When the Kingdom of Lumeris was born from war and wonder, two bloodlines rose together, one to rule, and one to protect. The royal house of Lumeris claimed the crown. And beside them, as constant as breath and as attached as thorns to a rose, stood the Falcrest family.
For as long as the kingdom has endured, so too has their oath that one Falcrest shall guard each royal heir with their life, until kingdom and bloodline cease to exist
Sir Aldric Falcrest, the latest to bear that responsibility, stood beneath the high tower of the Citadel as the bells rang for the birth of a new princess. Midadol Lumeris, daughter of King Cidolfus and Queen Benedikta, had entered the world beneath the first full moon of spring, her cries strong, her gaze steady.
But Sylas Falcrest was born a day later.
Just one day.
And yet, the court whispered.
The Falcrests had always come first born before the heirs they would swear to protect. It was tradition. It was fate. And fate does not misstep without meaning.
Some called it a harmless shift in stars. Others, an ill omen. The old priests murmured of misalignment. The royal scribes scratched new margins in the records. For the first time in living memory, the protector had arrived second.
Still, the oath was held.
Two children, born beneath the same season, one to rule, one to guard. They would grow as countless pairs had before them inseparable in childhood, unbreakable in duty. But unlike the others, a shadow lingered between their bonds. Not of betrayal, but of unease of what's to come of this broken tradition.
And far from the gleaming palace walls, beyond the reach of bells and lullabies, something watched. Something old. Something patient.
The Kingdom of Lumeris slept soundly that night.
But not all omens are meant to wake the world in thunder.
Some begin as whispers…