The day was bright, but a thick tension loomed in the air.
Two kings sat across from each other in a beautifully adorned garden pavilion, where the faint scent of jasmine mingled with the rich aroma of the tea. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting golden rays across the pavilion. King Caelan, ruler of Eryndor, leaned back slightly in his chair, taking in the serene surroundings. His dark hair, streaked with the faintest touch of silver, caught the sunlight, and his sharp golden eyes reflected the warmth of the evening glow. Across from him sat King Dorian, lord of the kingdom of Valenor, his once youthful face now etched with the subtle lines of many years of conflict and decisions—some regrettable, some not.
Between them, the Golden Cage rested. An artifact of unimaginable power. It was an ancient relic—both kingdoms had fought, bled, and sacrificed to claim it, a symbol of ultimate authority and dominance over time itself. The delicate latticework shimmered in the evening light, its magic dormant, yet ominously present.
Caelan raised his cup to his lips, sipping the tea slowly, feeling the warmth seep through his body. For a fleeting moment, there was a sense of peace, as though they were just two old friends sharing an evening together—two cousins who had once dreamt of changing the world, of building something greater. He looked across at Dorian, his old companion. The two had grown up together, once inseparable, bound by bonds deeper than blood. But now, as rulers of rival kingdoms, their relationship had grown strained, weighed down by the burdens of leadership and the pursuit of their ambitions.
Dorian set down his own cup, his deep brown eyes unreadable, and spoke with an unusual softness in his voice. "It's strange, isn't it? How quickly the years pass. How easily everything can change."
Caelan gave a slow nod, unsure of where Dorian's mind was drifting. "It is," he agreed. "Sometimes it feels like no time has passed at all. And yet… so much has."
Silence followed. Caelan took another sip of tea, but this time, something was different. His vision wavered, just for a moment, like a faint ripple in a still pond. He blinked, trying to shake off the strange sensation, but it persisted. The edges of his sight began to blur, colors blending and distorting. He frowned, placing the cup down on the table, but his hand trembled slightly.
"Dorian..." Caelan's voice faltered as he looked at his cousin. "What did you—?"
His words trailed off as his vision darkened. His limbs felt heavy, as though his body no longer belonged to him. The edges of his consciousness started to slip, but not before he saw Dorian rise from his seat. The Golden Cage was now in Dorian's hands, its faint glow casting a haunting light on his face.
"I'm sorry, Caelan," Dorian said quietly, his voice calm, steady. His expression was not one of cruelty, nor malice—it was resolute, filled with the heavy weight of inevitability. "It had to be done. For the sake of everything we've built. You wouldn't understand."
Caelan struggled to speak, but his tongue felt thick, uncooperative. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor of the pavilion. As he lay there, gasping, his fingers twitching uselessly at his side, his gaze never left Dorian. His vision was fading fast, but he could still see his old friend standing there, with the Golden Cage gleaming softly in his hands.
"I... trusted you..." Caelan managed to choke out, his breath shallow.
"I know," Dorian replied, his tone unwavering, though there was a flicker of regret in his eyes. "And I regret that it had to come to this. But if I had to make the same choice again, I wouldn't hesitate. You... you never understood the true cost of this power."
Caelan's heart pounded in his chest, each beat slower and more labored than the last. His body was shutting down. He could feel the poison coursing through his veins, burning, paralyzing. But the pain in his chest wasn't just physical—it was the realization that Dorian had betrayed him. The friend, the brother, the cousin he had shared so much with. They had been through wars, victories, losses. They had shared dreams once.
Now, it all crumbled around him.
As Dorian turned to leave, walking away with the Golden Cage in his grip, Caelan could only watch helplessly, his strength leaving him. His vision blurred even further, and the last image burned into his mind was of Dorian's back, slowly fading into the horizon.
"Where... did it go wrong?" Caelan's voice was barely a whisper as his consciousness slipped away entirely.
Everything faded to black.
The world spun, time twisted and unraveled.
And then, there was light again.
Years earlier, at the Central Academy...
Caelan felt the warmth of the sun on his face as he stepped onto the grounds of the Central Academy of Eldranor, a place where the best and brightest from all the kingdoms came to train. The academy was a sprawling estate, nestled in the heart of neutral territory, where politics mattered less and personal achievement reigned supreme. For many, this was the first step toward leadership, toward greatness.
Caelan was just fourteen then, tall for his age, with a lithe build and the beginnings of the confidence that would later define him. His hair was silver, with no trace of the dark that time would later etch into it, and his bright blue eyes were wide with curiosity and ambition. This was a new chapter in his life, the start of something extraordinary.
He had heard tales of the academy since he was a boy, stories of legendary warriors, wise rulers, and brilliant strategists who had walked these very grounds. Now, it was his turn. He would prove himself. He would show them all what he was capable of.
As he strode through the stone archway that led into the main courtyard, he saw other young nobles and students scattered across the grounds, all dressed in the academy's simple, elegant uniforms—dark blues and golds, symbols of their collective potential. Some were sparring in the training yards, while others huddled over books in shaded alcoves, deep in study.
It was here that Caelan would meet the boy who would change his life forever.
He didn't see him at first, too focused on taking in the grandeur of the academy. But as he made his way toward the registration hall, a voice rang out from behind him.
"Hey! You're Caelan, right? From Eryndor?"
Caelan turned to see a boy his age walking toward him. The boy's confident stride and easy smile set him apart from the others. He had dark brown hair that fell slightly into his eyes, and his warm brown gaze was sharp, but not unkind. His posture radiated self-assuredness, even at this young age.
"Yes, that's me," Caelan replied, straightening up slightly, not wanting to appear taken off guard. "And you are?"
"Dorian," the boy said, offering a hand. "From Valenor."
The name Valenor triggered an instant recognition in Caelan's mind. The neighboring kingdom—Valenor and Eryndor had always been close, bound by history and blood. And yet, this boy wasn't just any noble. This was the prince of Valenor, the boy Caelan had heard so much about but never met. The two were cousins, but due to the complexities of royal duties and distance, their paths had never crossed.
"So," Dorian said, grinning as he clasped Caelan's hand firmly, "looks like we're going to be spending a lot of time together."
Caelan smiled back, feeling the weight of the moment. They were both heirs to their respective kingdoms, both destined for greatness. And here, at the academy, they would hone their skills, their knowledge, their strength. What Caelan didn't know then was that this first meeting, this handshake, would mark the beginning of a bond that would one day break in ways he could never have foreseen.
They spent the next few hours getting acquainted as they walked through the academy grounds, exploring the grand halls and endless corridors. Dorian was easy to talk to, with a charisma that drew people in. He had a way of making Caelan feel as though they'd known each other for years, despite having just met.
They quickly learned that they shared many things in common—the same drive, the same determination, the same desire to shape their kingdoms into something more. But where Caelan was calculating and introspective, Dorian was bold and decisive. Together, they balanced each other out, even in their youth.
"I heard the academy's combat trials are brutal," Dorian said with an eager grin as they approached the sparring grounds. "What do you say we test each other out?"
Caelan smirked. "You sure you're ready for that?"
Dorian laughed; his eyes gleaming. "Always."
The academy was not just a place for learning; it was a crucible. It would test them both—push them, mold them, force them to confront their strengths and their weaknesses. Together, they would face trials, overcome obstacles, and grow into the leaders their kingdoms needed.
But as the years would pass, that same bond that was forged in camaraderie and brotherhood would be tested. Trust would give way to ambition, and friendship would yield to betrayal.
And somewhere, amidst the laughter, the rivalry, and the dreams of the future, the seeds of their eventual downfall were already being sown.
Caelan could not have known that the boy beside him, his friend, his cousin, would one day stand over him with a cup of poisoned tea, holding the Golden Cage—The Aeterna Vox—the very thing that had brought them together and would one day tear them apart.
The future was still unwritten. But time had a way of unraveling even the deepest of bonds.
And for now, the two kings were merely boys, full of hope and promise, unaware of the dark path that lay ahead.