I have watched palaces rise on the backs of mortals who believed their walls could protect them from the darkness. I have watched those same mortals learn too late that stone cannot stop what walks in shadow. The capital of Arathen, one of the greatest kingdom on the planet Vvralis, shone like a jewel carved from dawn. But even jewels crack from pressure. Even walls crumble when destiny decides they are no longer needed.
And Erias, still carrying the weight of Kaelar's death, was walking straight into the heart of such a place.
The company reached the capital at midday. Sunlight struck the marble towers, making them glow like spears of light piercing the sky. Gold veins ran through the stone like captured lightning. Fountains shaped as dragons and winged beasts poured clear water into deep pools. Everywhere, people laughed, bargained, lived in comfort completely unaware that demons had swallowed a holy city just days before.
Erias could not believe any of it.
"This… this is even better than Aramoor," he said under his breath, unable to stop staring.
The High Priest, mounted beside him, gave a faint smile that never reached his eyes."My boy, this is only the outer city. When you see the royal palace… you will understand how far Arathen's wealth reaches."
Varos looked upon the capital quietly. He saw what others did not. Beneath the polished streets, beneath the carved fountains and shimmering towers, threads of corruption pulsed like veins. A tear in a kingdom that believed itself unbreakable.
As they approached the palace gates, the royal guard stood perfectly still, armor black and polished until it reflected the sky. Behind them, the massive gates carved with the crest of Arathen two lions circling a flaming sun opened slowly.
At the center of the royal guard stood Raelan.
The king's personal knight.
His aura was unmistakable. Even the knights of Torvas felt a chill at his presence.
Raelan did not speak until the company fully approached.
"The king awaits," he said simply.
Inside, the throne room expanded like an endless hall of light. Gold ran along the pillars like liquid sunlight. Stained glass windows portrayed the creation myths of the planet, Torvas alongside other gods slaying a serpent of shadow, kings crowned by divine hands. The marble floor reflected every footstep.
At the far end, the king rose from his throne.
The High Priest bowed deeply. Erias, Varos, and the knights followed.
But the king stepped forward immediately.
He took the High Priest by the arms and raised him."No need for such formality, old friend. I am glad you are safe."
His voice carried warmth, but beneath it I heard the strain of a ruler who felt the ground shifting beneath his feet.
"Come," the king said, "we must talk."
He gestured to the servants.
"See to our guests."
Varos and Erias were guided out of the throne room, their footsteps echoing behind them.
The king and High Priest walked deeper into the palace, their voices dropping low once they were out of earshot.
The king's expression darkened."I have heard whispers faint, unclear. But nothing from Aramoor itself. No warnings, no alarms. Not a single sign. How could the city fall without a message reaching me?"
The High Priest lowered his head."Your Majesty… I fear the palace was cut off. Someone wanted Aramoor to fall. Someone blocked the channels through which Torvas's priests contact the capital."
The king stopped walking.
A silence heavier than stone fell between them.
"You believe traitors live within my court," the king said quietly.
"I believe it is a possibility," the High Priest corrected, "and a possibility we can no longer ignore."
The king exhaled slowly."Then tomorrow, at dawn, we call the Royal Council. You will be present."
The High Priest bowed.
"As you command, Your Majesty."
The king left him there, the weight of the conversation heavy on both their shoulders.
Erias, meanwhile, walked to a balcony overlooking the capital. Lanterns flickered across rooftops as evening approached. People filled the plazas, buying spices, fabrics, and roasted meats. The wind carried the scent of flowers and distant rain. It felt unreal, peaceful so unlike the chaos Erias had survived.
But beauty never meant safety.
Raelan appeared behind him, silent as a shadow. His armor barely made a sound.
"You have grown stronger since the last time we met," he said.
Erias turned."Sir Raelan."
Raelan studied him, eyes sharp enough to cut through steel. He saw everything the boy's grief, the new confidence in his stance, the determination behind his gaze.
"Tell me," Raelan said, "do you intend to take the next step? To partake in the ritual?"
Erias blinked."What ritual?"
Raelan didn't explain.
He moved instead.
His sword flashed out so quickly that the air itself seemed to split. One heartbeat, the blade was sheathed. The next, its cold edge rested at Erias's throat.
Erias froze.
His hand hovered over his own sword but never reached it. He hadn't even seen Raelan draw.
Raelan stepped back and sheathed the weapon as if nothing had happened.
"That," Raelan said calmly, "is the distance between where you stand and where you think you stand."
Erias swallowed. He steadied himself, refusing to let the shock consume him.
"Between you and Kaelar," he asked quietly, "who was stronger?"
Raelan paused.
His eyes flickered with something pain, respect, memory.
He did not answer.
He simply turned and walked away, leaving his silence behind him like a stone dropped into deep water.
And Erias understood.
Kaelar's strength…Raelan's strength…These were mountains he had not yet begun to climb.
But he would.He had to.
I watched him, as I have watched countless mortals before him take their first steps toward becoming something more than they ever believed possible. The threads around him twisted tighter, pulling him into a destiny not meant for ordinary hearts.
Varos stood on another balcony, feeling the corrupted dream-energy pulsing faintly through the palace stone. He could sense demons in hiding. He sensed the traitor's hand, faint but real. And he knew the king's palace no matter how grand was already compromised.
The High Priest entered his chamber and knelt in prayer, struggling to remain steady in a kingdom where betrayal walked beside loyalty.
Raelan stood alone in the training courtyard, staring at the moonlit ground where old scars from battles long past still marred the stone. Memories of Kaelar flickered in him like sparks ready to burn.
And Erias, young and burdened, tightened his hand around his sword and whispered a silent promise to himself one only I heard.
"I will get stronger."
Above them all, I watched.
The patterns of this world shifted again.The threads knotted, twisted, pulled together toward something none of them fully understood.
The Fallen watched the capital.The traitor listened.Demons gathered in alley shadows.Nightmares stirred in Varos's realm.And the ritual Raelan spoke of waited in silence an ancient rite meant to forge or destroy.
The capital believed itself safe behind its golden walls.
It was wrong.
Because destiny had already entered the city, walking with a boy holding a sword too heavy for his heart.
And what comes next would shake the kingdom to its core.