The morning broke over Calderis in a blaze of scarlet and gold, the sun bleeding across the jagged rooftops of the capital. From the high windows of Fortress Valtheron, Kael could feel its warmth against his skin, though his veiled eyes would never drink in the dawn. The palace stirred awake with its usual clamor: servants rushing like ants, guards changing shifts, and courtiers whispering gossip before the king's court convened.
But beneath the ordinary hum of life, Kael sensed something else—something wrong.
A ripple.
It brushed against the edge of his consciousness, faint but undeniable, like a stone dropped into still water. His pulse quickened. His demi-god blood rarely stirred without reason. Something beyond the palace walls was shifting.
"Rylan," Kael murmured, tilting his head slightly.
The warrior was at his side at once. "What is it?"
Kael's voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. "The air tastes different. Can you feel it?"
Rylan frowned. "The air?" He inhaled deeply, brow furrowing. "Smells like incense and polish to me."
Kael's lips curved into a faint smile. "Then perhaps it is not the air, but the world itself."
Before Rylan could answer, a sharp knock echoed at the chamber doors. The heavy oak creaked open, revealing a steward in crimson robes. He bowed quickly, his eyes darting nervously toward the veiled prince.
"Your Highness," the steward stammered. "The king summons all his sons to the Hall of Judgment. Immediately."
Rylan tensed. Summons from Valtheron were never simple. They were performances of power, designed to humiliate or test. Kael inclined his head, the silver veil glimmering faintly.
"Then let us not keep my father waiting," Kael said softly.
---
The Hall of Judgment was a cavern of marble and shadow, lit by braziers that spat sparks into the air. King Valtheron sat upon the obsidian throne, draped in furs and gold, his crown heavy and sharp like a weapon. At his feet, courtiers knelt in reverent silence.
Prince Darius stood proudly at his father's side, a predator in human form. His armor gleamed, polished to mirror brightness, and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword as though he longed for a chance to prove himself. When Kael entered, guided by the measured steps of his cane and the silent watch of Rylan, Darius smirked.
"Ah, the shadow comes crawling," Darius sneered. "Careful, brother. You might trip on the floor you cannot see."
A ripple of laughter swept through the court. Kael's head tilted slightly, as if listening to a melody only he could hear.
"I do not need to see the floor," he replied evenly. "I walk it more carefully than those who take it for granted."
Darius's smirk faltered. Valtheron's golden eyes flashed with irritation, but he said nothing. Instead, the king raised a hand, silencing the hall.
"A rebellion stirs in the east," Valtheron declared, his voice booming. "Farmers whisper treason. Merchants refuse tribute. And fools believe I am weak enough to be defied."
The courtiers trembled. Valtheron leaned forward, his gaze sweeping across his sons.
"One of you will ride to Silverwood and crush this insolence before it spreads. Darius, you will lead the army."
Darius bowed, triumphant.
Valtheron's eyes slid toward Kael. "And you…" His voice dripped venom. "You will remain here, hidden behind your veil, as you always do. Pray that your weakness does not infect my court."
The hall erupted in cruel laughter. Kael's hands curled into fists beneath his robe, but his face remained calm. He could feel Rylan's steady presence beside him, grounding him.
But in the depths of his soul, the ripple stirred again—stronger this time.
---
Far from the obsidian walls of the palace, the Silverwood Forest whispered with secrets of its own. Morning light filtered through ancient trees, dappling the mossy ground with gold. Birds sang, and the wind carried scents of earth and pine.
Liora knelt by the riverbank, washing clothes in the icy stream. Her hands ached, raw from work, but she hummed softly to steady herself. Beside her, Kaela crouched, keeping watch with sharp eyes and a dagger glinting at her belt.
"You shouldn't hum so loud," Kaela muttered. "Seraphine will hear and call it laziness."
Liora's lips curved sadly. "Let her. A song is all I have."
As if in answer, the water beneath her hands shimmered. For a heartbeat, it glowed—silver and alive. Liora gasped, pulling her hands back. The stream rippled unnaturally, then stilled.
Kaela's eyes widened. "What was that?"
"I… I don't know," Liora whispered, her heart pounding. But deep within her, something stirred. A warmth, faint but undeniable, pulsed through her veins. She pressed her hand to her chest, trembling.
Kaela grabbed her shoulders. "Liora, look at me. You're not—hurt, are you?"
"No," Liora breathed. Her voice was almost a whisper. "I feel… stronger."
The air around them shifted. The forest grew quiet, as though listening. A breeze rustled the leaves, carrying with it a whisper neither girl could understand.
And far away, in the obsidian palace of Calderis, Kael froze. His head tilted toward the east, breath catching. He could feel it—the same ripple, the same awakening.
Rylan noticed the change instantly. "Kael? What is it?"
Kael's lips parted in awe, and for the first time, a trace of wonder colored his voice.
"Someone else has awakened."
---
The day passed with tension coiling in the air like a storm. Kael withdrew to his chambers, pacing slowly, tracing patterns in the stone floor with his cane. Rylan watched in silence, knowing the prince's mind was unraveling a puzzle invisible to all others.
"She is close," Kael murmured at last. "Closer than I imagined."
Rylan frowned. "She?"
Kael only smiled faintly, his veiled eyes turned toward the east.
Beyond the Silverwood, Liora lay awake in her narrow bed, staring at the ceiling as the warmth in her veins pulsed steadily, like a heartbeat not her own. Kaela slept lightly nearby, dagger in hand, but even in dreams her brow was furrowed in worry.
Neither girl, nor the veiled prince miles away, knew what awaited them. But the threads of destiny were tightening, weaving them closer with every breath, every rip
ple of unseen power.
The storm was coming. And when it broke, Eryndor would never be the same.