The Celestial Chamber–Sun Citadel
Golden light spilled through the towering glass columns of the Sun Citadel, bathing the great Celestial Chamber in eternal glow. The room was vast–vaulted ceilings adorned with murals of flame and conquest, etched in burnished gold and rubies that glittered like embers.
At the center of this chamber stood a long obsidian table, smooth as still water, reflecting the flickering heat of the torches that lined the walls.
Two men sat at opposite ends.
One, dressed in shimmering sun-forged robes, his crown glinting like a solar flare– Grandmaster Solarius, sovereign of the Sun Clan.
The other–robed in deep ocean blue with accents of silver and spirit-white–was Elder Zephyr, leader of the Spirit Clan.
Between them stood history…and tension thick enough to strangle the air.
"Peace suits you less than it once did" Elder Zephyr said softly, lifting the delicate glass of sun-blossom wine to his lips.
"Or is it grief that weighs so heavily on your flame?"
Solarius didn't look at him. His golden–ringed fingers drummed the table once. Twice. A third time. Then silence.
"I do not sip wine while my house rots from within."
Zephyr set down his cup. "Then speak plainly."
Solarius turned his sharp amber gaze toward him–eyes like a star nearing detonation.
"You speak of prophecy as if it is a game of riddles. Yet the Child of Balance is missing. My son, the Heir of Flame, has vanished. And your daughter–your daughter, was the last to be seen with him"
Zephyr's eyes flickered, but his voice remained calm.
"Kael made his choice. You speak of vanishings, but sometimes, a man walks away from a path he never believed in."
Solarius stood, his golden cloak billowing behind him like wildfire.
"You dare defend this betrayal?"
Zephyr looked at him steadily. "Do not mistake freedom for betrayal, old friend."
The glass shattered in Solarius' hand. The wine splashed like blood across the table as he slammed his fists down, the obsidian surface cracking beneath the weight of his fury.
"He was destined to rule! The fire in his blood could have scorched kingdoms into submission! He had the gift of suns–and he threw it away for love! For your cursed daughter!"
Zephyr did not move. His silence was sharper than blade.
"Speak," Solarius roared.
"Speak before I turn this entire hall to ash!"
At last, Zephyr rose– slowly. Not in fear, but with the grace of rising wind.
"You speak of destiny…but perhaps it is not the throne that was denied, but the throne that was never meant."
"You're testing me," Solarius growled, eyes ablaze.
"No," Zephyr said softly.
"I'm reminding you–not all who burn are chosen. And not all who are chosen burn."
Solarius turned away, pacing, his fury like an inferno with nowhere to go. His voice came low, barely audible, but it crackled with pain.
"....he was my son."
Zephyr's eyes softened.
"And still is."
Solarius whipped around, grief laced in rage.
"Then why did he leave me?! Why did he run to her?!"
Zephyr stepped forward, calm and unshaken.
"Because he saw something you refuse to see. That the sun does not warm all things. Some destinies grow best in shadow"
Solarius' mouth trembled–not with weakness, but restraint. He clenched his fists.
And then...silence.
He turned, sweeping his cloak around him.
"If the child is found…if Kael returns…"
Zephyr's voice interrupted, smooth and steady:
"You would do what, Solarius? Welcome them home…or burn the world they built?"
Solarius paused at the edge of the chamber, his shadow stretched long by golden light.
Then, without turning back, he spoke:
"If Kael still lives…he must answer for his betrayal. And if the child bears your daughter's blood…then this prophecy will bleed before it shines."
He left the chamber, flames flickering his wake.
Zephyr remained behind. He looked toward the broken glass, the spilled wine, the fractured stone–then slowly, he whispered into the silence:
"You fear what you do not understand…and soon, Solarius…you will fear your own blood."
The cold air of the northern plains stung beneath Rhys' golden armor as his steed tore through the misty morning. Behind him, a small legion of the Sun Guard rode in disciplined silence, each one wrapped in dark crimson cloaks trimmed with gold. Their presence cut through the earth like a blade, a sun-born fury hidden beneath steel and duty.
Rhys' eyes were set ahead, unwavering.
Weeks had passed since he departed the palace under his father's command. The words still rang in his head.
"Bring me Kael and the boy–alive"
And yet…each mile forward twisted that command deeper in his chest.
Alive?
Kael. His younger brother, always the light in their father's eyes. Even in disappearance, even in prophecy. Solarius still dared to speak Kael's name like he was hope itself.
Rhys gritted his teeth.
"Even now…you choose him," he had whispered once beneath his breath.
"Even in betrayal…he's still the light you see."
He turned slightly, gazing up at the pale blue sky, and then down at the map held by his second-in-command.
"We're close," Ravik said.
"The scouts tracked a pulse of aura–sun born and spirit-mixed. It's faint. Faint…but real."
Rhys narrowed his eyes. "They're here…"
He paused, pulling at the reins, forcing the convoy to a halt atop a rocky rise. Beneath them stretched a valley, peaceful and blooming with wildflowers–a scene too quiet for what it held.
"He built a life," Rhys muttered.
There was no fortress. No guards. Just a cottage nestled between trees, smoke curling from the chimney, the sounds of laughter echoing faintly from below.
And then he saw him.
Kael stood in the open field, shirt undone, holding an axe as he chopped wood, golden skin glinting in the sun. His hair was a mess of black curls, longer than before. His movements were calm. Unbothered. Alive.
Rhys jaw clenched.
He turned to his men.
"We don't strike. Not yet."
"My Lord"
"Stand down. I go alone."
"But–"
"Would you question your Prince?"
The guards quickly fell silent.
"Watch closely, I'll give a sign…then attack" he said firmly.
Rhys descended alone. His armor glinting with each step. Every footfall was a drumbeat of fate approaching the past.
Inside the cottage, Liora stirred a wooden spoon through a boiling pot. The scent of herbs filled the air, and the walls echoed with gentle warmth.
The knock came like a slow drumbeat–three firm strikes against the old wooden door.
Kael paused, knife halfway through carving the final curve on Leon's toy. A strange chill ran through him, quiet and immediate, like the hush before a coming storm. He stood slowly, instincts awakening in his bones.
He opened the door—
….Rhys? Kael whispered, voice choked.
Rhys gave a small smile.
"You look awful, little brother".
And suddenly, they embraced–the strength of warriors, the sorrow of distance, the lie of reunion. Behind Kael, Liora stood still, her eyes narrowing. She didn't smile.
Leon peeked past his mother's robes, curious.
And then his eyes met Rhys'
His breath caught.
The man from my dream.
A silent whisper echoed in Leon's mind–the one he tried to tell them about, but couldn't. The one they dismissed in laughter and stories. That face. That jet black hair. That sharp distant gaze. It was him.
He didn't speak. He only watched.
Kael led him to a quiet room off the hall, poured wine as the brothers sat before the fire. Rhys took the cup, sipped, and let silence hang heavy between them.
"Seven years," Kael finally said.
"And still you find me, I never thought I'd see you again"
Rhys smiled faintly.
"The world isn't as wide as you think."
"I waited for you, Rhys" Kael said softly
"Even as a boy, when you trained with Dad for days and never looked back. I still waited. Every festival, every name day. You were always beyond reach. I'm really happy you found me Rhys.."
"I'm happy I found you too" Rhys said with a faint smile
"Rhys I want you to know something important, I trust you and I love you" Kael said
"You can trust me brother"
"The boy you saw with Liora, he's my son. And…he's the child of prophecy. When he was born, the sacred mark appeared behind his neck"
The air broke. His heart was bitter but his words were different.
"I am honored...truly I am. Thank you for sharing his with me brother"
Rhys stands, his expression unreadable. He walks slowly to the window, watching the valley–peaceful, glowing with the sun's glowing descent.
He raises one hand.
Outside, from the far ridge, a bright flare shoots into the sky–a burning phoenix, conjured by the Sun Clan mages. It bursts in gold and crimson.
Meanwhile, in the main room, Liora crouched beside Leon. Her voice low, eyes wide.
"Mama" he whispered
"That man…I saw him. In my dream. The moon was full. And he was there...standing on fire."
Liora's heart froze. Before she could rise–screams.
The distant clang of steel. The roar of fire. The guttural war-cries of men tearing through peace like knives through silk.
The screams echoed. Smoke curried. Kael's heart sank.
He stood, eyes flickering to the flames outside–his village, his peace burning.
Slowly, he turned to Rhys.
"Rhys…what have you done?"
Rhys didn't flinch. His golden eyes were cold, his tone smooth.
"What I was always meant to do"
Kael's voice trembled.
"You drank wine with me. Looked into the eyes of my son…"
"You betrayed me," Kael whispered.
"I waited my whole life for you. All I wanted was my brother back"
Rhys stepped into the light, eyes cold like steel.
"And I waited my whole life for you to stop being in my way"
Kael fists clenched.
"You burned my home…for what?"
Rhys' words dropped like iron
"To remind the world that fire doesn't ask for permission"
Kael's voice was no longer trembling.
It was thunder.
"Then I'll burn you to the ground."