The Kingdom of Varyath was ancient, its stone walls weathered by centuries of storms and bloodshed. The royal family had ruled unchallenged for generations, their bloodline a symbol of strength and unity. Yet, as the stars aligned on the night of the eclipse, a shadow far older than any king or queen began to stir.
In the heart of the royal palace, Queen Seraphine, once a beacon of grace and wisdom, lay dying. Her skin had paled, her breath shallow, and her once regal features now twisted in pain. She had been poisoned—slowly, deliberately. But even in her final moments, she did not fear. She had known this day would come. The signs had all been clear.
"The Last Heir shall rise when the Void returns," the prophecy had whispered to her in her youth, a riddle veiled in mystery. Now, the darkness was upon them.
Her fingers clutched the relic at her side—a jeweled amulet passed down through generations, a key to the royal family's ancient magic. It was said to hold the power of the first kings, a remnant of a time when the world was ruled by dragons and gods walked among men. With a final, labored breath, she whispered the words she had kept secret from all but a few: "The Void... it will come... and Aleron... must be ready."
Her eyes fluttered closed as the shadow of death swept over her, but her spirit lingered, bound to the relic, to the prophecy, and to the fate of the kingdom. She had always believed in the prophecy, but now, as the darkness encroached upon them all, she could only hope her son would prove strong enough to fulfill it.
Outside the chamber, the wind howled through the corridors of the palace, the sound carrying the whispers of an ancient evil that had lain dormant for centuries. The Void. It had been forgotten by most, its name scarcely spoken, yet its return had been foretold. And with its return, a new heir was to rise. An heir who would wield the power to challenge the Void itself.
As the last of the queen's light faded from the room, the amulet at her side pulsed with a faint glow—barely perceptible, but undeniable. The magic of the royal bloodline was stirring.
Somewhere in the kingdom, a boy lay sleeping. A boy whose name had been whispered by the old seers, whose destiny had been written in the stars long before his birth.
Aleron.
He, the lost heir, would one day inherit the kingdom and face a threat far greater than any king before him had known. But not yet. Not until the time was right.