Aleron stood in the heart of the shrine, the Book of Kings still open before him. Seraphina's words echoed in his mind, but they seemed distant now, muffled by the growing weight of what he was about to face.
The woman had spoken of magic, of a power that ran deeper than the mere title of king. She had spoken of the Void, but Aleron had heard only fragments of her explanation before his mind spiraled with doubt and confusion. This was a path he had never asked for—an inheritance of ancient power, a battle against a shadow that had not truly existed in his life until now.
Seraphina stepped forward, her movements silent, almost imperceptible in the dim light. Her silver eyes fixed on him, unblinking, as if she were reading his very soul.
"You're frightened," she said, her tone soft, yet it carried the weight of truth. "And who wouldn't be? You've inherited a kingdom on the brink of war and a power you've never known. But you are not alone in this. There are others like you—those who bear the blood of the ancients, who have been awakened to the threat of the Void."
Aleron clenched his jaw. "I don't want this power. I never asked for it." The words tasted bitter, but they were true. His mind swirled with a sense of helplessness, of being pulled toward something he had no understanding of.
Seraphina's gaze softened, though the intensity of her presence did not waver. "I know. But power, whether you want it or not, is a part of who you are. You must learn to control it, to understand it before it consumes you. You've only begun to scratch the surface, Aleron."
He turned his gaze back to the book. The words on the pages shimmered in a language that felt ancient, like the very bones of the earth. "How can I understand it? How do I control something I don't even know exists within me?"
Seraphina's lips curled into the faintest of smiles. "You must connect with it. The magic in your blood, in your bones, is older than the kingdom itself. It is tied to the land, to the stars above, to the very forces that shape the world. But it is dormant. It has been dormant for centuries, waiting for the right heir to awaken it."
Aleron's fingers traced the ancient script on the page, feeling a pulse of energy at his touch. It was as though the book itself was alive, reacting to him, urging him to read further. His heart pounded, his mind a blur of conflicting thoughts.
"You must learn to listen," Seraphina continued, her voice barely a whisper now. "The magic speaks in a language of feeling, of instinct. It is not something you can study or memorize. It is something you must experience."
Aleron shook his head, unable to quiet the storm of uncertainty within him. "I'm not ready," he said quietly, the weight of the world pressing down on him. "I'm not like her. I'm not like my mother."
Seraphina's eyes flickered with something he couldn't quite place, a hint of sorrow, perhaps, or understanding. "Your mother was not born a queen, Aleron. She was chosen, just as you were. And like her, you will rise when the time comes. But you must be willing to accept who you are. You cannot run from your destiny."
The words struck him like a blow to the chest. His mother had never shown him the full extent of the magic, never allowed him to truly grasp the burden of his heritage. Perhaps she had hoped that he would never have to bear it. But here, in the silence of the shrine, with the weight of the past pressing down on him, Aleron could no longer ignore the truth.
"Tell me what I must do," he said, his voice quiet but resolute.
Seraphina's gaze sharpened, her lips parting as if to speak. But before she could answer, the sound of a distant crash echoed through the shrine. Aleron's head snapped up, his instincts on high alert. The air around them shifted, growing colder, heavier, as if the very fabric of reality was trembling in response to the disturbance.
"Someone is coming," Seraphina said, her voice low and filled with an edge of urgency. "We must go. Now."
Aleron didn't question her. He closed the Book of Kings with a snap, feeling a strange reluctance to leave it behind, but there was no time to dwell on it. He grabbed the reins of his horse, still tethered nearby, and mounted quickly, his mind racing.
Seraphina moved with fluid precision, already atop her own horse, ready to ride. Without another word, she spurred her mount into motion, and Aleron followed suit. The horses galloped through the forest, the sounds of pursuit growing closer with each passing moment.
"What is happening?" Aleron called out as he pushed his horse harder.
"Danger is already upon us," Seraphina replied, her voice tense. "The Void's influence is not just some distant threat, Aleron. It is here, in the kingdom, in the very air we breathe."
Aleron's heart skipped a beat. He had hoped that by coming here, by seeking answers, he might have gained some semblance of control. But instead, he was being thrust into a deeper unknown.
The wind whipped through his hair as they rode faster, the world around them blurring in the chaos of their escape. Then, just as quickly as it had started, the pursuit stopped. The sounds of hooves faded, and the forest fell into a stillness that felt unnatural.
Seraphina pulled her horse to a halt, and Aleron did the same, his eyes scanning the darkening trees around them. The sense of foreboding grew stronger with each passing moment.
"We're not alone," Seraphina whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of their horses' hooves.
A sudden flash of movement caught Aleron's eye—a shadow darting between the trees, too fast for him to track. His instincts kicked in, and he drew his sword, his grip tight on the hilt.
From the depths of the forest, an answer came—a low, guttural growl that sent a chill down his spine.
Something was hunting them.