The forest grew darker as they moved, the trees closing in around them like silent sentinels. Kael followed Lyra and Thorne, his mind still reeling from the battle with the shadowspawn. The shard in his hand pulsed faintly, its light a small comfort in the oppressive gloom. He wanted to ask questions—so many questions—but the grim expressions on his companions' faces kept him silent.
After what felt like hours, they reached a narrow ravine hidden deep within the forest. A small stream trickled through the rocks, its sound a soothing contrast to the tension in the air. Lyra led them to a cluster of boulders and pressed her hand against a seemingly ordinary rock. To Kael's astonishment, the ground beneath them shifted, revealing a hidden staircase leading downward.
"Where are we going?" Kael asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Somewhere safe," Lyra replied, her tone clipped. "Now hurry up. We don't have all night."
The staircase led to a cavern lit by glowing crystals embedded in the walls. The air was cool and damp, and the sound of dripping water echoed in the distance. Kael's eyes widened as he took in the sight. The cavern was filled with strange artifacts—ancient weapons, crumbling scrolls, and odd devices he couldn't begin to understand. In the center of the room stood a large stone table, its surface covered in maps and diagrams.
Thorne walked over to the table and began studying the maps, his brow furrowed in concentration. Lyra turned to Kael, her green eyes piercing. "Sit down," she said, gesturing to a nearby stool. "We need to talk."
Kael obeyed, still clutching the shard. "What's going on? What is this place?"
"This," Lyra said, "is one of the last safe havens for those who still fight against the Shadow King. And you, Kael Draven, have just become a very important part of that fight."
Kael shook his head, his confusion mounting. "I'm just a blacksmith. I don't know anything about fighting shadowspawn or Shadow Kings."
Thorne chuckled, though there was little humor in it. "You're more than just a blacksmith, boy. That shard you're holding? It's one of seven pieces of the Crown of Eternis."
"The Crown of what?" Kael asked, his voice rising.
"The Crown of Eternis," Lyra repeated. "An ancient artifact that once protected the kingdom of Aeloria. It was shattered during the War of Shadows, and its pieces were scattered across the land. The Shadow King has been searching for them, hoping to use their power to plunge the world into darkness."
Kael stared at the shard in his hand, its light flickering like a heartbeat. "And this… this is one of those pieces?"
"Yes," Lyra said. "And the fact that it responded to you means you're connected to it in a way we don't fully understand."
Thorne stepped forward, his expression serious. "There's more, boy. The Crown wasn't just a symbol of power—it was tied to the royal bloodline of Aeloria. Only someone of that bloodline can wield its full power."
Kael's stomach churned as the implications sank in. "You're saying I'm… royalty?"
"We're saying you're the last descendant of the Draven family," Thorne said. "The same family that ruled Aeloria before the Shadow King destroyed them."
Kael shook his head, his mind racing. "No. That's impossible. My parents were farmers. They died when I was a child. They weren't… they couldn't have been…"
Lyra's expression softened, just a little. "Your parents may have hidden their true identities to protect you. But the shard doesn't lie. It chose you, Kael. And that means you have a role to play in all of this, whether you like it or not."
Kael stood abruptly, the stool scraping against the stone floor. "This is insane. I didn't ask for any of this. I just want to go back to my forge, to my life."
"That life is gone," Thorne said bluntly. "The Shadow King knows about you now. His shadowspawn will hunt you until they find you—or until you stop them."
Kael clenched his fists, frustration and fear warring within him. "And how am I supposed to do that? I'm not a warrior. I'm not a king. I'm just… me."
Lyra stepped closer, her voice firm but not unkind. "You're more than you think you are. The shard's power is tied to your bloodline, but it's also tied to your will. You have the potential to wield it, to protect yourself and others. But you'll need training. And you'll need us."
Kael looked between them, his chest tight. "Why should I trust you? I don't even know who you are."
"Fair question," Thorne said, crossing his arms. "Lyra here is a rogue mage, one of the last who still practices the old magic. And I'm a former knight who's been fighting the Shadow King's forces for longer than I care to admit. We've both lost people to this war. And we're not about to let you face it alone."
Kael hesitated, his gaze falling to the shard. Its light seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat, as if it were alive. He thought of the shadowspawn, of the knight who had died in his forge, of the life he had left behind. There was no going back—not now.
"What do I need to do?" he asked finally, his voice steady.
Lyra smiled faintly. "First, you need to learn how to use that shard. Then, we find the others."
"And after that?" Kael asked.
Thorne's expression hardened. "After that, we take the fight to the Shadow King."