POV: Matías Castleboard
That day, the ashes of the home I lost did not simply fall to the ground — they clung to my skin, a constant reminder of my first failure.
The scorching heat of the flames consuming everything around me, mixed with my mother's desperate screams and my sister's cries, drove me into a mental collapse I could no longer endure.
Kneeling, feeling the warm blood of my father spilling across my legs, I could do nothing but weep. Those tears carried not only my pain, but the sorrow of my entire family.
"Why…? What the hell did my family do to deserve this?" I whispered, fists clenched, struggling to hold onto my sanity.
Before me, the figures responsible for my agony walked away slowly from the massacre they had orchestrated.
The blood soaking the ground was not only that of my family—it was also the blood of countless innocents who had never agreed to this war.
Their bodies lay piled into a mountain of corpses, their souls burning in the flames, when all they had ever wanted was to live in peace.
"Mat… my son, please, look at me," my father murmured, his voice drained of strength. "I beg you… don't seek vengeance, no one is to blame…"
Before he could say more, he began coughing up blood. That crimson liquid spilled into my hand, staining it with an anger that, in the future, would grow uncontrollable… perhaps even become my undoing.
My father could already see it in my eyes — a destiny of vengeance, written into his soul the very moment he died.
His hands grew cold, the light of his life fading. The smile that had always greeted me, brightening the little I had, died with him.
The cry of vultures, hungry for their meal, was drowned out by a roar that tore from the depths of my soul, echoing again and again:
"I'll kill them!"
I accept that those words clouded my judgment, leaving an emotional void I could not control.
Even though my ears caught the final plea of my father—to protect my mother and sister—my mind and heart refused to accept it. Consumed by hatred, my body moved on its own.
My nails dug into the cold earth, ripping it apart with the scorched grass, while my legs, now hardened like steel, rose again, fueled by the will I had forged.
I don't know why they spared my life. The only thing I remember, before the assassin who killed my father struck me down, was clutching tightly the sword my father had given me.
I had run so far, my mother's voice screaming for me to stop, racing toward my father's killer to sever his head….
Only to end up unconscious on the ground, condemned to live with the curse of not being strong enough to save him.
POV: Kael Lanpar
I had fallen asleep during the journey to my parents' gathering, only to relive a memory I had long wished to forget.
Drowned in the pain of that past, I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes. I couldn't accept how everything had changed so suddenly. Life's irony always struck me the hardest, reminding me of everything I had lost.
To go from a life where safety was never guaranteed, to another where I was reborn as a prince, protected from all harm — was a burden I could hardly endure.
So lost in my thoughts, I didn't even hear my mother's words. Perhaps it was the slight tremor in my body, or the way I kept my eyes tightly shut, that made her realize something was wrong.
"What's the matter, Kal?" she asked softly, stroking my hair. "Did you have a nightmare, my little one?"
For a moment, I couldn't answer. I couldn't pretend—
but for my own sake, and for the future, I forced myself to do so.
"Yes… I think it was a nightmare," I replied, slipping from her arms to sit upright. "How much longer until we arrive?"
"Not much farther, Kal," my father exclaimed with a smile. "I can see you're eager to meet new friends."
"Yes… I suppose," I muttered, turning my gaze toward the carriage window.
Amid the dense forest that framed the path, with the many auras of animals roaming nearby, I caught sight of Alfin and my sister. Both moved swiftly among the branches, vigilant, making sure nothing went wrong.
Not long ago, I had overheard a conversation between my father and sister that revealed the reason for her absence at my birth: she and Alfin were part of Alkaster.
From the fragments of words I managed to catch, that organization was tied to the Lanpar family. I heard no more, for they discovered me listening.
"Your Majesty, a message has arrived from the Council of Alliances," declared the guard accompanying us inside the carriage.
I watched him hand a scroll to my father. At first, the letters were written in a foreign language. Then, suddenly, each word lit up with a soft blue glow and shifted into one I could recognize as our own.
"Nova, I want you to stay at Kael's side at all times," my father ordered, before turning his commanding gaze on me.
From what little I knew of that meeting, I could not grasp its full importance. Still, if countless clans were gathering in one place, awaiting their king, I doubted it was for good news.
"Kael, son, look at me," he said, pulling me out of my thoughts. "You will remain with Nova the entire time. Do not leave his side under any circumstance. Understood?"
I nodded, fully aware that something could happen to me at any moment. Marquians' words still echoed in my mind; his threat was impossible to forget.
What unsettled me the most was the certainty that he would likely be there as well. I had no idea what I would do if that were true—and that uncertainty frightened me more than anything else.
I didn't feel ready to face any of it. I couldn't even wield magic to harm; how was I supposed to defend myself in a world ruled by sorcery, when I couldn't even use it now?
"Well, I never thought I would see this place again," my father exclaimed, gazing out the window. "Noblezia, the bastion of the clans."
Before us, just as he described, rose a massive fortress that overshadowed everything around it. Soldiers of the realm and thousands of magicians from different cities marched in perfect rhythm.
Even from afar, the sheer magnitude of its grandeur was undeniable.
Two colossal statues, as tall as the skyscrapers from my past life, rose to the heavens like eternal sentinels.
They were not mere stone sculptures—I could feel it deep within me. They were alive… fulfilling a sacred duty of protection that transcended time.
With every meter we advanced, new details came into view. Eagles soared overhead with their vigilant riders, subtly escorting our carriage.
Magicians in ceremonial robes stood in solemn rows, each entering the city gates one after another.
When we finally crossed the threshold of the massive entrance—flanked on both sides by cascades of molten lava—we were greeted by a thunderous ovation.
The applause of the citizens blended with the resounding echoes of trumpets announcing our arrival.
The eyes of the crowd fell upon my parents with an intensity difficult to describe.
The young looked at them with burning admiration; the adults, with a quiet hope; and the elders, with a respect forged only through years and memory.
I don't know much about the history of my lineage, nor about the old scars of the kingdom. I've been so lost in my thoughts that at times I forget I've been given another chance at life.
And that isn't entirely bad. Learning to carry my past has given me a different kind of strength.
But perhaps… just perhaps, it would be wiser to focus, even a little more, on the life I have now. I never asked for it, but I refuse to waste it.
When the carriage came to a halt, we descended. My mother took my hand with the gentle touch only she possessed and gave me a warm, maternal smile.
"Smile, Kal. The people are counting on us," she whispered in my ear as we stepped down together.
I nodded silently.
I felt as if I were walking a runway: the crowd formed two columns on either side, clapping and chanting a phrase that, though foreign to me, resonated powerfully in the air:
Vivi sao Lanpar ehore to mundo und hilai gea.
I did not yet understand the customs of this place, so I gave it no further thought.
As we crossed the palace gates, where the other clan leaders awaited, a thunderclap tore across the sky. For an instant, I swore lightning would strike me.
Bolts danced among the clouds until, suddenly, a blinding and deafening light descended from the heavens. It struck the ground right beside my father—who did not flinch in the slightest.
"Striker Boro," my father pronounced firmly, addressing the imposing man now standing beside him. "It is good to have you with us for such an important ceremony."
"The honor is mine, Your Majesty," the man replied, kneeling respectfully before rising again. "We should head inside. There is no time to waste."
Without another word, my father led the way, and we passed through the massive marble doors guarding the entrance.
Inside the palace, eight faces greeted us, each carrying a different weight of emotion at our arrival. This was no ordinary gathering—and we all knew it.
"Nova, it's time," my father ordered with authority. "Take Kael to join the other clan heirs."
His instructions were clear. What I did not understand was why he leaned closer to Nova, whispering something I could not make out.
"As you command, Your Majesty," Nova replied, casting me a look that required no words to be understood.
I obeyed, drifting farther from my parents, though a dark premonition pressed heavily against my chest. I did not know what was coming, but I knew it would not be good.
Before vanishing entirely into the crowd, my eyes locked with those of an old man watching me intently. His gaze held no hatred, no malice—only a deep, indescribable love.
Who was that man?
And why couldn't I see his aura?
POV: Xavier Lanpar
As I watched my son move away, I stepped forward toward what awaited me. I knew this was ill-fated. I had long suspected this day would come… but I never imagined it would arrive so soon.
With a few subtle hand gestures, I signaled to Alfin and Mayrei, who waited hidden on the rooftops, ready to follow and protect Kael.
Too many clan leaders present today conceal their own agendas regarding the Lanpar name. And, truth be told, few are worthy of trust. But, as always, there is nothing more I can do.
For the sake of the realm, we must play the sheep surrounded by a pack of wolves thirsting for power.
"Well now… what a surprise. How are you, Xavier?" I heard the voice of my father-in-law. "I'm glad you saw fit to bring my grandson. I see he's grown a lot since the last time I saw him."
"Luis, it's good to see you too," I replied, shaking his hand firmly. "We've been a little busy with matters of the realm."
"I'm glad to know you're well," he said, beginning to walk at my side. "These are not easy times."
I allowed myself a small smile before turning to the formal greetings and customary exchanges with those present in the hall. We wasted no time. After saying goodbye to her father, my wife withdrew. Here, each of us had a role to play.
"I'm glad you've taken good care of my daughter," Luis said with a heavy sigh. "Now, to the important matter… how serious is this?"
"It would be better to discuss it in the council chamber," I answered, my voice faltering slightly. "This will only strain even further the fragile ties we hold with these clans."
"I see… then it is indeed a matter we must be concerned about," he declared, still following me through the vast palace corridors.
When we reached the council hall, the same hardened faces awaited us. The old lords—though not much older than I—bore in their features the marks of centuries of intrigue and the weight of history.
"So, you summon us only to deliver bad news, King Lanpar," the leader of the Trident clan spat with venom. "No doubt you have come to admit that you cannot bear the burden of ruling the human kingdom."
"If you'll allow me," I said, restraining the spark of my patience, "this is not the time for one of your jokes."
He did not answer. He only turned away as I took my seat at the immense table, where the crown lay waiting for me.
"First, I want everyone to calm down and look at this with the clarity the situation demands," I said with authority, raising my voice.
"Spit it out already, Xavier," Rengar Orouh interrupted impatiently. "What could be so dire?"
Before speaking the words that would seal the atmosphere and place the weight of everyone's trust squarely on my shoulders, I gave a signal to Boro.
With a simple snap of his fingers, an invisible electric field enveloped the entire hall as he positioned himself behind my seat—towering, impassive, and without expression.
I never enjoyed being the bearer of bad news… but I never ran from duty either. This was supposed to remain a secret, locked away in an unlikely prophecy—something that would never come to pass.
Yet it seemed there was more truth in it than falsehood.
The veils that had long shielded the continent of Mayora from external threats were beginning to fall… along with my confidence that all would turn out well.
"As you all know, these last few years have given us peace, tranquility… and hope." I paused, searching for words sharp enough to pierce the arrogance of those listening to me.
My hands trembled. My voice faltered. I was afraid… truly afraid. I could not bring myself to tell them this would not end well. And through that vision of the future, I saw everything consumed by fire.
A deathly silence gripped the hall. Everyone stared at one another, waiting for me to speak, unable to fathom why I held my tongue.
"Hahahaha! What in the hells are you babbling about, Lanpar? Why don't you just spit it out?" mocked the Trident leader with disdain. "Since when have you grown so hesitant with your words?"
His voice was the spark that lit the powder. The hall erupted in shouts and curses. Voices clashed, accusations flew, denials rang out…
Only a few, in silence, were beginning to glimpse the reality of the threat looming over us. Yet even they were unwilling to accept it so easily.
I had thought this was the dawn of a new peace… but it was nothing more than the beginning of the final pages of our history.
"Silence, all of you!" I roared, letting the full weight of my name and authority crash down upon the room.
"Xavier, what are you hiding from us?" asked Marquians Midorian. "What kind of thing could possibly…?"
He never finished his question. The hurried footsteps of several men echoed urgently down the corridors.
A soldier burst in, slamming the door open. With another at his side, he carried in his arms a dying mage, barely able to speak.
"My king… in the Forjador mountains we saw demons…" the wounded man's voice broke, confirming my worst fear.
"They slaughtered our entire squadron, Your Majesty… they were…" His words dissolved into sobs as his companions held him up.
The faces in the room twisted in confusion. Those beings they called demons were yet another secret I had tried to bury… but one I could no longer keep hidden.
"He's one of our scouting soldiers," Marquians exclaimed. "In distant lands, perhaps he was attacked… but it's strange it wasn't the dwarves."
"It wasn't Máximo's men," I replied, my words carrying through the chamber. "No one from this continent struck them."
As I finished speaking, a dark crystal sword began to form in my hand, forged from the very particles of air surrounding me.
I gripped the hilt tightly, angling the blade to glimpse my reflection: a face marked by fear I could not show the others.
I raised the sword, cutting through the air around me, and whispered words I had never thought I would speak.
No one else could hear them—only me.
It is time to see if the gods can bleed.