—The Boy Who Was Never Born—
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There was a rule in the Kingdom of Elwischa:
No one stares too long at the prince.
Not because he was dangerous.
Not because he was powerful.
But because he was empty.
Too still.
Too quiet.
Too perfect.
Like he was painted into the world, not born into it.
---
Atop the ivory spires of the kingdom, far from the laughter of markets and the stink of real blood, Kael stood at the edge of a polished marble balcony, unmoving. Below him, the royal gardens swayed under moonlight—tamed trees, obedient flowers, a forest pruned into submission.
Just like him.
He wasn't dressed like a prince. Not tonight.
No flowing cape. No crown.
Just a simple white shirt, sleeves stained with ink, collar loose. His feet bare on the cold stone floor. Because what good were shoes in a cage?
Sixteen years ago, the stars died the moment he was born.
So said the Queen, right before she swallowed poison in the bath.
They never told him what she looked like.
But the maids whispered when they thought he slept:
"She had eyes like his."
---
"Kael."
A voice. Soft. Nervous.
The boy turned slowly. Deliberate. Trained.
His tutor, Master Ilvren, stood at the doorway, clutching a scroll against his chest like a shield.
"Your Majesty... the Council requests your presence. They say it's urgent."
Kael didn't answer. Didn't blink.
He only tilted his head—like a bird, or a question mark.
Ilvren flinched. Good.
"They're... deciding your future," the man added, voice cracking like old glass.
Kael's lips twitched—almost a smile. Almost.
Then he looked past Ilvren. Past the velvet halls.
Beyond the stained-glass windows and into the distance.
Toward the Great Border.
That wide, shimmering wall of light on the horizon.
A place no Elwischan dared go.
A place no memory returned from.
And Kael?
Kael dreamed of it. Every. Single. Night.
---
There's a woman in his dreams. She stands in the marsh, barefoot, clutching feathers to her chest.
She sings to him—not with voice, but with silence.
She calls him by a name he does not know.
"You're not their prince."
"You're mine."
---
Kael blinked. The dream dissolved like morning frost.
He turned back to Ilvren and spoke, voice quiet but cold enough to frost bone:
"Tell the Council I've chosen my future already."
Ilvren stammered. "And what... shall I tell them that is?"
Kael walked past him.
Calm. Measured.
But with the weight of something ancient pressing behind each step.
He didn't look back when he said:
"I will not die in this palace."
"I will find the Towers."
"And I will burn every throne that ever sat upon a lie."
---
Somewhere in the distance, the Tower of Club awoke.
The stone groaned. The wind changed.
And the first Gatekeeper looked up from his seat of ash and whispered—
"The Heart has begun to beat again."
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End of Prologue