In the land of Kingdom Pearl, a realm long celebrated for its prosperity and just rule, Queen Avis's wise and compassionate leadership had been a beacon of hope for generations. Situated in what would one day be known as modern England, the kingdom flourished under her reign, its wealth matched only by its fairness.
But fate does not honor stability.
Queen Avis succumbed to the sweating sickness, and with her passing, the crown fell upon her son—Arthur Yorkist, young, inexperienced, and untested. Where the people saw grief, the world beyond Pearl sensed weakness. Borders were pressed, treaties ignored, and soon the kingdom found itself surrounded by enemies eager to claim its riches.
As war crept inward, the people waited—some in faith, others in fear—hoping their new king would rise to meet the weight of his inheritance. The fate of Kingdom Pearl balanced on a fragile edge.
---
A year into the conflict, desperation had replaced optimism.
In a somber council chamber, King Arthur addressed his advisors, his voice tight with restrained frustration.
"Why are we still unable to drive them back?"
Lord Thomas, his most trusted counselor, answered carefully.
"My King, our forces are stretched thin. We lack manpower, and our allies are trapped beyond occupied borders. I fear Pearl has become a bird in a cage."
Arthur clenched his jaw. "Then we expand the army."
A pause.
"There is only one remaining path," Lord Thomas said. "Citizen mobilization."
"Is it lawful?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. In times of existential threat, every citizen bears the duty to defend the realm. We can conscript twenty-five thousand at once."
Silence filled the chamber.
"Then it will be done," Arthur said at last. "Proceed."
No one objected.
By nightfall, messengers rode across the kingdom, carrying a decree that would change countless lives.
---
Later, alone in his chambers, Arthur stood before his mother's portrait. Candlelight flickered across Queen Avis's painted gaze—calm, unyielding, eternal.
"Forgive me," he whispered. "I was not ready."
His voice broke.
"I have failed your people. But I swear this—I will save this kingdom. Even if I must walk paths no king should ever tread."
The vow lingered in the still air, unanswered, yet heavy with resolve.
---
Far from the capital, nestled among rolling hills, lay the village of Ashdale—quiet, modest, and untouched by the front lines. Farmers tilled their land. Children played beneath open skies. For a time, the war felt distant.
That illusion would not last.
Chief Edward, the village elder, addressed the gathered townsfolk with grave urgency.
"The war tightens its grip. We are safe—for now. But we cannot remain here."
Eliva, an eighteen-year-old huntress, stepped forward.
"Where can we go? We have children, elders, the sick."
Her thoughts drifted to her family—her brother Elwin, stationed at the southern coast, and her younger sister Elgiva.
Before an answer came, a lookout burst into the square.
"Smoke in the forest! Enemy camp near the river!"
Panic spread.
"No fires," Chief Edward ordered. "Prepare quietly."
Moments later, the sky itself betrayed them.
A blinding light split the heavens.
The fireball struck without mercy.
Ashdale erupted in chaos—roofs aflame, screams swallowed by thunder. The attack was swift, merciless, and deliberate.
Eliva ran, smoke clawing at her lungs, bodies falling around her. There was no defense. No warning. Only slaughter.
By dawn, Ashdale no longer existed.
---
On the southern coastline, General Elwin stood within a weathered command tent, maps spread across the table. Beside him were his trusted companions: Leo, hardened by countless battles; Luther, meticulous and sharp-minded; and Kira, a battlefield physician whose eyes carried quiet exhaustion.
"We fortify the coast," Elwin said. "The sea is our advantage."
But his mind drifted.
"General!" Leo snapped. "Focus!"
Elwin blinked. "Yes—sorry."
Later, as he walked alone, he saw it.
A black ship.
Shrouded in mist. Silent. Watching.
When he turned back—it was gone.
That night, the vision returned. Stronger. Closer.
In the darkness of his tent, Elwin dreamed of standing aboard the vessel, facing a woman veiled in shadow.
"You are half-blood," she said.
The air bent around her.
"Win the trust of God," she whispered, "and the Silent Witness shall choose you."
The word burned into his mind.
Agate.
He woke to shouts.
"The enemy ship is trapped in the reefs!" Kira cried.
Hope flickered—but the sky darkened unnaturally. Clouds twisted. The wind screamed.
Something ancient was moving.
---
Far away, beneath the ruins of Ashdale, Eliva awoke buried beneath the dead.
Her hand was broken. Her village is gone.
And Elgiva was missing.
The silence that followed was worse than the screams.
---
End of Chapter 1