Prologue – "The Fall of Light, The Rise of Hope"
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Once, there was a land unlike any other renowned for its beauty, harmony, and prosperity—Askyeruz, a great land spun from the breath of the Divine, ruled in harmony by twelve blessed kingdoms, each governed under the light of the Great El. His presence stirred the wind and warmed the earth. His spirit flowed through the waters, glowed within the fires, and danced in every living thing. For centuries, the people of Askyeruz lived by His Word and prospered under His care.
The meadows glistened like sea-foam under the rising sun, and the forests whispered secrets of joy and peace. The fields were a marvel to behold, especially in the dawn of spring when beds of vibrant flowers adorned the vast plains.
The farmers rejoiced in the abundant harvests, and the sailors celebrated the richness of the sea. The waters knew no pollution, the winds carried no malice, and even the beasts of the field walked with the people.
Birds filled the skies with harmonious melodies, and fish swam through endless currents and territories. Life was full and flourishing. Children played and learned joyfully, and the people thrived in health and prosperity.
Music echoed from village to valley as children chased the breezes, and elders told stories of wisdom handed down from the days of First Light. The twelve kingdoms of Askyeruz flourished under the sacred covenant with the Divine Deity, El—protector, creator, and light.
At the heart of this unity stood the Royals: sovereigns chosen not by birthright alone, but by the alignment of spirit with the Fruits of El. Each Royal ruled with humility and reverence, guarded by their faithful Royal Knights—noble warriors gifted with elemental magic and bonded to enchanted Familiars, beasts shaped and tamed by the will of El. These Knights wore the sacred Armor of El, forged from divine light, crafted not for conquest, but for protection, truth, and peace.
No blade was drawn in pride. No spell cast in envy. No crown tarnished by deceit.
Peace prevailed under the watchful care of the great Deity, who governed all the land touched by sunlight. Harmony reigned as the people faithfully upheld the laws of their homeland. Life was so idyllic that no one imagined such bliss could ever end.
But peace, however radiant, does not last forever when hearts begin to turn away from the source of light.
And one fateful day changed the history of Askyeruz forever.
On that fateful night, as all souls rested in their homes beneath a moon that glowed too pale, an ancient phantom emerged from the shadowed borderlands beyond the eastern wilds. He called himself Thanthorus.
By morning, the stranger - Thanthorus - draped in ashen robes stood before the people and spoke of a foreboding future. Many believed him for he spoke with a voice both melodic and venomous, weaving prophecies of doom and tales of ominous days to come that chilled even the bravest soul. Their hearts were burdened by his grim prophecies, though some resisted, attempting to send him away.
He whispered of storms to come, of sickness hiding in the air, and of war waiting behind every veil of peace. He warned that El had forgotten them, that the Divine no longer listened, no longer cared. Some called him a liar. Others—a prophet.
He promised safety. He promised power. But more than anything, he promised knowledge, and that... was the seed.
With every word, doubt burrowed deeper. Faith faltered. The Royals, desperate to protect their people, listened. Not all, but many. The Royal Knights, too, began to question. Not all, but enough.
The seeds of doubt and fear he sowed grew into confusion and discord. The people sought his counsel.
Then came the visions—mirages conjured by Thanthorus of treasures buried beneath the lands, of sacred relics and magic untouched by El, of an armor more powerful than what the Divine had granted. It was all a lie, of course, but it was dressed in just enough truth to be believed.
Enticed by these promises, they ventured far and wide in search of wealth and power, believing these would protect them from the darkness foretold. Even the kings and queens summoned the stranger, some skeptical of his claims.
One king, furious at the stranger's deceptions, dismissed him as a liar. Yet that same day, a dark cloud rose in the east—an event the stranger had predicted. The cloud brought illness and death, forcing the people to heed the stranger's instructions, even performing strange rituals.
As calamities mounted, the stranger urged them again to search for the treasures and magic to save themselves
In time, one child and his father, driven by hope and fear, unearthed a golden suit of armor beneath a luminous tree in the far East. It shimmered like glory, but it did not radiate with the warmth of El. It was cold—beautiful, but hollow. Corrupted.
The moment that armor surfaced, all restraint was lost. The stranger proclaimed the armor's immense power, and chaos erupted as people fought over it. Kingdoms clashed, and men turned on one another. Some longed to return to the great Deity they had forsaken, but many pursued the treasures, magic, and armor, believing only these could save them.
Kingdoms turned on one another. The Royals descended into chaos. The Royal Knights fell into division. What once protected now pierced. What once united now destroyed.
Then came the historic war.
The skies darkened for forty days. Rain fell blood-red across the lands. Familiars turned feral. Elemental magics surged uncontrollably. Crops failed. Storms broke coastlines. The hearts of the people, once tethered to El, now trembled in confusion. Soon, the people, weary of their suffering, dethroned their rulers. In desperation, the broken people crowned Thanthorus as their savior- the new King of all.
It was then that he revealed his true form—not man, but shadow. Not prophet, but predator.
With wings of dust and eyes like coals, Thanthorus unleashed his dominion over the fractured kingdoms. He twisted the sacred tree into a throne of thorns, raised beasts of nightmare from forgotten chasms, and hunted the Royals and Knights to the edge of extinction. The Armor of El was lost, shattered, and scattered across cursed lands. The Divine's voice grew silent.
Askyeruz descended into chaos, teetering on the brink of destruction. Yet, in the depths of despair, a faint glimmer of hope remained—a chance for a brighter future, though none could foresee how it might come to pass.
Yes, hope dimmed.
And yet, hope is never truly extinguished—only hidden, waiting, flickering behind the veil of sorrow.
A voice carried through the generations. A whisper to dreamers and children. A story told in the flickering firelight.
"This is the tale of a great land, once known for peace and harmony, and its tragic fall to the deceptions of a stranger. This tale narrates a land that fell not by force, but by forgetting," an old woman said to her grandchildren, her voice aged but steady as they sat by the fireplace.
Her voice filled the room as she rocked in her chair.
Her grandchildren leaned in, faces glowing with wonder and fear.
"But why didn't El save them, Grandma?" one child asked. "Why didn't He stop Thanthorus? And why does this story not end happily like the others?"
The old woman's eyes gleamed like embers.
She smiled and beckoned the child to her lap. "Oh, my dear, not all stories end happily. And because, my love, sometimes the Divine gives us the power to choose, and we choose wrongly. But in His mercy, He plants seeds even in ruin. Life is like that too— its end depends on the choices you make. Be wise, my grandchildren, and guard yourselves against things that bring calamity, conflict, and chaos."
"So, is that really the end?"
She shook her head and smiled. "Oh no. This story is not done. The land still waits for its healing. The Armor of El can still be restored. The Royals and Knights… may yet rise again."
These words stayed with a young boy who later gazed at his grandmother's picture with sorrow in his heart.
His mother embraced him as tears welled in his eyes.
"I wanted to hear more of that story from Grandma," he said. "She told me it would continue, but she's been asleep for so long now and hasn't woken up. I'll never know what happened to Askyeruz."
His mother held him tightly and whispered words of comfort. "Hush now, my darling. It's okay. Just remember the lesson your grandma taught you. As long as you hold it in your heart, the story will find its happy ending within you."
Elsewhere—far from the echoing ash-covered hills and shattered temples of Askyeruz in the story, in another place on Earth, in the small, quiet town of Saxordis—those seeds stirred.
A young lady with curious eyes and an unshakable heart tossed beneath her blankets. Her name was Alleia Lystaria Zoaria Morafel. In the world of men, she was a tenth grader—late for class, lost in daydreams, and drawn to stories that seemed to whisper truths no one else could hear.
But in the realm beyond dreams, she was more.
In her sleep, a voice called to her. Not loud, but clear.
"Alleia, you are a Royal Knight. You must rise. Askyeruz awaits."
She stirred. She did not yet understand.
The world she knew was about to unravel. A doorway cloaked in roses would appear. A familiar she did not yet know would nearly drown. A flaming sword would threaten her. And a talking pup would call her "Master."
In the days to come, Alleia Morafel would walk lands that once knew peace and now knew only pain. She would uncover the truths hidden beneath centuries of silence. She would find others—eight kindred souls scattered across Earth, each bearing the blood of the Royal Knights, each called by their own Fruit of the Spirit.
She would laugh. She would grieve. She would fight demons—within and without. She would falter. She would rise.
And with her, so would the story.
The tale of Askyeruz is not one of defeat.
It is the tale of how, in the darkest of times, the light rekindles.
And it begins with a single girl who answered a call in her dreams.
This is her journey.
This is the beginning.
This is the Askyeruz Adventure and the Royal Knights.
And so the tale begins again—not as it once was, but as it must be.
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⚔️ AerixielDaiminse ⚔️