Kalen's boots echoed in the marble halls of the castle as he made his way toward the council chambers. His thoughts, however, were far from the political matters awaiting him inside. The more he pondered the journal his father had left behind, the more he sensed that something larger than mere magic had been at play in the fall of the empire—and the deeper he went into his father's research, the darker the path seemed to become.
As he passed by the tapestry-lined walls, a fleeting shadow caught his eye. It was a figure, darting in and out of view between columns. Kalen's hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, though he quickly dismissed the impulse. This was no assassin—his castle was still safe from such threats. But it didn't stop the uneasy feeling that gnawed at him.
"Your Highness," a voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned to see Lady Elira, the royal advisor, emerging from the shadows of the hallway. Her eyes were sharp, yet warm, always calculating but never without compassion. She was one of the few people Kalen trusted implicitly, though even she had her secrets.
"Elira," he greeted her with a nod, his tone tired. "I don't have time for pleasantries. The council—"
"It can wait," she interrupted smoothly. "There are more pressing matters at hand."
Kalen raised an eyebrow. "More pressing than the kingdom's future?"
Elira stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You've been to the archives again, haven't you?"
His silence was answer enough.
"I've told you not to delve too deeply into your father's records," she said, glancing nervously around, as if the walls themselves might be listening. "Those documents are... dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Kalen echoed. "How can history be dangerous? My father believed there was something vital in those texts. Something that could save this kingdom."
"Elira…" Kalen's voice hardened as he caught her gaze. "You know more than you've let on. You've been in those archives as well, haven't you?"
The advisor stiffened, her lips pressing into a thin line. Her evasiveness was telling, but Kalen didn't push. Not yet.
"I will not stop, Elira," he said quietly. "I have to know what happened to him. Why he left—why he vanished without a trace. There's something he didn't want me to find… and I'm going to find it."
The weight of his words hung in the air between them. Elira studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable.
"I can help you," she finally said. "But you must promise me this, Kalen: if you truly wish to understand your father's fate, you must be ready to face what comes next. There are forces at play in Nuralar far beyond your understanding. Some of them are ancient. And they won't be pleased you're looking into things they've long since forgotten."
Kalen's pulse quickened. "What do you mean?"
She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't have time to explain now. Just—be careful. Whatever your father uncovered, it was more than just power. It was a curse. And it's not finished with this kingdom. Not yet."
Before he could ask more, Elira turned sharply, her footsteps echoing as she quickly walked down the hallway and disappeared into the shadows of the castle.
Kalen stood frozen for a moment, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He had always trusted Elira, but now—now, doubt had crept into his mind. What had she meant by "forces" and "ancient curses"? And why had she tried so desperately to keep him away from his father's secrets?
He knew now that the journey ahead would not just be about uncovering the past. It would be about surviving the dangers that lurked in its wake.
With renewed determination, Kalen turned back toward the council chambers. The kingdom might need him to rule, but it was the kingdom's past—his father's past—that would shape the future.