Darkness.
Endless, suffocating, absolute.
Ansel stood alone in a place that did not breathe. A void with no stars, no walls—only black. In front of him loomed a massive throne, twisted and ancient, carved from obsidian and shadow. It sat in stillness, as though waiting.
He tried to move, but the space around him swallowed sound and motion. His small frame trembled.
Then—
A whisper.
A name.
"Ansel… Ansel… Ansel…"
It echoed like wind through hollow stone.
"Ansel!"
He gasped.
His eyes snapped open, heart racing, breath shallow. Cold sweat clung to his skin.
His mother's gentle face hovered above him, her hand on his forehead.
"You had a bad dream," Alena said softly, brushing his damp hair back. "It's alright now. You're safe."
Ansel blinked away the remnants of the vision and gave a small nod. But the darkness still clung to his mind—too vivid to be just a dream.
---
Far beyond the quiet manor of Greenal, the world stretched wide and ancient.
Celestria was only one of four continents on the known map of the world, but it pulsed with power and history.
To the north stood Valoria, an empire forged in conquest, where politics and bloodlines ruled above all.
Celestria, more fragmented, was divided into three kingdoms—Eldoria, the land of nobility and tradition; Rafelia, home to the legendary magic academy Valeon; and Sonaria, a kingdom of forests and forgotten spirits.
Valeon Academy was a place of legend—built by the great mage and swordsman Rafel Valeon, a figure so powerful that his name alone stirred awe. Mages, swordbearers, scholars, and warriors from across the continent dreamed of setting foot on its sacred grounds.
Further across the ocean lay the shrouded lands of Shadowfen—a continent that severed ties with the rest of the world a thousand years ago. No ships sailed from its shores, and no letters crossed its borders. It remained a mystery, veiled in silence.
And lastly, to the east, Ironsphire—a harsh land of fire-forged steel, known for crafting weapons imbued with ancient iron and forgotten runes. Their blacksmiths were revered, their soldiers feared.
Each continent held secrets. Each bore history soaked in blood and power.
And in one quiet corner of Eldoria, a child with no magic, haunted by dreams of thrones in the dark, unknowingly stood at the center of something that would shake them all.