The night was shrouded in darkness, a storm of chaos that consumed the empire. The once-proud walls of the imperial palace, now scarred by the brutality of the rebellion, stood like tombstones marking the fall of an era. The cries of battle echoed through the halls, the sound of steel clashing against steel, and the screams of the dying filling the air. Amidst it all, in the highest tower, a child stood frozen, his wide, innocent eyes unable to comprehend the horror unfolding before him.
Axel Von Archonnia, the last heir to the once-great empire, was barely three years old. His small form was dwarfed by the grand windows that overlooked the city, now aflame with the fires of revolt. His delicate hands gripped the ornate railing as he watched his world unravel before him, helpless and silent. His father, the emperor, had fallen first—slain by the traitorous hands of his closest advisor. His mother, the empress, had tried to flee, but the assassins had found her in the palace gardens. One by one, his brothers and sisters were taken, their lives extinguished with brutal precision.
Axel's heart hammered in his chest, the fear overwhelming his tiny body. His cries were drowned out by the sounds of the rebellion, as if the world itself had forgotten the innocence of a child caught in the tide of history's cruelty.
In that moment, as his family was torn apart before him, Axel knew only one thing: survival. He didn't understand the betrayal, didn't grasp the weight of the empire's fall, but he felt the deep, consuming loss that echoed through his every fiber. His world, which had once been a realm of safety and grandeur, had turned into a nightmare. And now, he was alone.
But the child's fate would not be sealed by his lineage alone. As the palace walls crumbled around him, a shadow moved in the darkness—swift, silent, and deadly. The leader of the rebellion, a man draped in the crimson and gold of his house, approached the child with cold, calculating eyes. Axel's breath caught in his throat, his tiny frame trembling as he stared at the stranger who now held his life in his hands.
The man, a general of the rebellion from the House of Emberhart, was known for his ruthless ambition. But when his eyes met the frightened gaze of the last surviving member of Archonnia's royal family, something in him shifted. A flicker of hesitation, a whisper of mercy, passed through his hardened heart.
"Take him," he ordered one of his men, his voice low and firm.
The soldier, a man with a heart as cold as the blade in his hand, hesitated for a moment before moving toward the child. Axel's wide eyes filled with terror as the soldier reached for him, his small body trembling as the grip of his captor tightened. But before the soldier could carry out his orders, the general intervened once more.
"No. I'll take him myself," the general said.
And so, the child was taken—not as a prisoner, but as something else entirely. The general's cold demeanor remained unbroken as he cradled Axel in his arms, the child's tears soaking through his blood-stained uniform. There was no comfort, no solace to offer—only the cold reality of the world that Axel would now inherit.
For reasons Axel could not yet comprehend, the general did not end his life. Instead, he carried the child away from the burning ruins of Archonnia, the only legacy of a fallen empire. The rebellion had claimed the empire, but it had not yet claimed its last heir.
Axel Von Archonnia, the last of the royal bloodline, would live on—but not as a prince. His fate, twisted by the cruelty of the rebellion, would take him far from the shattered remnants of his family's glory. The general, a man named Leo Von Emberhart, took the child in, adopting him as his own, and thus began the strange, silent bond between the last heir of Archonnia and the house that had destroyed his empire.
In time, Axel would grow, his name fading into the shadows of history, and yet his destiny was far from sealed. The flames of Archonnia still smoldered in his heart, the legacy of his family and his lost empire haunting his every step. But for now, he was simply a child—a child taken in by the very hands that had torn apart his world, destined to become something far different than the prince he was born to be.