Chapter 7: A Prince's Awakening
Raviel's body still hummed with raw power. It wasn't his full strength—far from it—but it was something. A fragment of what had been stripped from him. A taste of what he would take back.
The air around him crackled faintly as the sigil settled into his blood, its presence curling through his veins like a whisper of home. His fingers clenched and unclenched, testing the newfound weight in them. It felt… right.
Horizon, ever casual, leaned against a broken column and watched him with sharp golden eyes. "So, are you gonna explain what that was, or do I just assume you're some secret ancient warlord cursed into a pretty boy's body?"
Raviel shot him a glare. "You talk too much."
Horizon smirked. "And you brood too much. I guess we're even."
Raviel ignored him, his attention shifting back to the ruins. The Forsaken had fled, but they would return. They always did. Creatures like that—mindless, hollowed things—were drawn to power. And now that his own had begun to reawaken, they would come for him in greater numbers.
Fine.
Let them come.
He turned away from the debris and began walking. Horizon fell into step beside him, hands tucked into his coat. "So what's the plan, your highness?"
Raviel's jaw tightened at the title.
Horizon continued as if he hadn't noticed. "Do we camp here? Find more relics? Hunt down whatever's left of your missing magic?"
"None of that," Raviel said smoothly. "We keep moving."
"Where?"
"Forward."
Horizon let out a low chuckle. "Vague. I like it."
They moved through the ruins in silence, the once-grand structures looming like broken giants in the dim light. Cracked stone, shattered archways, carvings of forgotten gods—all remnants of a civilization that had long since been swallowed by the sands of time.
Raviel knew these ruins weren't just random relics of the past.
They were his past.
His father's domain had once stretched beyond the stars, an empire feared and revered. But power breeds envy, and envy breeds treachery.
Betrayal.
Raviel's fingers twitched.
He had been young. Too young to understand the web of conspiracies that had wrapped around him. Too spoiled to see the daggers gleaming beneath the smiles of his so-called allies.
But he understood now.
He had been cast down. Stripped of his divinity. Left to rot in a world that barely remembered his name.
But that would change.
He would make sure of it.
A gust of wind swept through the ruins, stirring the dust.
Raviel felt it before he saw it.
A presence.
Ancient. Powerful.
Watching.
He stopped, eyes narrowing. Horizon did too, his easy-going demeanor vanishing in an instant.
"You feel that?" Horizon muttered.
Raviel didn't answer. He turned his gaze to a nearby archway, half-buried in rubble. The markings along the stone were old, but he recognized the script.
Demonic.
His father's language.
And beneath the faded words, the faintest trace of blood-red light pulsed.
A gate.
Raviel's heart pounded. An active gate.
Not just some broken portal of the past—this was alive.
Waiting.
He stepped toward it, drawn by something deep and instinctual. His blood burned, reacting to the energy curling from the stone.
"This is important."
Horizon's hand shot out, grabbing his arm. "Hold up. I don't like that look in your eyes."
Raviel didn't shake him off. Instead, he turned slowly, voice dangerously calm. "Let go."
Horizon held his gaze. "You sure that's a good idea? It could be a trap."
"Everything is a trap," Raviel said coolly. "If you fear them, you may as well stop breathing."
Horizon exhaled sharply through his nose, but after a moment, he released his grip. "Fine. Your funeral."
Raviel turned back to the gate.
The air around it was thick with old magic, thrumming with a power that felt… familiar.
He reached out, placing a hand on the archway. The stone was warm beneath his fingertips.
Then—
The ruins vanished.
—
A throne room.
Dark. Vast. Lit only by the molten glow of rivers of fire running beneath the obsidian floor.
At the center sat a figure, towering, wreathed in shadows.
Eyes like burning suns turned toward him.
"My son."
A voice like thunder. Like the end of all things.
Raviel's breath hitched.
His father.
Not an illusion. Not a memory.
Real.
Here.
Watching.
Waiting.
—
Raviel staggered back, gasping as the vision shattered. He was in the ruins again, the gate pulsing faintly beneath his hand.
His head was spinning. His chest ached.
That had been real.
A connection. A glimpse beyond the veil.
His father was still alive.
And he had seen him.
Horizon studied him carefully. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
Raviel swallowed, forcing his heartbeat to steady. "Not a ghost."
A shadow of a smirk tugged at Horizon's lips. "Oh? Then what?"
Raviel turned his gaze back to the glowing sigils of the gate.
He didn't answer.
Because he knew what he had seen.
His father was waiting.
And Raviel was going to find him.
No matter what it took.