The road stretched wide as the forest gave way to stone bridges and sprawling plains. For days they marched, passing burned villages and frightened refugees, each one a grim reminder of Draemir's spreading shadow.
At last, the walls of Valdoria Capital rose before them — massive towers of white stone etched with golden runes, banners fluttering proudly in the wind. The gates were lined with guards in polished armor, their pikes glinting like sunlight.
Rihan stopped, taking it in. "This place looks… unreal," he muttered. Compared to the ruins and forests he had known since waking in this world, the capital felt alive — bustling streets, markets spilling with voices, horses trotting along cobblestones.
Elira smiled faintly. "Welcome to Valdoria, Rihan. The heart of the human kingdoms."
But Lyra's expression remained wary. "Don't be fooled. Behind beauty lies chains. The court will not welcome him easily."
As they approached, the guards stiffened. One man, clearly the captain, stepped forward. His eyes scanned Rihan suspiciously before turning to Elira.
"Lady Elira of House Seraphine. We were not told of your return."
"I return at the King's bidding," she replied firmly, producing a sealed crest from her cloak. The guard inspected it, then nodded sharply.
His gaze slid to Rihan. "And this… stranger?"
Elira's voice hardened. "He is under my protection. Stand aside."
The guard's jaw tightened, but he stepped back, motioning for the gates to open. With a groan of stone and iron, the capital welcomed them inside.
---
🌇 Inside the Capital
Rihan's eyes widened as they entered. Towering spires touched the clouds, while markets bustled with life — hawkers shouting, children laughing, knights patrolling in gleaming armor. But despite the vibrancy, a tension hung in the air. Soldiers marched in greater numbers than usual. Whispers of "Draemir" echoed in alleys.
"Everyone knows war is coming," Lyra whispered, her gaze scanning the uneasy faces.
They wound their way through the city streets until finally reaching the Ivory Palace, a castle carved from pale stone that shimmered faintly under the sun. Golden banners of Valdoria's crest — a roaring lion — draped across its towers.
As they entered the throne hall, silence fell. Nobles and generals lined the chamber, their jeweled robes and polished armor gleaming. At the far end sat King Aldros Valdoria, a stern man in his fifties, crowned with silver and steel, his eyes sharp as blades.
Elira bowed low. "Your Majesty. I have returned from the Trial of Purity."
The king leaned forward slightly. "And what of the chosen one?"
Elira glanced at Rihan. The hall followed her gaze, dozens of noble eyes turning toward him, judging, weighing. Rihan felt exposed, like prey surrounded by wolves.
"This is him," Elira declared. "Rihan… the one who survived."
Gasps rippled through the chamber. Murmurs rose instantly.
"That boy?"
"He doesn't even wear proper armor."
"A foreigner, by his looks."
"How can he be the Trial's survivor?"
Rihan's fists tightened at his sides. He hated the way they looked at him — like he was some animal dragged in from the wild.
King Aldros raised a hand, silencing the chamber. His gaze fixed on Rihan. "Step forward."
Rihan swallowed, but obeyed. The king studied him, eyes narrowing as if searching for something beyond flesh.
"You carry power within you," Aldros said slowly. "But power alone does not make a savior. Tell me… why should Valdoria trust you?"
Rihan froze. Dozens of noble eyes bore into him, waiting for him to stumble. He wanted to say I didn't choose this, I just want to go home. But when he remembered the burning villages, the crying children, and the hope in the villagers' eyes when he saved them — something in him shifted.
"…Because I've seen what Draemir does," Rihan said finally, his voice steady. "And I won't stand by while people suffer. I don't care if I don't belong here. If I have the power to fight, then I'll use it. Whether you trust me or not."
The hall erupted in whispers. Some sneered, others looked surprised.
The king's eyes glimmered with interest. "Bold words… for a stranger."
Before he could speak further, the throne room doors slammed open. A messenger stumbled in, breathless, armor dented.
"Your Majesty! Draemir forces have crossed the eastern river! Villages are already falling!"
Shock rippled through the court. Generals rose to their feet, voices clashing.
"They move faster than we expected—!"
"We must mobilize at once!"
"Send the Royal Guard!"
The king stood, his voice booming above the chaos. "Silence!"
The hall froze. His gaze returned to Rihan. "Then fate has delivered us our answer sooner than expected. Stranger or not, we will see the measure of your power."
He pointed to Rihan, his voice cold and commanding. "You will ride with my army at dawn. Prove yourself against Draemir's advance — or fall with the rest."
Rihan stiffened, his heart pounding. This was no trial in a ruined temple anymore. This was war.
Elira and Lyra exchanged uneasy glances, but neither spoke.
The king's words rang like iron chains in the air:
"Your destiny begins at dawn."