The kingdom's glowing barrier shimmered like liquid sunlight, a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness of the Abyss. Theros swam steadily, his wounds throbbing with each stroke. His armor was battered, his antlers chipped, and a bloodied scroll was strapped securely to his side—the only surviving record of their mission in the Abyss.
The border patrol spotted him quickly, their disciplined formation closing in. A tall, bronze-scaled dragon in half-shift led them, his spear raised in warning.
"Approaching figure—halt!" the commander barked. The patrol lined up defensively, their eyes scanning the figure with sharp precision.
As Theros approached, the glow of his golden antlers pierced through the waters. Recognition dawned on the commander, his posture stiffening as he lowered his weapon.
"Prince Theros?" he asked, a mixture of disbelief and relief in his tone.
Theros let out a weary chuckle, though his exhaustion dulled its usual bravado. "The one and only. Though I could use a little less drama next time I come home."
The commander saluted, his expression growing serious. "Your Highness, we've received no orders about your return. Are you in need of medical—"
Theros raised a hand, cutting him off. "I'll live," he said, though his tone was strained. "Just get me to the palace. There's something the king needs to see." He patted the scroll secured to his side.
The commander nodded sharply, signaling his squad to form an escort around the prince. They moved swiftly, guiding him toward the shimmering barrier.
The golden waters of the kingdom felt warm against Theros's skin as he passed through the barrier, but the comfort was fleeting. His eyes, dulled by fatigue, scanned the familiar surroundings. Every inch of the kingdom seemed vibrant and alive—a stark contrast to the suffocating void of the Abyss.
Guards stationed at the gates straightened as Theros approached. Their expressions flickered with surprise but quickly hardened into disciplined salutes.
"Prince Theros," one of them said, his voice steady despite the tension in his posture. "Welcome home."
Theros nodded, offering only a grunt in response. He pushed forward, his steps heavy as he approached the palace gates.
The chamber was quiet when Theros arrived, the council already gathered in session. News of his return had clearly preceded him; the pearl doors opened with a resonant hum, and all eyes turned toward him as he entered.
King Arman sat at the head of the council, his golden antlers gleaming under the chamber's soft light. His stern expression betrayed nothing, though the slightest flicker of relief passed through his eyes as he saw his son.
Queen Daenerys stood beside him, her hands clasped tightly. Her gaze swept over Theros's battered form, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"Theros," Arman said, his voice calm but edged with authority. "You've returned at last."
Theros bowed slightly, grimacing as the motion tugged at his wounds. "Father. Mother," he greeted, his voice steady despite his fatigue. He unfastened the scroll from his side, holding it up. "I've brought the details of our mission. This contains everything we learned in the Abyss."
A murmur rippled through the room. Queen Daenerys stepped forward, her expression softening slightly. "Vaelora and the others have already reported what they could," she said, her voice measured. "We feared the worst when they returned without you."
Theros gave a faint smirk, though his tone was subdued. "Took a bit longer to shake off the Abyss than I expected. But I couldn't let this"—he gestured to the scroll—"fall into the wrong hands."
Arman gestured for a steward to retrieve the scroll. "You've done well to return with it intact," he said, his tone grave. "Your crew spoke highly of your bravery."
Theros's smirk faded, replaced by a flicker of sorrow. "The Abyss... it's worse than any of us imagined. The Shadowborne aren't just stirring—they're moving with purpose. And the Abyss itself... it feels alive. We even met a shadow psycho who liked telling jokes. Can you believe it?"
The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling heavily over the council. Some of them rolled their eyes at the last remark; since when did the Shadowborne tell jokes? Only Theros had the guts to degrade their presence like that.
Arman's gaze hardened. "We will examine the scroll immediately. Your findings may prove crucial in preparing for what lies ahead."
Theros inclined his head, though his exhaustion was evident. "You'll find everything in there. But first..." He glanced toward his mother, who stepped forward with a concerned frown. "I could use some rest."
Queen Daenerys nodded firmly. "We'll see to it. You've done enough for now."
Arman rose from his seat, his towering form casting a long shadow across the chamber. "Theros," he said, his voice softer now. "You've returned. That is enough for today."
Theros met his father's gaze, a rare moment of understanding passing between them. He nodded, turning to leave the chamber. As the pearl doors closed behind him, the weight of the Abyss seemed to linger in the air—a grim reminder of the darkness yet to come.