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Smoke curled into the gray morning sky, rising in long, lazy trails that danced above the shattered towers of Aetherion's capital. The once-golden spires of Elarion, proud and tall, now leaned like broken fingers clawing at the heavens. Fire still gnawed at the bones of the city, licking at wooden frames and silken banners, hungry and unrepentant.
Kael stood on the ridge overlooking the carnage, his breath shallow, his knuckles white against the reins of his mare. The wind shifted, bringing with it the scent of scorched stone and blood. He didn't flinch—he had smelled death before—but there was something different this time. Final. Cold.
The Crown was gone.
He couldn't see the throne room from here, but he didn't need to. The entire kingdom had felt it—an explosion of magic, a pulse of energy that had shaken the skies. Moments after, the sun had dimmed. Birds had stopped singing. Magic itself felt... wrong.
At his side, a cloaked figure shifted in the saddle. Seren, grizzled, quiet, and sharp-eyed, scanned the city through a brass spyglass. His face remained impassive, but Kael had ridden with him long enough to sense tension in the man's shoulders.
"They've taken the palace," Seren said, lowering the lens. "It's over."
Kael swallowed hard. "The King?"
Seren didn't answer immediately. Instead, he handed over the spyglass.
Kael raised it to his eye and found the royal courtyard.
Bodies littered the marble steps like discarded toys. Banners had been torn from their poles, trampled in the blood of knights. At the heart of it all, the Throne of Unity—once radiant, wreathed in elemental flame—sat empty. Cold.
Then he saw it. A glint among the rubble. The Crown of Aetherion, or what remained of it: a twisted arc of gold and mithril, broken down the center. The gems that once glowed with the magic of the five Great Houses were dark. Shattered.
Kael lowered the glass slowly.
"I need to go down there," he said.
Seren fixed him with a look. "And get yourself killed?"
"I need to see—"
"You've seen. That's enough."
Kael turned to argue, but Seren's expression silenced him. The man rarely raised his voice, but when he looked like that, it meant the discussion was over.
"Listen," Seren said, quieter now. "You're not ready for this. Not yet. If they find you—if they know who you are—everything ends here. Just like your father."
Kael looked back at the city. Somewhere beyond those broken walls, his birthright lay in ruins. He had trained his whole life for a moment like this—days spent with sword and spell, nights poring over the histories of the realm. But this... this wasn't how it was supposed to happen.
He wasn't supposed to be watching it all end.
"How did they get in?" Kael asked at last.
"We were betrayed."
Seren said it simply, but the words cut deep. Kael clenched his jaw. Of course they were. That was the only way anyone could breach the capital. The Silver Guard were the finest warriors in the realm. The palace was protected by old magic—wards etched in blood and fire, secrets bound in song. None of it could have been broken from without.
"There were five royal seals," Kael murmured. "Five. One from each house."
"One of them broke the pact," Seren said. "And they'll pay. But not now. Not here."
Kael looked away. Below, the city burned. And beyond it, the world shifted.
The kingdom of Aetherion had stood united for nearly a thousand years under the Crown. Not by blood alone, but by ancient magic—a covenant of five noble houses bound by flame, earth, sky, sea, and shadow. Together they held the balance. Together they ruled.
Now, that balance was undone.
"What happens next?" Kael asked, not looking at Seren.
There was a long pause before the old warrior spoke. "War. Chaos. The end of everything your father built. Unless..."
"Unless what?"
Seren's eyes narrowed. "Unless you live."
---
They rode hard that night, under cover of darkness, cutting across the woods and into the lower valleys. Kael had to trust Seren's judgment—the old knight had served his father for thirty years, sworn to protect the royal line even beyond death. But even so, leaving felt wrong. Every hoofbeat away from Elarion rang like a betrayal.
"You think it's over," Seren said once they stopped to water the horses near a stream. "But the game hasn't even begun."
Kael frowned. "Game?"
"You think power just disappears when a crown breaks? No. It changes hands. And those who seek it... they don't sleep."
Kael stared at the dark waters.
He wanted to ask a thousand questions: Who betrayed them? Why wasn't he called to fight? What would happen to the people? But the words tangled in his throat.
Instead, he whispered, "I could have helped."
Seren snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. You would've died in the first hour. And then there'd be no hope at all."
Kael didn't respond.
The truth was, he didn't feel like a prince—hidden away for years under false names, trained in backwater keeps and mountain retreats. His father had always promised him the day would come. But he'd never said it would start like this. With fire. With death.
With failure.
Seren began to unpack a roll of parchment from his saddlebag. He spread it on a fallen log and pointed to a ring of mountains in the east.
"This is where we're going," he said. "The Monastery of the Ember Order."
Kael blinked. "That's real?"
"As real as the sword on your hip. They're the last keepers of the old magic. The real magic. Not this court nonsense. They'll teach you what you need to know. If you survive the trials."
"Trials?"
Seren gave him a grim smile. "Did you think kingship was given?"
Kael sat back, feeling the weight of it all pressing against his chest. Crown. Magic. Trials. Destiny. These were things for legends, not orphans raised in exile.
And yet... the shards of the Crown still called to him.
He could feel it, even now, like a heat behind his eyes. Something old and hungry, waiting. The legacy of fire.
"You know what the seers called your father?" Seren asked, still watching him.
Kael shook his head.
"The Flameborn King," Seren said. "And you, Kael... You are his ember."
---
Morning came too quickly. The fire they had lit burned low, the ashes curling into the chill air like smoke from an old dream. Kael packed in silence, buckling his sword to his side, his cloak heavy with dew.
They were a day's ride from the mountains, and another two to reach the Ember Order—if they weren't hunted down first. Word would spread quickly. The king's heir lived. The Crown was broken. And in the power vacuum that followed, no one would want a boy king rising from the ashes.
As they prepared to mount, Seren froze.
Kael followed his gaze to the ridgeline above.
Figures.
Five of them, cloaked in black, mounted on dark steeds. Their faces were hidden beneath silver masks etched with twisting runes. Shadows coiled around them like smoke, and the air grew colder by the breath.
"Riders," Seren said grimly. "Too soon."
"Assassins?"
"No. Worse."
The figures moved slowly, deliberately. The one in front raised a hand—and the wind died.
Kael felt the magic immediately. Cold. Empty. Like falling into a grave.
"Run," Seren said, voice low and firm.
"We can't outrun them—"
"Run!"
Kael turned and vaulted onto his horse. They shot off down the slope, trees whipping past them in a blur. Behind them, the riders moved like phantoms—no hoofbeats, no shouting, just the hiss of shadow through grass and root.
Branches slashed at Kael's face as they plunged deeper into the woods. Magic sparked around him—small wards Seren had prepared long ago, lighting briefly before winking out under the assault of whatever unnatural force pursued them.
A scream pierced the trees.
Kael twisted in the saddle. One of the shadows had caught up—pulling Seren from his horse, lifting him like a child.
"NO!" Kael turned his horse, ignoring the panic in his chest.
But Seren raised one bloodied hand. "Go!"
Then flame erupted from his palm.
The forest exploded in fire.
Kael's horse reared, nearly throwing him, but he held on. Trees burned. The scream of shadow turned to shrieks of pain and rage. Seren stood in the inferno, sword drawn, a wall of fire coiling around him.
Kael rode.
Tears streamed down his face as the fire faded behind him, swallowed by trees and smoke. He didn't stop, didn't look back, not even when the echo of magic finally faded.
Seren had bought him time. With his life.
Now, Kael was truly alone.
But in his heart, something had kindled. Not just grief. Not just fear.
Purpose.
He would not let Seren's death be meaningless. He would not let his father's crown remain broken. He would survive the trials. Reclaim the shards.
And when the time came, he would burn those who brought ruin to Aetherion.
---
End of Chapter 1
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