and dread.
"We must prepare," Balthazar declared, his golden eyes narrowing with resolve. "The enemies who sought our annihilation once will rise again."
His memories drifted to the great catastrophe—a dark, incomprehensible time when the royal dragons had nearly been extinguished. Though the specifics were lost to most, to Balthazar, they remained a scar on his soul. The survival of their kind had come at a cost, and with the kingdom's newfound vigor, old scars might soon reopen.
Azarios's vessel cut through the shimmering waters, its enormous seahorse mount pulsing faintly with bioluminescent light. Flanking him were his squad, ever vigilant, and his younger brother Theros, who had insisted on joining the journey.
"Admit it," Theros said with his trademark grin, leaning on the ship's railing. His golden antlers caught the shifting light as the vessel glided through the depths. "This would've been a dull voyage without me."
Azarios didn't look up from the map he was studying, though his lips twitched ever so slightly. "Your absence would have been a quieter voyage."
Theros let out a booming laugh, clapping Azarios on the back with a force that would've staggered anyone less sturdy. "You're welcome!"
Though Theros's boisterous antics grated on Azarios at times, he secretly appreciated his younger brother's presence. Theros was a grounding force in his own chaotic way—a reminder that even in the face of duty and danger, there was room for levity.
As the kingdom's gates loomed ahead, their grandeur unmatched beneath the ocean's surface, the brothers fell silent. The city was teeming with life. Seafolk bustled about, their energy palpable, their vibrant scales shining as if freshly polished. Even the creatures of the sea moved with unusual purpose, their forms seemingly larger, more robust.
"Something's different," Azarios murmured, his sharp golden eyes scanning the scene.
"For once, you're not wrong," Theros replied, unusually subdued. "It's like everyone got a dose of divine energy."
Upon reaching the gates, the brothers were greeted with bows and whispers of reverence. A servant stepped forward, bowing deeply.
"Your Highnesses, the king and queen await you in the palace. Their Majesties have requested your presence without delay."
Azarios inclined his head, his composure regal and commanding. "Lead the way."
Theros, on the other hand, clapped the servant on the shoulder with a grin. "You heard him. Let's get to it before my brother's mood sours further!"
The servant, visibly torn between decorum and laughter, hurried ahead.
Inside the palace, the brothers ascended the grand staircase, its walls lined with intricate carvings depicting the history of the kingdom. The great catastrophe was etched subtly into the stone, the details deliberately vague.
"Even the walls are smiling today," Theros quipped, gesturing at the golden glow reflecting off the polished stone. "What, did the prince's roar brighten up the architecture too?"
Azarios shot him a glance but remained silent, his focus on the nursery's direction.
As they entered the royal chambers, their parents awaited them. King Arman and Queen Daenerys stood side by side, regal and commanding, while Kayla leaned casually against a pillar, her golden eyes glinting with mischief.
"Azarios and Theros," Kayla greeted, her smile teasing. "What an unlikely pair to see together."
"Kayla," Theros replied with mock hurt, spreading his arms wide. "Your favorite brother returns, and this is the thanks I get?"
"You're hardly my favorite," she countered, though her tone was warm.
Daenerys stepped forward, enveloping them both in a rare, maternal embrace. "It is good to have you home. Both of you."
Arman's eyes, however, were fixed on Azarios. "Your timing couldn't be better," he said, though his voice carried an edge of concern. "The young prince... his presence has changed everything."
"Speaking of," Theros interjected, his grin returning. "Where's the little miracle I've been hearing so much about?"
A faint cry echoed from the nursery, silencing the room. It was a sound like no other—an otherworldly resonance that seemed to vibrate through the very stones of the palace. Even Theros, the ever-confident rascal, paused, his grin fading.
"That," he said softly, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "That's no ordinary child."
Azarios exchanged a glance with his father. The gravity of the situation was clear: the world was shifting, and at its center was a child who had yet to speak his first word.