Many, many years ago there lived a king. A king with the whole world at his feet.
He was not an ordinary leader, but a conqueror, whose name alone outlived the tyranny of his predecessors.
He conquered kingdoms, not one but all of them. After fighting various battles against countless foes, he united every piece of land humans lived on.
He marched on mountains, oceans and even braved the spine chilling, ever changing expanse of ravenwoods —the forest where no soul would dare to enter voluntarily.
It was the place people referred to as feeding grounds of death —during that time.
It was not only a forest but a mysterious portion of land the size of a continent—that spread its vast expanse of illusory forests in the heart of the mainland.
The fear of the unknown was enough to keep humanity at bay.
Who knows what kinds of creatures would be lurking in a place that never stood still.
However, the king stood proud even in the face of unimaginable horrors, his determination never wavered, his heart never feared anything.
Just like the commander—the soldiers of his army were also courageous. It was the circle where bravery was taken for granted.
Needless to say their loyalty towards the king ran deeper than any ocean.
After achieving such amazing feats, every other individual should've shaped the world according to their will.
The urge to stay in power, the lingering sense of absolute authority, the desire to crush any skull that stood in your presence—It was common human nature after all.
That was indeed the power of a king. However, he was different. He valued humanity over anything else. Dreamt of creating a better world where everyone could feel happiness.
A utopia where no child would sleep hungry, no woman would feel unsafe and no man would carry the burden of everything alone.
A better, and ideal world for …everyone.
Perhaps it was his childhood that made him the person he now was.
He was a child born to a poor farmer after all.
Even the Gods could've only guessed that child would one day shake the very foundations of the world. That he would manage to emerge victorious in every battle he ever fought.
That he would one day make his dreams come true.
The king was kind, benevolent and an individual worthy of the attention of Gods.
Indeed, but the way he was perceived by the higher beings wasn't nearly positive.
They feared that he would weaken their influence over humanity.
In the honour of his countless victories people referred to him as 'the Neverfallen king'
Which was somewhat bearable for the absolute beings but the truth that masses contained power—enough to elevate the king up to the status on par with them—wasn't something the Gods could've allowed.
Belief and trust of people that he achieved by displaying his kindness was engraved in billions of hearts that hoped he would remain forever.
That's right, like he worked for the well-being of his people, they too started to dream for him.
He was a man larger than life already, but the reality of life was that it always comes to an end.
And what if your well-wishers did not want for you to die?
In the end the king did not become a god but with the courtesy of his people he achieved something greater than that.
A life beyond death.
They carved his name in their hearts so no one could forget who he was, and that way he will continue to live—beyond the bounds of this mortal world.
Earning him the title of "the Immortal sovereign"
This was the point where everything started to go south. The lands befall the wrath of the beings who couldn't tolerate the existence of such a powerful man.
They dispatched the vast army of every creature in a war against humanity. Implying that the humans had rebelled against them and it was evident that mankind learned their lesson.
In reality the Gods only wanted the king out of the picture.
However, the king displayed the reason why he was representing humanity. He displayed valor, honour, courage and bravery.
He called for soldiers and created the greatest army that was ever assembled in the history of mankind and marched into war with them.
A war of hope, they called it.
Humanity's greatest hope for peace. To finally break free from the control of higher beings.
Hence they marched, to defy the Gods.
And when the war started, all hell broke loose.
Humanity won but everything remained the same. Gods still held the power and people still obeyed their wishes.
And no one returned home from the battlefield.
What was surprising, however, at the place where the war of peace was fought—no human corpse was ever found even when the blood flowed there like lakes and rivers.
Since there were no witnesses, no one believed his death. Legends say that he vanished along with his army.
But the reality is that he lives, in the hearts of people, in the time period they named after his fall as the fallen era, in the stories of mankind, and in the pages of history that screams of his name,
The Neverfallen king.
The immortal sovereign.
King Rhaenos.
People believed he would come back someday. Maybe with another face or perhaps another form.
— —
August watched as his mother slowly closed the book before him.
A deep frown appeared on his face.
"What?" his mother asked. "You didn't like the story?"
August rolled his eyes,
"You skipped many pages. The rest of the story still remains."
Indeed, his mother did skip a big part of the story in order to keep him away from the cruel truth that was written in those pages. It was history, not a fairy tale after all.
However, she was a mother and possibly couldn't expose her five year old to scenarios like that.
So she thought of a plan that worked in both of their favors .
"Alright, if you want to know what happened in the rest of the story then maybe it's time you should learn how to read properly."
August of course didn't want her to start the lesson here and now so he jumped into her lap and acted,
"Momma, it's time to go to bed. I'm feeling sleepy."
His mother gave out a smile, knowing her plan worked in one way or another. Then she pulled the blanket over him and slowly lulled him into sleep.
— — — — —