Chapter Three: Sacrifice and Vengeance
Rain poured relentlessly over the darkened forests beyond Eldaria, the storm a perfect mirror of Kaelan's turmoil. The cold wind bit into his skin as he trudged through the muddy paths, his body aching from the wounds of betrayal. The name Draconis, once a symbol of family, now felt like a curse. He had been cast aside like a worthless pawn, abandoned by the only home he had ever known.
Yet, the fire inside him refused to die. He would return. Not as the weak orphan they discarded, but as something far greater.
For weeks, he wandered, guided only by whispers of ancient magic. The world beyond Eldaria was cruel, ruled by warlords, sorcerers, and creatures that thrived in the shadows. If he was to survive, he needed power. Power that did not come from noble bloodlines, but from something far older, far darker.
That was when he found the cave.
Nestled within the jagged cliffs of the Obsidian Wastes, it pulsed with an eerie glow, as if the earth itself was breathing. The villagers spoke of it in hushed voices—a cursed place, a tomb of forgotten gods. But Kaelan was not afraid. If this cave held the strength he sought, then he would claim it, no matter the cost.
With cautious steps, he entered the darkness, the scent of damp stone and old magic filling his lungs. Strange symbols glowed along the walls, shifting and pulsing as if responding to his presence. At the heart of the cavern lay an ancient book, its cover bound in blackened leather, marked with sigils that pulsed like a heartbeat.
"A power beyond kings," the words etched onto its surface whispered to him. "But all power demands sacrifice."
Kaelan hesitated. Sacrifice. He had already lost everything—his home, his honor, his place beside Irina. What more could this magic take from him?
Then, as if answering his unspoken question, the book revealed its price. A memory.
To wield this power, he had to give up something precious—his most cherished memory.
His fingers trembled as he reached for the book. Images of Irina flooded his mind—the way she laughed in the moonlit gardens, the way her hand felt when it touched his. If he took this power, he would forget her. Forget the only person who had ever truly seen him.
But he had made his choice the moment they cast him aside.
As his hand closed around the book, a searing pain shot through his body. A blinding light erupted around him, and his vision blurred. He clutched his head as fragments of memories unraveled—her voice, her touch, her face... fading into nothing.
When the light faded, Kaelan stood in silence. His heart was steady. His mind was clear.
He had no memory of why he felt hollow inside.
But the power... the power surged through his veins like wildfire. The weak boy they had thrown away no longer existed.
Now, Kaelan was reborn.
And he would make them all pay.
Would you like me to continue or make any adjustments?