The sun had barely risen, casting a faint golden glow over the dense trees that surrounded the small village of Erathar. Jackim stood at the edge of the forest, his gaze distant, lost in thought. The air was thick with an eerie stillness, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Beneath the calm, however, something stirred in his heart—an unsettling sense that today would be different, that his life was on the cusp of change.
He had always felt an inexplicable weight on his shoulders, as though something beyond his control was pulling him toward an unknown destiny. Raised far from the glimmering lights of the royal courts, Jackim had lived a simple life, working as a blacksmith's apprentice. He'd never known his true parentage, though there were whispers among the village elders—strange tales of a hidden prince, one who had vanished without a trace years ago.
For as long as he could remember, Jackim had felt out of place. The villagers had always treated him with respect, but there was something different about him—something they couldn't quite name. Perhaps it was the strange dreams that plagued him at night, or the way his senses seemed sharper than those of the other villagers. But these thoughts were often dismissed as mere curiosity. He didn't dare question them.
That was until last night.
A letter had arrived, delivered by a mysterious courier whose face was hidden beneath a dark hood. The paper was old, worn with age, and the ink was faded, as if it had been written long ago. But the words were clear:
"You are the last of the royal bloodline. The throne awaits you, Jackim. But there are those who would see you dead before you ever reach it. You are not safe."
The letter had seemed like a cruel joke at first. Jackim had laughed, tossing it aside. But as the night wore on, doubt crept into his mind. What if there was truth in the letter? What if everything he had known was a lie? The thought sent a chill down his spine. He could no longer ignore the feeling in his gut—that something was out there, waiting for him.
The letter also spoke of Tielen, a name Jackim had never heard before. "Find Tielen," it had said. "He will help you discover the truth."
The journey would not be easy, the letter warned. Enemies were already in motion, and Jackim was not prepared for what lay ahead. But there was no turning back. The secret of his birth, his heritage, had been hidden from him for far too long. It was time to face whatever truth awaited him.
Jackim glanced one last time at the peaceful village behind him. For all its simplicity and safety, it no longer felt like home. He had outgrown it. He had to go.
Without another word, he turned and walked into the forest, the shadows of the trees swallowing him whole. As he ventured deeper into the wilderness, the weight of the letter burned in his pocket. His heart raced with anticipation, uncertainty, and fear. His destiny had been set into motion, and nothing would be the same again.