Prince Trallod, the youngest of the four brothers, was always different. While his brothers thirsted for power and sought to claim their father's throne, Trallod had never been interested in such pursuits. He understood, deep in his core, that he already possessed all the power he needed. Unlike his brothers, whose desires were driven by ambition and control, Trallod craved only one thing—freedom.
This competition, this conquest, was an opportunity. It wasn't the allure of ruling a realm or gaining his father's favor that excited him—it was the chance to be far from the constraints of royal life, to roam free and explore the world on his own terms. For Trallod, freedom was not something to be gained by sitting on a throne. It was something to be lived, day by day, untethered by expectations.
When he stepped into the Realm of the Thundering Wolves, he felt the surge of untapped potential beneath his feet. The air crackled with electricity, the energy of the mighty beasts that roamed the land. The Thundering Wolves, creatures of lightning and speed, were already aware of his presence. They knew the prince had come to conquer their realm, and they were prepared to defend it with their lives.
As soon as Trallod set foot on the ground, the wolves sprang into action. Their fur bristled with static, and their glowing eyes locked onto the prince with an intensity that could only mean one thing—war. They charged at him, their bodies crackling with the raw power of lightning. But Trallod, calm and unshaken, watched them approach without fear.
As they neared him, the earth beneath their paws trembled. Trallod's connection to the ground was absolute, and with every step he took, the earth responded to his will. He didn't need to raise a hand or utter a spell—his mere presence was enough to bend the land to his command.
"No matter how powerful you are," Trallod spoke, his voice resonating with authority, "as long as you stand on the ground, you are already dancing in the palm of my hands."
The wolves, fearless and relentless, leaped at him, their fangs bared and their bodies enveloped in streaks of lightning. But as they touched the earth, the ground beneath them shifted and opened up. With a thunderous roar, the very land swallowed them whole. The wolves yelped and growled, but they could not escape the grasp of the earth. In an instant, they were buried, consumed by the soil as if they had never existed.
Prince Trallod continued his walk, his steps deliberate and steady. Every footfall caused the ground to ripple in response, creating fissures and cracks that spread across the land. The earth obeyed his thoughts, reacting to his will without hesitation. Every beast that dared to confront him was swallowed by the earth, vanishing into the depths as if the realm itself had turned against its own inhabitants.
The Thundering Wolves, known for their ferocity and unmatched speed, found themselves powerless against Trallod. Their lightning, which could destroy mountains and rend the skies, was useless against the prince who wielded the ground beneath their feet. No matter how fast they moved, no matter how strong their attacks, they could not escape the reach of the earth.
For Trallod, this was not a battle—it was a simple demonstration of his power. The ground was his domain, and in this realm, nothing could stand against him. As he walked, the land bent to his will, killing every being that sought to stop him. He was unstoppable, not because he desired victory, but because the earth itself made him invincible.
His journey through the realm was one of effortless domination. Where his brothers faced trials that tested their powers and ingenuity, Trallod simply walked forward, and the land did the work for him. The ground trembled beneath his feet, obeying his every thought and command. The Thundering Wolves, for all their might, stood no chance against the prince who was one with the earth.
Yet, despite his overwhelming power, Trallod felt no joy in his conquest. This was not the challenge he had hoped for. He was not interested in ruling this realm or subjugating its inhabitants. His only desire was to be free, to roam the lands without restriction. But as long as he was bound to this competition, bound to his father's command, true freedom eluded him.
With the wolves defeated and the land beneath him under his control, Trallod could have easily claimed victory. But he did not rush to declare himself the ruler of the Thundering Wolves' realm. Instead, he paused, looking out over the horizon, his thoughts drifting to the future.
"This is not my throne to seek," he murmured to himself. "Let my brothers fight for the crown. I care not for it. Freedom is all I seek, and no matter where I walk, the ground will follow me."
Prince Trallod continued his march through the realm, knowing that no force could stop him. The land bent to his will, and with each step he took, he felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. He was free—at least for now.