The great King Vallios had summoned his sons to return and present what they had accomplished in their assigned realms. After years of conquest and battle, it was time for them to prove themselves worthy of the throne. Each prince had fought his own war, overcome trials, and claimed his victories. Now, they would face their father and be judged for their deeds.
Messengers were sent out to the four realms. When Prince Helard received the message, his heart swelled with pride. He had triumphed in the Merman Realm, his flames forging a path of dominance. The mermen had no choice but to bow to his might, though the victory had been hard-earned. He packed his greatest trophy—the Pearl of the Ancient Sea, a treasure of incomparable value, and began his journey home, eager to bask in his father's approval.
Prince Wilord, too, had found success. The war with the icy tortoises had tested his patience and strength, but now, only a few of the creatures remained in the icy wastes. His mastery over water had grown, and though he had struggled at first, he learned to turn their own ice against them. His prize was the shell of the first icy tortoise he had subdued, a massive, gleaming relic of his triumph. He prepared to return, feeling confident in what he had achieved.
Prince Gust, for his part, had managed to bring down hundreds of the Earthen Serpents in his realm. His winds, though initially ineffective, had evolved into sharp, deadly gusts that could pierce even the toughest hides. He had slain many of the serpents, though the realm was far from fully conquered. Still, he would return proudly, with the serpent skins he had collected as proof of his strength.
The day finally arrived when all the princes would return to the capital. The grand city buzzed with excitement, as the people gathered to witness the reunion of the royal family. King Vallios sat on his towering throne, his expression calm but stern, awaiting the arrival of his sons.
The first to arrive was Prince Gust, flying in with his usual flair. His slender figure glided through the sky, and the people marveled at the serpent skins he brought with him. They were massive, glistening trophies that spoke of the fierce battles he had fought. He landed gracefully before the king, bowing with pride.
Next came Prince Wilord, his arrival announced by the sound of rushing water. He rode in on a great tidal wave that crashed softly onto the palace steps. His icy tortoise shell gleamed in the sunlight, and the people gasped at the size and beauty of the relic. Wilord's calm demeanor masked his pride as he knelt before his father.
Then, with fire in the sky, Prince Helard made his entrance. His long, red hair flowed like flames behind him, and his ember eyes blazed with confidence. The crowd was dazzled by his presence, for Helard had always been the most striking of the brothers. He walked with a burning pride, carrying the Pearl of the Ancient Sea, a shimmering orb that glowed with an ethereal light. It was said to be the most valuable treasure in the entire Merman Realm, and the people marveled at its brilliance. Helard took his place beside his brothers, his head held high.
The three princes stood in a line, their trophies displayed before them, awaiting their father's judgment. But as the moments passed, they began to wonder: Where is Prince Trallod?
Suddenly, the sound of trumpets echoed through the city, and the ground began to tremble. The people turned their eyes toward the horizon, and what they saw made their jaws drop in awe.
Marching in perfect unison, a column of massive stone golems approached the capital. Each one towered over the tallest buildings, their footsteps shaking the earth. In their hands, they carried the banner of Prince Trallod, the flag rippling in the wind. Behind them, a pack of Thundering Wolves padded silently, their eyes crackling with energy, fur bristling with lightning.
And at the center of it all, riding atop a massive stone chariot pulled by the golems, was Prince Trallod.
His presence was overwhelming. Clad in simple stone armor that seemed to meld with the earth, Trallod exuded power without saying a word. The ground itself seemed to rise in reverence beneath his feet. He looked calm, composed, and unlike his brothers, there was no need for grandeur or fiery displays. His power was in the earth itself.
The crowd was silent, their eyes wide in astonishment. Even King Vallios, who had seen countless battles and ruled over kingdoms, leaned forward in his throne, intrigued by what his youngest son had become.
As Trallod's army reached the steps of the palace, the golems halted, their movements smooth and deliberate. The wolves sat at attention, their electric gaze locked on the king. Trallod dismounted and walked toward his father, his steps making the ground beneath him pulse with life.
He bowed, and the entire realm seemed to hold its breath.
"My king," Trallod said, his voice calm but commanding, "I have returned, as you requested."
Behind him, the city of stone he had built in the Realm of the Thundering Wolves was no longer just a distant rumor—it had become a reality that marched before the eyes of the kingdom. His army of golems, his realm's loyalty, and the harmony he had forged with the creatures of the earth spoke for themselves.
As Trallod took his place beside his brothers, the people could not help but feel that something had shifted. Where his brothers had brought trophies of their victories, Trallod had brought a kingdom that was truly his.
King Vallios remained silent for a moment, his gaze sweeping over each of his sons. The moment of judgment was near.
But even before the king spoke, the people whispered among themselves. The prince who had not sought power had come with the greatest display of it.
And they wondered: Could anyone else possibly compare to the Calamity?