The kingdom of Kyydos was silent.
Once, its streets had been filled with laughter, its towers gleaming under the sun. Now, the castle lay in ruins, its spires broken, its walls blackened by fire. The air reeked of smoke and blood.
Prince Kiran staggered through the courtyard, his boots crunching over shattered stone and ash. His eyes burned, not from the smoke, but from the sight before him—his people, his soldiers, his friends, all lying lifeless.
The Great War had ended, but not in victory. It had ended in silence.
At the gates, he found the Captain of the Royal Guard—his mentor, the man who had taught him swordsmanship and magic. The old warrior's chest rose weakly, his armor soaked in blood.
"Run away… be safe, my dear prince," the captain whispered, his voice trembling.
Kiran grasped his hand, tears streaming down his face. "No. I won't leave you. I won't leave anyone."
But the captain's hand slipped from his grasp, and his eyes closed forever.
Kiran's scream echoed through the ruins, a sound of grief so raw it shook the air. Something inside him shattered.