The sky was ablaze with fire, and the heavens trembled. A great rock, burning with the fury of stars, descended from the void, tearing the fabric of the skies as it fell. It struck the barren earth with a deafening roar, a sound so immense that mountains quaked, rivers shifted their paths, and the land itself split open. The impact sent waves of energy rippling across the desolate plains, leaving a crater so vast it swallowed the horizon.
For seven days, the rock lay silent at the heart of the ruined land. Its surface, blackened and rough, radiated an unnatural heat, while fissures snaked across its surface, glowing faintly with an otherworldly orange light. Around it, the land became a wasteland of ash and smoke, the air thick with the acrid scent of scorched earth. Birds circled in the sky but dared not land, as if sensing the power that slumbered within.
On the dawn of the seventh day, the rock began to stir. The faint hum it emitted grew louder, a low vibration that resonated through the ground. Animals fled, the wind fell still, and even the sky seemed to dim. Then, with a shattering crack, the rock split into three jagged fragments, each piece glowing brighter than the sun itself. From within the molten core, life emerged.
The first figure rose slowly, his movements deliberate and precise, as though he had already grasped the weight of his existence. His silver-white hair gleamed in the soft light of the cracked rock, falling in sharp strands around his face. His eyes, a pale gray that mirrored the sky before a storm, scanned the barren land with a calculating gaze. He was striking and commanding, his very presence exuding an aura of confidence. He was Kaelus, the firstborn of the rock, whose tongue would shape nations and whose words would lead them to ruin.
Kaelus stretched his arms, marveling at his form, and a faint smirk curled his lips. "This land is ours to conquer," he said, his voice smooth and unshaken, as if he had always known the purpose of his birth.
The second figure emerged with a forceful burst, his movements swift and powerful. He was taller and broader than Kaelus, his dark brown hair hanging in damp strands as if freshly forged from the heat of the rock. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths as he gazed at the world with wide, searching eyes, filled with a mix of wonder and confusion. His hands, large and calloused, ran over the cracked earth as though trying to feel the heartbeat of the land. He was Orus, the secondborn, a man of strength and faith, destined to see the world through a lens clouded by trust.
"The earth speaks to us," Orus murmured, his voice rich and deep, filled with reverence. "We are born of it. We must honor it, understand it, and let it guide us."
The third figure rose last, slower than the others but no less formidable. He stepped forward, his dark eyes sharp and unyielding, his expression grim. His black hair fell over his face, partially obscuring the cold determination that burned within his gaze. He said nothing as he emerged, his movements precise and deliberate, each step filled with purpose. He bent down and picked up a shard of the broken rock, its edges jagged and sharp, and held it tightly in his hand. He was Dagon, the lastborn, a silent harbinger of strength whose resolve would crush all in his path.
Dagon drove the shard into the ground, the force of the impact sending small tremors through the earth. He looked at his brothers, his silence heavier than words, his actions declaring what he would not say: the land was theirs to take, and no force would stop them.
The three men stood together at the edge of their new world, the vast emptiness stretching before them like a blank canvas waiting to be painted. The sun, weak and pale, cast their elongated shadows over the barren land, while the glowing fragments of the rock behind them pulsed faintly, as if breathing.
Kaelus turned to his brothers, his expression unreadable. "The land is empty," he said, his voice carrying a weight that matched the desolation around them. "It's ours to shape, to mold as we see fit. But it will not bend willingly."
Orus rose to his full height, his gaze steady. "We were not born to conquer, Kaelus. We were born to create, to bring life to this world." He gestured to the barren plains. "We must listen to the earth and let it guide us."
Kaelus chuckled, his smirk deepening. "Faith alone will not build a kingdom, brother. Words—carefully chosen words—will bend the will of men."
Dagon remained silent, his dark gaze fixed on the horizon. He gripped the shard of the rock tightly, his knuckles white, as though already preparing for a battle yet unseen.
The wind began to stir, carrying with it the faint scent of growth—a promise of what could be. But as it passed over the three brothers, it whispered a warning: "From stone we rise, to ash we fall,
The seeds of ruin within us all."
Unaware of the shadow they would one day cast over the world, the three men turned their backs to the broken rock and stepped into the unknown. Their journey had begun. The land, empty and unyielding, awaited its kings.