The palace of Ashveil stood like a jewel beneath the sun — white stone towers kissed by golden light, banners dancing in the breeze, and the sound of laughter echoing through marble halls.
Prince Kael had never liked the throne room.
Not because he feared it, but because it felt too heavy — too serious for a boy who preferred running barefoot through the gardens, sneaking into the kitchens for honey bread, and playing music beneath the old oak tree in the eastern courtyard.
At sixteen, Kael was tall for his age, with midnight-black hair that refused to stay neatly combed and eyes the deep blue of storm clouds just before rain. He carried himself with the awkward grace of someone caught between boyhood and manhood — strong but unsure, brave but still learning.
And he was very late.
"Kael!"
His mother's voice echoed across the courtyard as he leapt over a low stone wall, barely missing a rose bush. He turned just in time to see Queen Elenara standing with her hands on her hips, royal robes flowing in the morning wind, eyes filled not with anger but with weary affection.
"You were supposed to be in the council chamber ten minutes ago," she said. "Do you know how difficult it is to convince the ministers that their prince will not grow into a reckless disaster?"
Kael grinned sheepishly. "I was conducting royal business."
She raised an eyebrow. "Royal business involving climbing trees and stealing pastries?"
"Strategic morale boosting," he replied. "The kitchen staff are much happier now."
Despite herself, Elenara smiled — then sighed. "Come. Your father is already in session. And for once, I would like the council to see you acting like a future king instead of a future bard."
Kael's smile softened.
"I could be both," he said gently.
She paused, looking at him — really looking — and her smile faded into something more complicated. "You already are," she said. "That's what worries them."
The Weight of the Crown
The council chamber was vast, circular, and carved from ancient white stone. Sunlight poured through tall stained-glass windows, painting the floor in shades of gold and sapphire.
At the center stood King Ardyn — tall, broad-shouldered, silver hair tied neatly at the back, eyes sharp but kind. He was speaking with the ministers when Kael entered.
"Apologies," Kael said, bowing slightly. "I was delayed."
One of the ministers scoffed. "By what, Your Highness? Another stroll through the gardens while the kingdom faces real threats?"
Kael straightened, his expression calm. "I walk the gardens because they belong to the people. I speak with farmers, guards, servants, and children — and I listen. That is not wasted time."
The room fell silent.
King Ardyn turned, surprise flickering across his face — followed by quiet pride.
"Well said," the king said. "Perhaps the council could learn from that."
The minister frowned but said nothing.
Kael took his place beside his father. "What threats?" he asked.
Ardyn's expression darkened. "The Holy Alliance has sent another envoy."
Kael felt a chill crawl up his spine.
The Holy Alliance — a powerful religious coalition formed across the western kingdoms — claimed to protect the world from corruption, darkness, and forbidden magic. Over the years, their influence had grown — along with their fear of anyone born with arcane power.
And Kael… was born with magic.
"They want access to our archives," Ardyn continued. "Specifically, the ancient scrolls on bloodline magic."
Kael's jaw tightened. "That's a dangerous request."
"Yes," Elenara said quietly. "And not a coincidence."
Kael met his father's eyes. "They're looking for me."
No one denied it.
A Secret in the Blood
Kael's magic was not common. From the moment he was born, strange things had happened — lights flickering when he cried, wind stirring when he laughed, shadows bending strangely around him.
At first, the palace mages thought it was coincidence.
Then it became undeniable.
By the age of six, Kael could feel the world — not just see it, but sense it — the pulse of the earth, the breath of the sky, the quiet hum of energy flowing through everything.
By ten, he could move objects without touching them.
By thirteen, he could hear whispers in the dark — not voices, exactly, but… presences.
And by sixteen, he had learned to hide it.
Only his parents knew the full truth.
Only they stood between him and the Holy Alliance.
The Warning
Later that evening, Kael stood on the palace balcony, watching the sun dip behind the distant mountains. The sky was a wash of red and gold — beautiful… and strangely ominous.
Footsteps approached.
"You feel it too," King Ardyn said, joining him.
Kael nodded. "Something is coming."
"Fear?" Ardyn asked.
"No," Kael replied. "Change."
Ardyn studied his son. "You have always been different. Not in a way that frightens me — but in a way that frightens others."
Kael looked at his hands. "I don't want to be feared."
"I know," Ardyn said. "And that is exactly why you must be careful. The world does not forgive what it does not understand."
Kael clenched his fists. "Then maybe the world should learn."
Ardyn's gaze hardened. "The world prefers fire to education."
Silence stretched between them.
"Father," Kael said quietly, "if something happens to you… or Mother… what would you want me to do?"
Ardyn turned to him sharply. "Why would you ask that?"
Kael hesitated. "Because… I don't think the future is as safe as it used to be."
Ardyn placed a hand on Kael's shoulder. "Listen to me. No matter what happens — do not lose yourself. Power is not what makes a king. Compassion is."
Kael nodded.
But the wind carried a chill that night — and the stars seemed distant.
The First Sign
That night, Kael dreamed.
He stood in a forest he had never seen — ancient trees twisted into unnatural shapes, their branches clawing at a blood-red sky. The air was thick, heavy, and alive.
Then a voice spoke.
"Child of light and shadow."
Kael turned.
A massive figure stood among the trees — not solid, not entirely shadow — with eyes like burning embers.
"You are not meant for crowns of gold," the voice said. "You are meant for crowns of ash."
Kael felt fear — real fear — for the first time in years. "Who are you?"
"I am what remains of what your world tried to erase," the figure replied. "And soon… I will be what saves you."
Kael took a step back. "I don't need saving."
The shadow laughed — deep, ancient, and knowing.
"You will."
Kael woke with a sharp gasp, sweat cold on his skin, heart racing.
The moon was full.
And far to the west, unseen by him, black banners were already being raised.