Chapter 1: The Flower in the Moonlight
The kingdom of Vaeltharion stretched across rolling hills and silvered forests, a land of both sunlit valleys and misted mountain passes. Its towers gleamed in white stone with gold filigree, and gardens of rare flowers sprawled across the palace grounds. Streets below hummed with life: children ran with laughter, vendors hawked spices and fabrics, and guards in polished armor patrolled diligently. Though Vaeltharion was wealthy and powerful, its true strength came from the loyalty of its people, who loved their rulers for fairness and courage rather than titles alone.
At the heart of the kingdom rose the royal palace, a monument of both elegance and authority. Its spires reached skyward, and balconies overlooked the courtyard where young nobles and servants alike passed their days. On this afternoon, the courtyard was alive with motion. Birds chirped in the gardens, the scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the faint aroma of spiced bread from the kitchens, and the distant clatter of training swords echoed against stone walls.
In the center of the courtyard, Rhaever Noctyrr, crown prince of Vaeltharion, practiced with a wooden sword. He was nine years old, tall for his age, with dark hair that tumbled over sharp, perceptive eyes. Even at this young age, he moved with a grace and precision that made older trainees pause to watch. His small hands gripped the sword with care, striking, spinning, and pivoting as though he were already commanding armies in his mind.
Though Rhaever was the son of a polygamous royal family with many siblings, he had earned admiration from every corner of the palace. Servants, guards, and tutors alike spoke of his kindness and fairness, noting that he treated everyone with respect, no matter their rank. Yet behind his gentle demeanor was a boy of fierce determination. He trained not to show off, but to protect those who could not defend themselves, and he pushed himself daily to become stronger, faster, and smarter.
The rhythm of his practice carried through the courtyard, the soft thud of boots on stone punctuated by the sharp swish of wood striking wood. Then a sharp gasp cut through the air—a sound of fear and surprise.
Rhaever froze mid-swing. His eyes darted toward the sound.
At the edge of the courtyard, a girl clung precariously to the branch of a tall silverwood tree, her small frame trembling. In her hand was a silvery flower, petals shimmering faintly in the sunlight—the Moonshade Bloom, a flower so rare it was spoken of only in whispered tales. It was said to bloom only where courage dared.
The branch cracked beneath her weight. She slipped.
Rhaever leapt forward instinctively, catching her just before she fell to the ground. The girl landed in his arms, clutching the Moonshade Bloom tightly.
"You're safe," he said, steadying her. His dark eyes swept her quickly, checking for injury. "Are you hurt?"
Her cheeks flushed deep red. "Th-thank you… I… I didn't expect anyone to be here."
Rhaever noticed the flower she held. "The Moonshade Bloom… why were you reaching for it?"
The girl straightened, courage flashing in her eyes. "I… I wanted to give this to the crown prince. I've heard he trains girls too. I want him to be my master, to teach me to be a warrior. I wanted him to see that I'm brave enough."
Rhaever blinked. "You… wanted to give this to him?"
"Yes!" she said quickly, her gaze steady. "My father… he doesn't want me to train. He says it's too dangerous for girls, that the world isn't kind to those who fight. He wants me to stay safe and focus on other things… but I want to learn. I thought… maybe if the crown prince saw I'm serious, he could convince my father to let me train."
Rhaever studied her carefully. The determination in her eyes reminded him of the first time he held a sword under the tutelage of the royal guard. Though small, she radiated courage. "Climbing that tree alone… that was brave," he said softly.
The girl's lips curved into a small, proud smile. "And you… you saved me. That makes you braver than I imagined."
Rhaever smiled faintly. "I only wanted to make sure you were alright," he said quietly. "Stories can grow bigger than reality. Sometimes the person in the story isn't exactly who everyone imagines."
"I hope the real crown prince is as kind as they say," she said, her voice earnest. "And that he would teach someone like me, even if my father disagrees."
Rhaever's eyes lingered on her. He said nothing of his identity.
The girl's small satchel rustled as she tucked the Moonshade Bloom inside, glancing nervously toward the palace gates. "I… I should go now," she said softly.
"Will you come back?" Rhaever asked.
"Perhaps," she said with a small nod. "If I can be brave enough."
Rhaever watched her walk away, noting the set of her shoulders and the fierce pride in her step. The courtyard returned to its quiet rhythm—the birds, the scent of grass, and the soft clatter of swords—but something lingered in the air, a sense that this meeting, though brief, was not ordinary.
Beneath the silverwood tree, a quiet bond had formed: a boy destined to lead a kingdom, and a girl determined to become a warrior against the odds. The rare Moonshade Bloom, still fresh in her satchel, would come to symbolize more than courage; it would mark the beginning of their intertwined fates.
Even as Rhaever returned to his practice, his thoughts kept drifting back to her. He wondered if such courage, in someone so small, could really survive the harsh realities of the world. He did not yet know that this small act of bravery, this simple meeting beneath a tree, would set in motion events that would shape not only the girl's future, but the fate of Vaeltharion itself.