The Supreme Realm floated above the mortal world, untouched by time, corruption, or mortal frailty. It existed in a constant state of balance, where the forces of life, death, light, and darkness intertwined in perfect harmony. Here, the air shimmered with a kind of serenity unknown to the human realm, and the skies, vast and endless, reflected the tranquility that only the celestial could know. It was a realm of unimaginable power, ruled by beings known as Guardians, celestial protectors who held the delicate balance of the universe in their hands.
At the top of this celestial hierarchy sat the Supreme Lord. A being of boundless power and wisdom, his very presence rippled through the realm, commanding respect and awe. He was responsible for the safeguarding of the cosmic balance, his every decision affecting the fates of worlds and the lives of billions. The Supreme Lord did not rule with an iron fist but with the weight of unspoken authority, ensuring that harmony between the realms remained unbroken.
However, the title of Supreme Lord was more than just a position of power. It was a mantle of responsibility, one that transcended the stars and carried with it the burden of overseeing the flow of existence. Yet, while the Supreme Lord held the highest position in the realm, his successor, the Supreme Leader, had remained vacant for centuries, waiting for the right moment when the current Lord would crown his heir.
Beneath the Supreme Lord was the Supreme Guardian, protector of both the Supreme Realm and the mortal world below. The Supreme Guardian ensured that the ancient laws governing the realms were never broken, that the flow between the two worlds remained intact, and that no darkness would seep into the balance. It was a position of both immense power and an almost crushing responsibility.
And among these Guardians, in the highest echelons, was Hiller, the son of the Supreme Lord.
From a young age, Hiller had been groomed for greatness. His destiny was clear: to one day assume the mantle of the Supreme Guardian, a title currently held by his father's most trusted lieutenant.
The weight of that expectation, however, was something Hiller had carried his entire life, and it often felt suffocating. His days were filled with lessons of ancient wisdom, training in the arts of combat and diplomacy, and the constant reminder that one day the balance of the entire universe would rest on his shoulders.
Hiller stood at the edge of the Celestial Palace, his gaze drifting toward the expanse of clouds that stretched beyond the horizon. The palace was a grand structure, its golden spires rising into the heavens, its floors made of shimmering marble that reflected the stars. It was beautiful, serene, yet to Hiller, it felt like a cage. He had grown up within these walls, surrounded by beauty, but it had come with an ever-present isolation. The weight of being the Supreme Lord's son was not one easily shared.
He clenched his fists, the tension of his own thoughts building as he wrestled with the constant expectation that seemed to follow him. His father had ruled for eons, his wisdom unmatched, his decisions unchallenged. Hiller admired him deeply, but there was a part of him that longed for something else, something more personal, more his own.
It wasn't that he didn't want to be the Supreme Guardian. He had been raised for it, and the responsibility was ingrained in him. But there was a void in his life, a sense that he was missing something, a purpose that extended beyond duty and destiny.
His mind wandered, as it often did, to the mortal world below. The humans, so fragile, so fleeting in their existence, lived without the constant weight of cosmic responsibility. They had no idea how often their lives were shaped by the unseen hands of the Guardians, the celestial beings who moved among them, protecting them from forces they could never understand.
Hiller had watched countless times as Guardians intervened in the human world.
A Common Guardian, young and eager, subtly redirecting the path of a falling boulder to save an oblivious village. A more experienced Guardian, disguised as a traveler, preventing a war by offering cryptic guidance to a conflicted king. And then there were the unseen acts, the whispers in the minds of healers, the nudges of courage in soldiers, the quiet guidance that shaped humanity without them ever knowing.
One such instance remained vivid in Hiller's memory. A Guardian named Thalor had intervened in a deadly plague that was sweeping across a small village. The humans had been dying in droves, their bodies wasting away as the sickness spread unchecked. Thalor, unseen, had descended among them, his presence altering the air, shifting the course of the wind. The plague had retreated, the air clearing, and the villagers, unaware of the celestial intervention, had credited their recovery to their gods.
In another instance, a Guardian named Lysandra had prevented the assassination of a monarch whose death would have plunged an entire region into chaos. Disguised as a servant, Lysandra had redirected the poison intended for the king's cup, saving him without a word. The king had lived, and his kingdom had thrived, unaware that their fate had been safeguarded by a celestial being.
These were the tasks of the Guardians, to protect, to guide, to ensure that humanity's path remained intact. And Hiller had watched, fascinated and envious, as they carried out their duties with purpose. His destiny, however, felt larger, heavier, something that extended beyond the mortal realm, something that carried with it the fate of entire worlds.
As the son of the Supreme Lord, Hiller knew his future was bound to the Supreme Realm. But there was a part of him that longed for the simplicity of those acts, for the chance to walk among the humans, to make a difference in their lives without the constant weight of his title. He wanted to find his own path, one that wasn't solely defined by the expectations placed upon him.
Just then, he felt a familiar presence beside him. It was Alisandre, one of the older Guardians and his mentor for much of his youth. She was wise and patient, often serving as the voice of reason in his moments of frustration.
"Your mind is troubled again," she said softly, her voice carrying the gentle weight of years. She stood beside him, her eyes gazing out over the same horizon.
Hiller sighed, his shoulders tensing. "It feels like everything is already decided for me," he admitted, his voice low. "Like my life has been written out before I've had the chance to live it."
Alisandre smiled faintly. "We all have our paths, Hiller. But that doesn't mean you can't make it your own. The Supreme Lord may have plans for you, but you still have a say in how you walk that path."
Hiller glanced at her, doubt flickering in his eyes. "And what if I want something different? What if I'm not ready to carry the weight of the universe on my shoulders?"
Alisandre's gaze softened, her hand resting gently on his arm. "No one is ever truly ready, Hiller. Not even your father, when he took on the mantle. But you will find your way. In time."
Hiller didn't respond, his gaze returning to the horizon. The mortal world seemed so far away, yet it called to him, a reminder of the simplicity he craved.