Aleron rode alone through the forest, the heavy thud of his horse's hooves against the dirt path the only sound that accompanied him. The air was thick with mist, the towering trees around him looming like silent sentinels. He had been traveling for days, leaving the capital behind in search of answers, of guidance.
His mind was still heavy with the council's words, their concerns about the kingdom's unraveling. The Void's influence had already begun to spread through the southern territories, and rumors of strange happenings in the north had only added to his unease. But there was something else gnawing at him—a feeling he couldn't quite place. Something deeper than the mere politics and power struggles.
It was the magic. The legacy that ran through his veins, a power he had never fully understood. His mother had always told him to wait for the right time, to trust in the magic when the moment arrived. But what did that mean? How could he trust something he had never known?
His horse slowed as they approached a clearing. At its center stood a solitary structure, hidden deep within the forest—a forgotten shrine to the first king of Varyath. It was a place his mother had often visited, but she had never spoken of it in detail. She had only ever said that the answers he sought could be found here, beneath the old stone and the remnants of ancient magic.
The shrine was weathered by centuries of neglect, its once-pristine carvings faded and chipped, but it still exuded an aura of power. The stone pillars that surrounded it seemed to hum with an energy that made the hairs on the back of Aleron's neck stand on end.
He dismounted, his boots crunching on the gravel as he approached the entrance. The air here felt different—charged, as though the very land itself was holding its breath.
As Aleron stepped inside, a sense of quiet reverence fell over him. The space was dim, lit only by the pale light filtering through the cracks in the stone. The altar at the center of the shrine was covered in moss, but it was still intact. Upon it lay an ancient book, its pages yellowed with age, its leather binding cracked with time. The sight of it sent a jolt through Aleron's chest.
The Book of Kings.
It was said to hold the secrets of the royal bloodline, the lost knowledge of the first kings, and the magic that had been passed down through generations. Aleron had never seen the book before, but the stories his mother had told him about it had always lingered in his mind. The book was key—key to understanding the magic, the prophecy, and his role in all of it.
His fingers brushed the worn cover, and he could feel a pulse of energy radiating from within the book itself, as if it recognized his touch. He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he was ready to unlock the secrets contained within its pages. But there was no time to waste. The kingdom was on the brink, and he needed to understand the forces at work before it was too late.
With a deep breath, Aleron opened the book.
The pages flipped with a faint whisper, the words appearing as if by magic before his eyes. The ancient script was unfamiliar, yet somehow it felt... natural. As though he had always known how to read it. His heart quickened as he read aloud the first passage that came to his mind:
"The blood of the first king flows through the heir's veins, bound to the earth and the stars. The Void will return, and with it, the kingdom shall fall unless the heir rises with the power of the ancients."
The words echoed in the silent chamber, their weight pressing down on Aleron's chest. The Void, the ancient enemy of his bloodline, was real. And the prophecy was clear: unless he wielded the power of the first kings, Varyath would be consumed by darkness.
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft rustle behind him. Aleron spun, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. But there was no threat. Standing in the doorway was a figure cloaked in shadow, a woman whose features were obscured by her hood.
"I see you've found it," the woman said, her voice low and melodic, like a song carried by the wind.
Aleron's grip on his sword loosened slightly, though his senses remained alert. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice steady, despite the unease creeping up his spine.
The woman stepped forward, revealing a face that was both familiar and strange. She had the sharp features of a warrior, but her eyes—silver, gleaming with a strange light—held a depth of knowledge that unsettled him.
"I am Seraphina," she said, her gaze never leaving the book in Aleron's hands. "Your mother knew I would come when the time was right. She entrusted me with a task—to ensure you were ready."
Aleron's mind raced. Seraphina. The name stirred something deep within him, but he could not place it. "Ready for what?" he asked, his voice cold with suspicion.
Seraphina smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it. "Ready to face the power you have inherited, ready to face the Void. I was sent to guide you—to help you unlock the power within. But time is short, Aleron. The Void grows stronger, and Varyath is not the only kingdom in danger."
Aleron's breath caught in his throat as the weight of her words sank in. He had hoped for answers, but now he was faced with more questions. The kingdom's fate, his legacy, and the power of his bloodline—everything was shifting, and he was being pulled into a storm he was not yet ready to face.
But there was no turning back now.