Every morning began exactly the same way. Chris awoke with a violent start, his lungs gasping for air as if he had been drowning in the dark. Sweat soaked his linen sheets, and his heart hammered frantically against his ribs, driven by the lingering, jagged edges of a nightmare he could never fully remember.As the panic slowly subsided, his very first thought drifted to potatoes. It was a mundane anchor, but it was the last thing he and his uncle Marcell had spoken about before turning in the night before. The crop was ready for harvest. If Chris knew his uncle at all, it wouldn't be long before a firm knock rattled his bedroom door.For as long as Chris could recall, his world had consisted solely of himself and Marcell. Whenever Chris asked about the rest of their family, the questions were met with a wall of evasive silence or vague deflections. Over time, Chris noticed the deep, quiet pain that shadowed Marcell's eyes whenever the past was unearthed. Eventually, he simply stopped asking, figuring his uncle would share the truth when he was ready.The expected knock finally came, sharp and unyielding. Chris grunted in acknowledgment and quickly pulled on his clothes. Keeping Marcell waiting was never a wise choice. It wasn't that his uncle was a violent man, nor did he ever raise his voice; Marcell simply possessed a gaze so heavy and commanding that it could drain the courage right out of any defiant soul.Chris swung the door open just as his uncle raised his hand to knock a second time."Stop doing that," Marcell scolded gently, though his eyes narrowed. "You know what could happen if you begin to tap into that power."Chris forced a look of appropriate contrition and nodded, bracing himself for the lecture that usually followed. He never actively tried to access the strange, dormant forces his uncle constantly warned him about; he understood the inherent dangers. Yet, there were moments when his body seemed to instinctively pull from that hidden reservoir without his consent."At least this time it was just a premonition and not you levitating off a balcony," Marcell added, a sudden chuckle breaking his stern demeanor.Chris tried to suppress a smirk but failed. "The looks on the villagers' faces were priceless."Perhaps the day wouldn't be so grueling after all if Marcell was in a rare good humor. As they walked out toward the garden, Marcell kept talking, but Chris realized he had completely stopped listening. The words washed over him as his mind drifted back to Angie. Ever since he discovered she harbored feelings for him, she had consumed his every thought. He had loved her since they were children in diapers. Now, his mind raced with anticipation for their meeting later that evening, hoping to finally take their relationship to a physical level. Her father and Marcell were lifelong friends, and their families had practically prearranged their union anyway. What would it hurt?A sudden, sharp sound shattered his daydream. It was a foreign noise tearing through the quiet garden—the heavy, frantic thud of footsteps striking the soft dirt at full speed. Someone was sprinting directly toward them.Marcell instantly stood at attention. Chris watched the tree line as two figures burst into the clearing."Your Majesty!" a deep, booming voice shouted from a few dozen feet away."My King!" another voice joined in.Chris did not recognize either man, but because Marcell did not draw his weapon, he knew they weren't enemies."What the fuck are they talking about?" Chris muttered with a nervous chuckle.But Marcell didn't laugh. He glared at the approaching men, his entire bearing transforming in an instant. He stood unnaturally straight, his posture radiating a regal, terrifying authority. The sight made Chris's stomach lurch with a sudden, profound dread. Deep within himself, an instinct whispered that every plan he had made for his young life was forfeit."Your Majesty," the deep-voiced man repeated, dropping heavily to one knee in the dirt."Zeo, rise," Marcell roared, his voice cracking like thunder. "You know perfectly well you are never to address me by title outside of the palace! Are you trying to ruin every fucking thing I have built here?"Chris stood speechless. He had never heard his uncle raise his voice, let alone curse. He stared at the two men kneeling in the soil, trying to reconcile the uncle who dug potatoes with the king they claimed to serve. He knew Marcell's work occasionally took him to the palace, but this was absolute madness. Yet, why wasn't Marcell striking them down? One twitch of his uncle's wrist could cut both men to pieces.A sharp, blinding migraine flared suddenly behind Chris's left eye. The world began to tilt."Breathe and tell me what has happened," Marcell commanded the men, his irritation palpable."My King, the sage has been resurrected," Zeo proclaimed with stiff formality. "He has delivered a prophecy. The council demands your presence."Fierce anger flashed in Marcell's eyes. "Come to my home again sprouting demands, and I will snatch your fucking tongue from your mouth. Do you understand me?""Yes, Your Majesty," Zeo whispered, visibly trembling."Uncle..." Chris managed to choke out. Before he could say another word, his knees buckled, and he hit the dirt face first, darkness swallowing him whole.Voices drifted through the blackness of his mind, disembodied and distant."He should have been told years ago," an unfamiliar voice whispered."Is that really relevant now?" a second voice countered."I did what I felt was best," Marcell's voice broke through, heavy with sorrow. "After his parents... and my wife... I couldn't. He was just a boy. The weight of that responsibility would have crushed him."Chris was content to lie in the quiet dark, but the need for answers pulled him back toward consciousness. "Probably a good idea to fill me in now," he muttered, opening his eyes."Young Lord!" a woman nearby exclaimed. "Young Lord, I am Gaya. Please try to relax. I will call for the healer."Chris looked around the unfamiliar, opulent room. Marcell sat nearby, his eyes locked onto Chris, filled with absolute misery."Young lord?" Chris asked, his voice shaking as he tried to find his bearings. "Where are we? Uncle, what is going on? Angie is probably pissed," he added under his breath."Her father knows everything," Marcell said quietly. "Don't worry, she will be here later. I left out a few details to let you fill them in yourself. Hush now, my son. I will explain everything later. Please, just rest."A third man stood silently in the corner of the room, his sharp eyes tracking every movement, missing nothing. Suddenly, the heavy wooden door banged open with a loud thud."Ah, my boy! You're finally awake, I see," a vibrant older gentleman shouted, entering the room clad in a spotless white outfit. "I thought you might sleep the entire day away. Your father used to recover from his episodes much faster than this," he chuckled."Grandfather, show some respect," Gaya admonished, stepping in behind him."Yes, yes," the old man muttered.Gaya turned back to Chris, bowing formally. "Young Lord, this is Lo, leader of the Hiwren.""Hiwren?" Chris repeated. He wondered briefly if he was in a coma. It was the only logical explanation."Forgive me," Gaya said. "All will be explained, but first we must tend to your headaches."Chris's eyes went wide. "How could you possibly know about those?""Have the nightmares started as well?" Lo interjected, stepping closer.Chris panicked, trying to bolt upright in the bed, but the silent man in the corner placed a firm, immovable hand on his shoulder, stalling him."Uncle, what is this? Who the fuck are these people? Where are we?!" Chris shouted, his eyes wild with terror."I'm sorry, my son," Marcell said, his voice cracking. "I am so sorry I have to lay this burden on you. But please, I need you to calm down and get control of yourself. You are seventeen years old. I raised you myself. Now, act like a man."The sharp reprimand snapped Chris back to reality. His erratic breathing slowed, his eyes closed, and the sheer panic began to recede from his face."I guess I should start from the beginning," Marcell continued. "From the day your parents and my wife were killed."Chris tried to listen, but the sheer volume of information washed over him in a blur. The world felt entirely out of place until Marcell uttered a single phrase that pierced straight through the noise: "And that makes you the new ruler of Alced."The moment the words were spoken, Chris knew they were true. He felt it deep within his soul, an ancient, undeniable weight anchoring itself to his chest. Before he could even begin to process it, a timid knock sounded at the door."Enter," Marcell said, his voice carrying the effortless cadence of a true ruler.The door creaked open, and Angie poked her head into the room, her eyes straining to take in the unfamiliar surroundings. The apprehension on her face was almost tangible."Thank God you're okay," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "He is alright, isn't he?" She looked pleadingly around the room until Marcell gave a reassuring nod. Stripped of her hesitation, she ran across the room and threw herself into Chris's arms."I'm so sorry," Chris whispered, gently brushing a tear from her cheek.The days that followed dissolved into a blur of endless lessons. Advisors, scholars, and strategists moved in and out of Chris's quarters, forcing him to learn, study, and memorize the vast histories and laws of the kingdom. Luckily, Angie visited often, allowing him a brief escape to explain the madness of his new reality. She tried her best to understand, though she admitted she had no idea if this meant she was suddenly a future queen. Chris found himself constantly lost in daydreams of her, only mildly paying attention to the tutors.Fortunately, he had always been an excellent student with a near-perfect photographic memory. Even while half-mindful, he could effortlessly recite the textbook lessons back to his instructors. Yet, after a full week, he still couldn't truly digest the fact that he was a king."We should talk," Marcell said casually, slipping into the study room one afternoon."No shit," Chris replied, looking up from a heavy tome. "You can't just turn my life upside down and then disappear. I am the king now, remember?" He offered a small, tired chuckle, then looked at the guards. "Leave us."As the advisors and guards filed out, Chris rose and embraced his uncle tightly. "I've missed you," he whispered. Despite a burning curiosity, Chris chose not to press Marcell about where he had been during his week-long absence.As Marcell began to speak, Chris found himself tuning out the opening details of the history, entirely focused on the profound comfort of their familiar interaction. He hadn't realized until this moment how starved he had been for genuine companionship. The sudden lifting of his isolation felt like a physical weight leaving his shoulders.When Chris finally forced himself to refocus, his uncle was studying him. "So, how are your studies progressing?""Tedious at best," Chris replied. "I already know most of what they teach here. I've known it for years, honestly."Marcell chuckled softly. "I guess I am to blame for that. I wanted so badly for you to be prepared that I overdid it.""There is no way you could have known, Uncle," Chris said, trying to inject a newfound confidence into his voice. "With everything that has happened, you were only preparing me to be a man.""If only that were true," Marcell sighed, a deep bitterness creeping into his tone. "I have been preparing you to live a lie. To become something entirely against your nature. I wanted so desperately to protect you that I neglected every single lesson that would actually save your life."The sudden shift in the atmosphere made Chris's stomach drop. "What are you talking about? I couldn't have imagined a better upbringing.""Just let me speak for a while!" Marcell snapped, cutting Chris off before he could argue further. He took a breath, softening his tone. "Please, allow me to explain. I promise I will answer any questions you have afterward."Chris nodded, sinking back into his chair, content to listen."Since there is no easy way to say this, I will just speak plainly," Marcell began. "I knew about your parents' deaths years before it happened. It was revealed to me in my very first prophecy."Seeing the shock and betrayal forming on Chris's face, Marcell quickly raised a hand. "Give me a moment. I promise it will make sense. Centuries ago, a gift was bestowed upon our bloodline by the original occupants of this dimension. The force known as magic was introduced to our ancestors, and the world changed forever. The Ancients had absolute, complete control over this force, but within humans, it manifested differently. Some could control nature, or even time and space itself. Others could manipulate physical objects from a distance. The rarest of all possessed the gift of prophecy."Unable to hold it back any longer, Chris blurted out, "I'm calling bullshit, Uncle. Those sound exactly like the bedtime stories you told me to help me sleep.""Not stories," Marcell countered sharply. "Lessons. Factual history passed down and disguised as fairy tales. It was centuries of our heritage presented in a way that a young child could slowly grasp. Please, don't sidetrack me. This is hard enough as it is."Resigning himself to the truth, Chris quietly opened a decanter on the table and poured a drink for both of them.Marcell took a long, heavy draft before continuing. "Chris, the accident that killed your parents was not random. It was the direct result of an incredibly complex series of equations seeking to balance the forces of this world. You see, this magical gift has a reverse anomaly—a cosmic counterweight. Once in a great while, a person is born with such immense potential that their very existence threatens life itself. Sages have spent entire lifetimes searching for such anomalies. In my forty-two years, I have met only two. Your father was the first. And you, my son, are the second."Chris sat bolt upright, a feeling like molten lead churning in his stomach. His eyes grew wide and wild. Marcell stood up to steady his nephew, but before he could cross the room, the heavy doors of the great hall slammed open with a deafening echo."Sire!" a guard gasped, breathless. "An emissary from the wilds is approaching the gates!"