Chapter 1

The sun hung low over Emberstone, casting long shadows across the courtyard as Leo stood silently by the royal window. He hadn't moved for hours, staring at the distant horizon, his thoughts tangled in the endless web of his father's death. The old king was gone. It felt unreal—like some dream that would dissolve the moment he awoke. But no matter how much Leo willed it to be a nightmare, the cold weight of responsibility remained.

The kingdom needed a king now, and the throne was his.

His father's sudden passing had come as a shock to everyone, though Leo had seen the signs. The king had been ill for months, his strength fading with each passing day. Yet no one had expected it to happen so soon. One moment, King Valtoros had been holding court, issuing orders with his usual authority, and the next... he was gone. A heart attack. That's what they said. A brief moment of pain, and then silence.

And now Leo stood in his father's study, the room that had once felt warm and safe now an oppressive chamber, its walls heavy with expectation. The grand oak desk, cluttered with royal decrees, was empty. The portraits of past kings and queens lined the walls, their eyes staring down at him, judging him silently. He could almost hear the whisper of their disapproval. His father's chair loomed at the head of the room, now vacant, its back turned to him.

Leo ran a hand through his dark hair, his fingers trembling slightly. He had never been prepared for this. Not for this moment, not for the burden that now weighed on him. At twenty-two, Leo had always known he would eventually inherit the throne, but he had imagined it would come later, after years of training, after more time to understand the intricacies of rule. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

A soft knock on the door snapped him out of his reverie.

"Your Highness?" A familiar voice called from the other side.

Leo turned to face the door. "Enter."

The door creaked open, and in stepped Jorah, his father's most trusted advisor. The older man's graying hair and stern expression were a constant in Leo's life, a symbol of the royal court's stability. But today, his face was tense, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Your Highness, the council is awaiting your presence," Jorah said, his voice measured, but the edge of worry was unmistakable. "They... they wish to discuss the matter of the throne."

Leo nodded slowly, his stomach twisting at the thought. The council had always been a shadow in the background of the kingdom's politics, a group of powerful nobles who held sway over the most important decisions. They would have no patience for a young king who was untested and uncertain. They would want answers. They would want control.

"I'll be there shortly," Leo replied, his voice hoarse. He wasn't ready. How could he be?

Jorah hesitated, his gaze lingering on Leo for a moment longer than necessary. "Your father would have wanted you to be strong, my lord. He would have wanted you to take charge."

Leo couldn't help but feel the weight of those words. He had always admired his father, had always been proud to be his son. But now that the mantle had passed to him, the words felt like a chain pulling him deeper into the unknown. There were no more lessons, no more time to prepare. There was only the throne, the crown, and the expectations of a kingdom that demanded to be ruled.

"I'll be there," Leo said again, though he wasn't sure he believed it.

Jorah gave him a final, calculating look before nodding and retreating, leaving Leo alone with his thoughts once more. The silence in the room pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating. He could feel the weight of the throne across the room, waiting for him to take it. But how could he? How could he sit there knowing the eyes of the entire kingdom were on him? He was a young man, untried, and untested. His father had been the king for decades. He had been a man of strength, wisdom, and ambition. What did Leo have to offer that could compare?

Leo glanced at the nearby table, where his father's personal items were laid out—a collection of old maps, scrolls, and a well-worn sword. His father's sword. The sword of Ashland. It had been passed down through generations of kings, a symbol of the royal bloodline. Leo had always thought of it as an artifact, a relic of the past, but now it felt like a burden. A reminder of what he was expected to be.

He walked over to the sword, his hand brushing the hilt. It was cold, unyielding. He had never held it before, never felt the weight of it in his hands. Now, as he gripped the handle, he wondered if he could ever live up to the legacy it represented.

A knock at the door again. This time, it was Mira, his closest confidante. She stepped into the room, her eyes soft but filled with determination. She had always been his strength, the person he turned to when the world felt too heavy. She was his childhood friend, his most trusted ally in the court, and her presence was like a balm to his nerves.

"Leo," she said, her voice gentle, but firm. "The council will wait for no one. They will expect you to act."

Leo turned to face her, his gaze weary. "How can I act when I have no idea what I'm doing?"

Mira's expression softened, and she stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You are more capable than you think. Your father saw something in you. He trusted you with this kingdom. The people trust you."

"I'm not ready," Leo admitted, his voice breaking slightly.

Mira's eyes softened with empathy, but there was no doubt in her expression. "None of us are ever truly ready. But that doesn't mean we don't rise to the occasion. Your father was great, yes. But you are Leo Valtoros, the son of a king. And you will make your own mark on this kingdom. We all will."

Leo felt a surge of emotion, a mixture of fear, determination, and something else—something that felt like hope, though he wasn't sure it was enough to carry him forward. "I don't want to fail them," he whispered.

"You won't," Mira said, her voice unwavering. "But you have to try. You can't do it alone, though. You have to trust the people who stand by you."

Leo nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. He was never going to feel ready, but he had no choice. The kingdom needed a king. And whether he was prepared or not, it was time for him to step into his father's shoes.

With one last glance at the sword on the table, Leo straightened himself and nodded at Mira. "Let's go. The council awaits."

---

As Leo walked out of the study and down the long, echoing halls of Emberstone, the weight of the crown seemed even heavier than before. But there was no turning back. This was his destiny now. He was the king. And it was time to begin the fight to keep the throne