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Nathan stayed frozen on the steps, his fingers brushing against the royal railing as he tried to read his mother's face. Her words sounded soft, almost reassuring, but beneath them… something felt hidden.
'Why tonight? he wondered. What does she mean by that?'
For a moment, he thought he felt the faintest pulse inside his chest — the medallion's aura, buried and quiet, as if it stirred only when his doubts grew. But just as quickly as it came, it vanished again, leaving him uneasy.
Fred glanced at him, then at Rhea. "You're being a little too vague, sister," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. "What's this all about?"
Rhea only smiled, that same chilly but innocent smile, her eyes never breaking from Nathan's.
"Trust me brother" she said softly. "I just want to talk clearly with his friend Mira… to see if she's related to that bloodline."
Nathan blinked, his brows furrowing. "Bloodline? What do you mean—"
Rhea raised a hand gently, cutting him off with a calm look. "No, dear. You'll find out later. Tonight, perhaps." Her smile brightened just a little, softening the edge of her words. "For now, how about I get both of you some cookies when she arrives back? If you'd like, you can rest first."
Fred's eyes narrowed slightly, confusion written across his face. He leaned back in his chair, muttering under his breath. 'Bloodline? What in the world is she talking about now…'
Nathan didn't press further. Still, a strange unease clung to him, even as his mother's words tried to make everything sound light and harmless.
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Rhea, his mother, thought of a way to help Nathan forget, realizing she might have spoken too directly to Mira about the bloodline—the very thing that had clung to Nathan since the beginning, ever since Lilith, the half-hearted human, half-demon, had first told him of the hidden bloodline. Though Lilith never explained it in detail, she had given him the medallion, and its presence had never left him.
Rhea gently brushed Nathan's hair to the side, her touch tender and motherly. "You can rest in your room, Nathan. Forget those things for now. You don't need to burden yourself. You may even take Grey with you, if you like."
Nathan nodded slowly, but worry still shadowed his eyes. "Alright… I'll try, Mother."
"Good." Rhea smiled faintly, though her eyes betrayed the sadness she held within. "Rest. I'll take care of things from here."
Nathan gave a short nod, calling softly, "Come on, Grey." The gray bunny twitched its nose and followed as Nathan made his way down the quiet hall. He walked in silence until he reached his room. The moment he lay on the bed, Grey curled beside him, resting its head on his arm. Yet the stillness of the castle pressed on him. No matter how he tried, his thoughts returned to Mira's tearful face and his mother's calm but uncertain words.
He turned his gaze toward the medallion resting on the table. Its faint glow seemed to pulse with his heartbeat.
'Forget, huh…? he thought. If only it were that simple.'
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Meanwhile, in the corridor, Queen Rhea sat quietly beside the couch where her brother Fred rested. Her hand hovered over her chest, as though holding something heavy inside. Her voice came out soft, barely a whisper.
"Please… let him not suffer for the truths I've hidden."
Fred turned his head slightly, noticing the tremor in her tone. "Rhea," he said gently, leaning forward, "you've been carrying something on your heart for too long. If it concerns Nathan… you can't keep it buried forever."
Rhea lowered her eyes, silent for a long moment. "You think I don't know that?" she said quietly. "But some truths… once spoken, they can't be taken back. Not even by a mother."
Fred sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Still, the longer you keep it, the harder it'll be for him when he finds out himself."
Rhea rose slowly, brushing her hands together as if to gather her resolve. "You wait, tonight," she said softly but with seriousness in her eyes. "There's something I must do first." Without waiting for his reply, she walked down the stairs, her gown trailing lightly behind her.
Fred stayed seated for a while, listening to the faint sounds echoing through the hall. Then, with a heavy exhale, he stood and approached the royal railing. Placing both arms on it, he gazed down toward the main hall below.
From his view, he saw Rhea speaking gently to Mira, who stood near the entrance with Aerois perched neatly on her shoulder. The little bird flapped its wings once before nibbling Mira's hair affectionately. The girl carried a medium-sized leather backpack, a bit worn but well-kept—fitting for her nine-year-old frame.
Rhea knelt a little to Mira's height, smiling softly as she adjusted the strap of her bag. They exchanged a few quiet words that Fred couldn't hear, but he saw the way Mira nodded politely, bowing in gratitude before heading for the stairs. Rhea watched her go with that same calm, motherly smile before turning away toward the kitchen—where King Nalon was waiting.
Fred let out another sigh, muttering to himself, "That woman still worries for everyone but herself…"
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Moments later, Mira reached the second floor, breathing lightly from the climb but smiling as Aerois perched back onto her shoulder, grooming its left wing.
Fred turned when he heard her footsteps. "Oh—you're back," he greeted warmly. "So, your grandpa agreed to let you stay here?"
Mira nodded, her eyes bright. "Yes, Uncle Fred. He said I can stay… but only for one day."
Fred chuckled softly. "Only one day, huh? Well, that's still something. At least the castle won't feel so quiet tonight."
She smiled wider. "Thank you. It's nice here… warmer than I remember."
Fred nodded approvingly. "That's good to hear. Well, Nathan's in his room. He's probably resting, but… I'm sure he'd be happy to see you."
Mira tilted her head. "Should I go now?"
"Go ahead," Fred said, giving a light nod. "I'll let your grandpa know you've arrived. And don't worry, I'll have some cookies brought up later, just in case you two get hungry."
Mira's eyes lit up. "Cookies? Really?"
Fred grinned. "Of course. You kids deserve something sweet after all that walking."
"Thank you, Uncle Fred!" she said brightly.
"Go on," he said with a smile, waving her off. "Nathan might still be awake."
Mira nodded, then walked to the hallway until she reached the royal door. She hesitated a bit, adjusting her backpack strap before knocking gently.
Seconds passed—no answer.
She frowned a little. "Nathan?" she called softly.
Still nothing.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she slowly turned the handle. The door creaked open, revealing Nathan's dimly lit room—the curtains drawn, the medallion's faint glow shimmering from the table.
Mira stepped in cautiously, her voice quiet but sincere. "Nathan…?"
No reply.
Only the faint rustle of curtains moving.
Then she spotted something on the table.
"Grey?" she said, seeing the small white bunny sitting perfectly still beside the medallion. She smiled, relieved. "Oh, there you are!"
She walked closer, reaching out to pat him—but stopped halfway.
The bunny didn't blink. Didn't move.
Aerois flapped his wings softly, tilting his head again as if confused. Mira leaned in closer, squinting. "Hey… why are you so quiet?"
She poked the bunny's ear—then froze.
It didn't twitch.
She blinked. Then again. "Huh?"
Lifting it carefully, she realized it was soft and stuffed. "A toy?!"
Before she could process it—
"Boo."
"W-wha!"
Mira jumped back with a squeak, clutching the plush tightly to her chest. Nathan burst out laughing from behind her, half hiding near the wardrobe.
"Nathan!" she yelled, cheeks puffed slightly. "That's not funny!"
He laughed harder. "You should've seen your face!"
She pouted. "That's mean! I thought it was Grey!"
Nathan chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, you did the same thing to me in the crowd, remember? When I was standing on that crate and almost fell?"
Her eyes widened, then she covered her mouth to hide a giggle. "I was just playing! You looked so funny when you fell!"
"Exactly," Nathan said proudly, crossing his arms. "Now we're even."
Mira stuck out her tongue. "Hmph."
Aerois made a tiny chirp, sounding like he was laughing too. Mira glanced at him. "Not you too!"
Nathan chuckled, walking over to her. "Come on, it was just a joke. You scare way too easily."
She sighed but smiled anyway. "Fine… but you owe me sweets later."
"Deal," Nathan said instantly, grinning. "Cookies, maybe?"
"Chocolate ones!" she said quickly, brightening up. "Or the ones with jam inside."
Nathan laughed softly. "Okay, okay, chocolate with jam inside. Happy?"
She nodded proudly. "Very."
As she calmed down, Mira slipped her small backpack off her shoulders and placed it neatly on Nathan's bed. "There," she said with a satisfied nod, brushing her hands together. "Now it feels like I'm staying for real."
Nathan smiled, watching her. "Guess you really are staying tonight, huh?"
She nodded. "Only one day. Grandpa said so. But that's enough—I wanted to see everyone again."
He looked down for a moment, his voice quieter. "I'm glad you did."
Mira tilted her head. "You sound sad."
Nathan shook his head quickly. "No, just… thinking."
She hugged the plush bunny she still held. "Then don't think too hard," she said softly, like she was repeating something Rhea might've told her once. "It makes your head hurt."
That made him smile. "Yeah… maybe you're right."
The two of them sat down at the edge of his bed. Grey hopped up beside them, Aerois perched on the headboard watching over like a tiny guardian.
Mira looked around the room, eyes landing on the medallion's gentle glow. "That thing looks pretty," she said. "But… it also feels kinda heavy, doesn't it?"
Nathan hesitated, glancing at it too. "Yeah. Sometimes." Then he added quickly, "But it's nothing bad. Just… something my mom wants me to forget for a while."
She nodded slowly. "Okay. If it's hard to think about, we can just talk about cookies instead."
He chuckled. "Cookies sound a lot better."
They both laughed quietly. The sound was small, but it filled the room with warmth.
Aerois chirped happily while Grey nudged Mira's hand for another pat. For a while, it was just the two of them—two kids sharing laughter and secrets inside a castle too big for silence.
After a few minutes, Mira hopped off the bed and wandered curiously toward the short hallway connected to Nathan's room.
"Where are you going?" Nathan asked.
"Just looking," she said, smiling.
She stepped through the small archway, her footsteps light against the polished floor. At the end of the short hallway, sunlight spilled through tall balcony doors. As she pushed them open, a soft afternoon breeze brushed through her hair.
Her eyes widened in awe.
Below, the entire kingdom stretched out beneath them—the towers, the garden courtyards, the glimmer of distant rivers—all glowing softly under the golden daylight.
"This is beautiful…" she whispered.
Nathan joined her, standing beside her at the balustrade. "Yeah. This is where Mom and I always sit," he said with a faint smile. "She says it's the best view in the whole kingdom."
Mira's eyes shone with happiness. "She's right."
The wind passed through their hair, carrying the faint scent of flowers from the gardens below. In that quiet moment, the laughter from earlier faded into something softer—peaceful, like the world was gently holding its breath just for them.
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Grey hopped onto a chair near the polished balustrade, his little paws twitching as he sat still. Aerois flapped his wings softly and landed right on Grey's head, puffing up proudly like a tiny guardian statue.
Mira giggled. "They look like best friends now."
Nathan smiled faintly, leaning on the balustrade beside her. "Yeah… they've always been best friends ever since I've met them."
A soft silence followed. The wind brushed against them again, warm but gentle.
Nathan glanced at her, hesitating for a moment before speaking. "Hey, Mira…"
"Hm?" she said, still watching the view below.
"Do you… have a lot of friends?"
She blinked, thinking for a moment. "I used to," she said softly. "Last year...."
He looked at her. "What happened?"
Her smile faded a little. "Some of them got sick… and didn't make it. Just like my mom did." Her voice was quiet now, almost carried away by the wind. "And some of my cousins moved far away. To the Aurelia Kingdom. Grandpa said they're safer there."
Nathan lowered his eyes. "Oh…"
She hugged her arms gently. "I still miss them sometimes, especially mother. We used to play and talk outside every day, and now… it's quiet."
Nathan glanced at her. "You said your mom… passed away," he began slowly. "But… what about your father?"
Mira's eyes softened, her voice dropping low. "Grandpa said he's in Aurelia too. He got hurt during the last battle here, his right arm. So he went there with his brother to get better."
Nathan nodded, not sure how to respond, but the sadness in her tone made his throat tighten. "I hope he gets better soon," he said quietly.
She smiled a little. "Me too."
Nathan stayed quiet for a bit, staring at the kingdom below them. Workers and villagers moved about—men carrying wood, others fixing rooftops, and children running near the square.
Then Mira turned her head. "How about you? Do you have friends too?"
Nathan smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Not really. Just… people who visit the castle sometimes. But they're not close. They just bow and call me 'young prince.'"
"Then you don't play with them?" she asked softly.
He shook his head. "No. I don't even know what their houses look like. Or how they live. I guess I just… grew up here."
Mira tilted her head, her voice a little sad. "That sounds lonely."
He shrugged, staring off into the distance. "Maybe it is. Sometimes I try to remember when I was a baby—what life was like before this—but… it's all blank."
For a while, they both said nothing. The silence between them wasn't heavy—just quiet, like the world was listening.
Down below, the people were moving again. Men carried timber and tools, some rebuilding fences while others lifted stones for the foundation of new homes. Women passed buckets of water, and children helped pick up small sticks and pieces. The once-empty fields slowly began to look alive again.
Mira leaned against the balustrade, eyes soft. "I guess they're rebuilding the village," she whispered. "Even the people who got sad before are working again."
Nathan nodded. "Yeah… they're trying to make everything normal again."
"Do you think they'll finish soon?" she asked.
He smiled gently. "Maybe not soon. But they will."
The warm afternoon light started to soften, the sun dipping lower and painting the rooftops gold. Aerois chirped softly, resting his wings, while Grey twitched his nose and yawned.
Mira smiled faintly. "Grey's sleepy already."
Nathan chuckled quietly. "He always gets sleepy when it's almost night."
They both stayed there, shoulders brushing slightly, watching the people below—listening to the faint sounds of hammers, voices, and the rustling wind.
"I hope everyone down there smiles again soon," Mira whispered.
Nathan nodded slowly. "They will. And maybe… we will too."
Her eyes turned toward him, gentle and warm. "We already are," she said, smiling a little.
He looked at her and smiled back.
And for that moment—watching their world rebuild under the fading sun—two children, both carrying small pieces of loss, found a little peace in just standing side by side.
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Nathan leaned his arms on the balustrade, eyes still following the people below. After a moment, he turned to her again.
"So…" he asked softly, "is there a friend of yours here in the kingdom?"
Mira froze for a second. Her lips parted like she wanted to answer right away—but no sound came. She looked down at her hands resting on the balustrade.
"…No," she said quietly. "Maybe… only you."
Her voice was small but honest.
Nathan blinked, a little surprised. "Me?"
She nodded slowly. "You're the only one who talks to me like this. Everyone else just says hello and leaves."
Nathan smiled faintly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess that means we're friends then."
Mira looked up at him, her eyes softening. "I guess we are."
She sighed, her breath mixing with the afternoon breeze. "It feels nice though… having a friend again."
Nathan's smile grew a little warmer. "Then don't lose me, okay?"
Mira giggled lightly. "Only if you promise not to scare me again."
"Deal," he said, holding out his pinky.
She blinked at it, then wrapped her smaller pinky around his. "Promise."
The sound of hammering below faded for a moment, replaced by the rustling of the wind. Aerois shifted on Grey's head, feathers fluffing against the soft light.
Mira rested her chin on her arms at the balustrade, gazing out at the half-rebuilt village. "Maybe one day… everyone will smile again. Just like before."
Nathan rested his arms on the balustrade and looked out with her. "Yeah," he said softly. "And maybe we'll still be here when they do."
While Grey looked sleepy on the chair beside Nathan, with Aerois perched comfortably on his head, and both were looking out.
Their voices faded into the quiet afternoon, two small figures standing side by side under the gentle glow of the lowering sun—two friends who finally found warmth in a world that was learning to heal again.
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The night air brushed gently against their faces as they stepped out to the balcony. The lamps across the kingdom shimmered like fallen stars below them. Mira placed her small backpack on Nathan's bed before walking over to the balustrade.
Grey hopped up to a chair nearby, sitting neatly on the polished stone balustrade, while Aerois perched right on his head. The sight made Mira smile faintly, though the silence between her and Nathan soon grew heavier.
Nathan rested his arms on the balustrade, watching the distant lights. "Hey, Mira," he began quietly. "Earlier, when Mother was talking… did you understand what she meant? About the bloodline thing?"
Mira blinked, turning to him. "Not really," she admitted. "She said it's something passed down… but I didn't get why it sounded so serious."
Nathan nodded slowly. "Yeah. She doesn't like talking about it much. I think it's… something to do with who we're related to. Like, family stuff from a long time ago."
Mira tilted her head. "Is it bad?"
He hesitated. "I don't know," he said honestly. "But sometimes, when she looks at me… it feels like she's thinking of something she won't tell me."
Mira looked at him quietly. "Maybe she's just scared you'll worry."
"Maybe," Nathan said. "But it makes me wonder… what if there's something wrong with me?"
Mira frowned softly. "That's silly. You're fine, Nathan."
He gave a small smile. "You think so?"
"I know so," she said simply. "If it's about blood, then maybe it's not something bad. Maybe it's just something big—something people don't understand yet."
Nathan turned to her, watching the faint lantern glow reflect in her eyes. "You talk like you already know things grown-ups don't."
Mira shrugged a little. "My grandpa says sometimes grown-ups hide things because they think we're too young to understand. But… I think we understand more than they think we do."
That made Nathan smile faintly. "Maybe you're right."
The soft wind carried a gentle chill, brushing through their hair. Below them, the kingdom lights swayed like quiet waves. Mira rested her chin on her arms. "Do you ever feel like… there's something waiting for you? Like, something you're supposed to do but don't know what yet?"
Nathan thought for a moment. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I feel that a lot."
"Me too," she said softly. "When I was little, I used to dream about strange places. Like… ruins, or white fields that never end. Grandpa said they're just dreams, but they always feel real."
Nathan glanced at her curiously. "Maybe they mean something."
"Maybe," she replied. "Or maybe it's just my mind remembering something I shouldn't."
For a moment, the two of them fell silent, their thoughts drifting with the wind. Grey adjusted himself on the balustrade, and Aerois spread his wings slightly before settling again.
Nathan spoke after a while, his voice calm. "You know… sometimes I think the 'bloodline' Mother talked about isn't just about power or family. Maybe it's something inside us—something that makes us who we are."
Mira turned to him, a small, thoughtful smile forming. "Then that means your bloodline isn't bad at all. It just means you're special."
Nathan chuckled quietly. "You make it sound easy."
"Because it is," she said lightly, though her tone stayed sincere. "You don't have to know everything yet, Nathan. You just have to be kind and strong. That's already enough."
Nathan looked down at her, his smile softening. "You sound like my mother."
"Then maybe she's right," Mira said gently. "Maybe you really are meant for something."
They both turned back toward the view. The lights below flickered softly across the village streets. The night was calm—just the sound of the wind, the faint hum of people talking below, and the quiet company of two children sharing the kind of conversation that stays in the heart long after words fade.
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Rhea herself joined them soon after, her soft steps echoing faintly as she entered the room. She pulled a chair close to where Nathan and Mira stood by the balcony, her calm presence filling the space with quiet warmth.
"You mentioned the bloodline earlier," Rhea began gently, looking at Mira with a reassuring smile. "It's not something to be afraid of, dear. It simply means a family line — where your traits, strength, or special gifts might come from."
Mira listened intently, her small hands resting on her lap. "So… it's like what you get from your parents?"
"Exactly," Rhea said, pleased by her understanding. "But some bloodlines hold more than just appearance or skill. Some carry responsibility — the kind that connects to history itself."
Nathan tilted his head. "Like ours?"
Rhea smiled faintly but didn't answer directly. "That's something you'll learn when you're ready." She patted his shoulder gently, then stood. "It's getting late. Don't stay up too long, alright?"
After a few kind words, she excused herself and quietly left the room. The moment the door clicked shut, a drowsy voice broke the silence.
"Finally," Grey muttered, stretching his tiny limbs.
Mira blinked. Her head snapped toward the bed — Grey was sitting up straight, eyes open and mouth moving.
"D-Did… you just talk?" she gasped, her eyes wide.
Grey tilted his head, pretending to think. "No, that must've been the wind whispering in perfect sentences."
Nathan smirked. "So you can talk, huh? Now you're talking—just so she wouldn't know?"
"I could always talk," Grey said smugly, brushing his paw over his ear. "I was just letting you humans have your moment."
Mira leaned closer, still half in disbelief. "Since when can bunnies talk?"
"Since forever — you just haven't been listening," Grey replied with a grin. Then his tone shifted, calm but firm. "Anyway, fun aside… we need to start talking about what really matters."
Nathan blinked. "What do you mean?"
Grey hopped closer to the edge of the bed, his bright eyes reflecting the lantern light. "The 200W Tournament."
Mira frowned, puzzled. "What's that?"
"It's a test," Grey said, his voice lowering. "One for the young — warriors in training, heirs, and anyone who wants to prove their heart's strength. It's more than just a contest. It's… the first step to who you'll become."
Nathan's eyes widened a little. "So it's not just fighting?"
Grey shook his head. "No. It's about endurance, courage — and understanding what you're willing to protect."
Mira looked uncertain. "But… we're only nine."
Grey smirked. "That's how it starts. Every great warrior began smaller than their sword."
Nathan smiled faintly. "Then we should train."
Mira hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah… we can do it together."
A few minutes later, Rhea returned, holding a folded blanket in her arms. The moment she stepped in, Grey froze — his eyes darted toward her, then he dropped flat on the bed, pretending to sleep.
Nathan tried not to laugh.
Rhea raised a brow but said nothing. "Still awake?"
"Uh… yeah," Nathan said, scratching his neck. "We were just… talking."
"I see," Rhea said softly, placing the blanket on her arm. Then she turned to Mira. "Mira, dear, why don't you sleep in my room tonight? It's warmer there."
Mira blinked, a little surprised. "Are you sure?"
Rhea smiled kindly. "Of course. It's been a long day — you need proper rest, you too Nathan."
"Alright," Mira said shyly, standing up. She gave Nathan a small wave. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," Nathan replied with a grin.
As Mira turned toward the door, the soft hum of the night was suddenly broken by the deep, echoing call of a horn.
It came from the lower square — one long note that rippled through the air like a summons.
Rhea paused mid-step, her expression changing. "That horn…" she murmured.
Nathan turned to the balcony doors, brows furrowing. "What's going on?"
Another horn followed, louder this time, and then a distant voice shouted from below.
"Attention, citizens of Atlon! By the command of His Majesty, King Nalon, and the Great Council — all are invited to the night's announcement at the central square!"
Rhea gently set the blanket aside. "Come," she said softly, though there was a hint of urgency in her tone. "Let's take a look."
They walked through the short hall connected to Nathan's room, the flickering torchlight painting golden trails across the walls. When they stepped out onto the wide balcony, the view unfolded beneath them — the castle's lower grounds, alive with movement and light.
Torches burned bright across the large square. People were gathering from every direction — villagers still in their dining clothes, guards leaving their posts, children sitting on their parents' shoulders. The air vibrated with murmurs of curiosity and excitement.
Grey hopped up onto the balustrade beside Nathan, ears twitching. "Looks like the night's just getting started."
Aerois, already standing near the far end, crossed his arms. "Something important… they wouldn't call this many at once."
Down below, a rhythmic sound echoed — the steady clank of armor. Lines of soldiers marched toward the stage, their movements sharp and synchronized. At the front of the procession, a tall man carried a large flag trimmed with silver threads — Tomas, leader of Squad One.
Nathan's eyes brightened slightly. "That's Sir Tomas," he said under his breath.
Mira leaned over the balustrade beside him. "He looks strong…"
As Tomas reached the stage, he raised the flag high. The flamelight caught the symbol of Atlon — a winged sword over a mountain crest — and shimmered brilliantly. With a proud motion, Tomas drove the flagstaff into a square wooden base with a heavy thud. The sound echoed through the entire square, drawing cheers from the crowd.
Then, from the stairs beside the platform, Commander Galen appeared — his broad form casting a long shadow against the torchlight. He stood firm at the center, his voice booming over the restless noise.
"People of Atlon! Tonight, we gather not in fear, but in promise!"
The crowd roared, torches swaying like a tide of fire.
Rhea's eyes softened as she watched, resting her hand on the balustrade. "It's been years since they've held one like this," she said quietly.
Nathan looked up at her. "One like what?"
She smiled faintly. "A night of declaration. It means something is about to begin."
On stage, Galen raised his arm. "Our lands have endured trials, but unity remains our greatest strength! As ordered by His Majesty, we now prepare for events that will shape the heart of this kingdom — rebuilding, restoring, and rising together!"
The cheers grew louder. Even from the balcony, Nathan could feel the vibrations in his chest.
Then, the crowd began to hush as King Nalon himself stepped forward. The torchlight reflected off his silver cloak and crown, his presence commanding silence without a word. When he finally spoke, his voice carried through every corner of the square — deep, resolute, and filled with pride.
"Citizens of Atlon!" he declared. "The time has come for renewal — for courage to rise and hearts to prove their worth! As your king, I proclaim the return of our most sacred tradition…"
He lifted his arm high, his expression burning with fierce conviction.
"The Tournament of Two Hundred Warriors!"
The words struck like thunder. The crowd erupted into cheers — wild, electrifying, unstoppable. Flags waved, torches flared higher, and chants of "Atlon! Atlon!" filled the night air.
Nathan clenched his fists, his heart racing. "The 200 Warriors Tournament…" he whispered.
Beside him, Mira's eyes shone with awe. "It's real…"
Rhea smiled softly, her voice calm amidst the uproar. "It's more than real, dear. It's a promise — one that tests the strength of our people and the will of the next generation."
Grey's tail flicked as he muttered under his breath, "And that next generation is already standing here."
Nathan couldn't take his eyes off the square — the flicker of torches, the echo of cheers, the banners rippling in the night wind. Everything seemed to pulse with meaning. For the first time, he didn't just feel like a boy watching from afar. He felt like he was standing at the edge of something greater.
"Mother…" he said softly, still staring down. "The Tournament of Two Hundred… what does it mean for us?"
Rhea looked at him, the firelight from below glinting in her eyes. "It means a chance, Nathan. A chance for new warriors to rise — for courage to be seen." Her gaze softened. "Your father once stood in that very place, years ago, when he was your age."
Nathan turned to her, surprised. "He did?"
She nodded gently. "He didn't win… but he found his path because of it."
Mira listened quietly, her hands clutching the balustrade. "Then maybe…" she murmured, "maybe we can find ours too."
Grey snorted softly. "You're both talking like legends already." But even he couldn't hide the small grin tugging at his mouth.
Nathan smiled faintly, eyes gleaming with quiet resolve. "Then I guess it's settled."
Rhea gave him a look that was both proud and wistful. "The road ahead won't be easy, my son."
"I know," Nathan said, straightening as the wind brushed past him. "But I want to walk it anyway."
Aerois spread his wings lightly behind them, feathers catching the torchlight like silver threads. "Then let the winds remember this night," the falcon said quietly. "For it's the night hearts began to awaken."
The drums continued to thunder below. The flags waved proudly against the glowing sky.
And as the cheers of Atlon carried into the horizon, Nathan felt it — not just excitement, but a promise written deep within his soul.
The promise of who he was meant to become.
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The crowd's roaring chants slowly began to fade as King Nalon lowered his hand. For a moment, only the flickering of torches filled the silence — the air heavy with the echo of his proclamation.
But then, a few voices murmured from below.
"That's all they're announcing?"
"After all that build-up… just the tournament?"
A ripple of smirks and murmurs passed through the people, some crossing their arms, others shrugging in curiosity.
King Nalon's lips curved into a faint smile, as if he expected such a reaction. He stepped forward once more, his voice steady and commanding.
"No… that is not all."
The murmuring stopped. Even the torches seemed to still in their flames.
"This tournament," he said, his gaze sweeping across the countless faces, "is not merely for glory. It is for awakening — for those who rise above will grasp what few have ever touched… the power of Tenaria's heart."
The crowd leaned in, the earlier doubts replaced by a slow, rising wonder.
Rhea's expression softened with solemn knowing. "He's revealing it…" she whispered.
"The heart of our world," Nalon continued, "shaped by the Eight Spirits of Tenaria, bound around the Rhombus Heart. The source of all balance and life."
He raised his arm, and behind him, glowing symbols shimmered across the stage — forming a faint projection of a radiant rhombus surrounded by eight sigils, each pulsing in a different hue.
"Knights, Mages, Assassins, Brawlers, Gladiators, Summoners, Rangers, and Aquari."
Each name echoed like thunder as their symbols flared in turn.
"These are not merely titles, they are the eight paths of strength, the essence of Tenaria's spirits. And for centuries, their blessings have slept… waiting for those worthy to awaken them once more."
Gasps rippled through the square. People exchanged glances — excitement and fear mixing in their eyes.
Down below, an older villager muttered, "The old stories… they're true?"
A younger man clenched his fist. "Then I'll enter. I'll fight for the spirits themselves!"
Nalon's expression darkened, his tone deepening like rolling thunder.
"But know this, the Rhombus Heart suffers. The darkness of Tenebrous, the underworld's plague, spreads once more across our lands. Its shadows devour what remains of balance. Countless lives fall each passing month… and if we do not rise — Tenaria will fall."
The torches flickered violently as if in answer. A gust of wind swept through the square, carrying the weight of his words.
Nathan's breath caught. "Tenebrous…?"
Rhea nodded slowly. "The corruption below our world. Few ever speak its name now."
Nalon lifted his sword, the silver gleam burning bright.
"Our ancestors — the Arcanes — once made this very tournament to prepare hearts and souls for war against the abyss. And now, that same fire must return. Through this, we shall find those who can awaken the Eight Spirits and restore our world's balance!"
The cheers that followed were no longer casual — they were fierce, desperate, alive.
People raised their arms, chanting louder than before. "For Tenaria! For the Rhombus Heart!"
Nathan stood frozen, his chest pounding. He watched the flags fluttering below, the people's faces glowing with hope and fear. The words Arcanes, Tenaria, Eight Spirits — they all swirled inside him like pieces of a forgotten truth.
Mira's eyes gleamed, her voice barely a whisper. "Eight paths… could we… awaken one of them someday?"
Nathan didn't answer at first. His eyes locked on the king's glowing sigils below.
"I don't know," he said quietly. "But… I want to find out."
Beside him, Rhea turned her gaze toward the horizon — where the torches reached the edge of darkness. "Then listen to your heart, Nathan," she said softly. "For that's where the spirits awaken first."
The drums thundered again, echoing through the night — not of celebration, but of beginnings.
And as the people cheered once more, Nathan felt that same stirring inside him grow stronger — something vast and ancient calling from within the light and shadow of Tenaria itself.
The echoes of the drums faded slowly into the night, leaving behind only the sound of cheers and torches crackling in the wind. The crowd below began to stir — some still shouting King Nalon's name, others murmuring in awe.
"That's it? That's what they've been preparing for?" one man said, half-smirking.
But another replied, his voice firm, "If it's true — if the Eight Spirits can be awakened — then this changes everything."
Soon, the murmurs shifted to excitement. Soldiers discussed strategies, young men vowed to train harder, and even the elders stood with quiet pride. The air carried both fear and hope — the kind that only comes before something great begins.
On the balcony, Rhea watched it all with a faint smile. "They needed this," she murmured. "Something to believe in again."
Nathan's eyes never left the stage below, where King Nalon and Commander Galen stood tall beneath the banners of Atlon. "The Tournament of Two Hundred…" he whispered. "And those Eight Spirits…"
Mira leaned against the balustrade, her hair fluttering slightly in the cool wind. "It sounds… incredible," she said softly. "To fight not just for a title, but for Tenaria itself."
Nathan nodded. "I didn't think something like that still existed."
Grey stretched lazily beside them. "Ughhh. Sounds like a fancy excuse to get people swinging swords again," he muttered, but even he couldn't hide the spark of interest in his tone.
Aerois glanced over, his voice calm yet sharp. "Don't mock it, Grey. The Eight Spirits were real once, remember? If this is their call, it's not just a tournament… it's a warning."
The group fell silent for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. Below them, the last of the soldiers began to march away, torches dimming as the square slowly emptied. The rhythmic sound of armor faded into the night until only the gentle hum of the wind remained.
Nathan turned to Rhea. "Do you think it's possible… to awaken those powers?"
Rhea met his gaze with quiet wisdom. "Power only reveals itself to hearts that understand their purpose," she said softly. "It's not about wanting strength, Nathan… it's about how you seek it."
He lowered his eyes, thinking of his father's words, his training, and the faces of those who had sacrificed for peace. "Then I'll find my reason," he said quietly.
Rhea smiled, her expression both proud and gentle. "And when you do, the spirits will hear you."
Mira looked at him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe… we'll both find ours someday."
Nathan glanced at her, and for a brief moment, the torchlight reflected in their eyes — bright, unwavering, and full of quiet determination.
Rhea turned toward the hall. "Come. The night is long, and tomorrow will be busy."
As they walked back, Nathan took one last look at the vast square below — the flags still standing, the torches glowing faintly like stars scattered across the earth.
Something deep within him stirred again, stronger this time. Not fear. Not even excitement.
But purpose — steady and burning.
The kind that only begins when destiny whispers your name.
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.
The roars of the crowd still echoed when King Nalon raised his arm once more, signaling silence. The sound faded like a tide withdrawing from shore. Every torch flickered, every gaze fixed on him.
His eyes swept over the thousands gathered below — the villagers, the soldiers, the children clinging to their parents' hands. When he spoke again, his voice was calm but heavy, each word cutting through the night air.
"Some of you may wonder," Nalon began, "where this great tournament shall be held. A place worthy of the warriors, of our people's spirit."
A brief pause followed, and then his gaze turned north — toward the dark horizon, where faint smoke still lingered under the stars.
"That place," he said, his tone deepening, "is none other than the land that once burned."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The burned village — everyone knew of it. The tragedy that took lives, homes, and hope.
Nalon's hand clenched at his side. "The ashes that once reminded us of loss… will now rise as a symbol of strength. That ground, blackened by flame, shall be reborn — as our Great Arena!"
The square erupted in gasps — then in cheers, wild and powerful. The people shouted until their voices cracked, torches waving high in the air.
Rhea stood silently, her expression mixed with awe and worry. Nathan and Mira leaned over the balustrade, the glow of the torches reflecting in their wide eyes.
"An arena…" Mira whispered. "Built from where the fire was…"
Nathan's heartbeat pounded in his chest. He could feel the determination in Nalon's words reaching even up to the balcony — it felt alive, raw, like the spirit of the kingdom itself.
Down below, King Nalon's voice thundered once more, stronger than before.
"This tournament is not for glory — nor for the pride of Atlon alone! It is for Tenaria — for the balance of our world! The hearts of men have grown restless, and Tenebrous spreads its shadow across our lands. But through this trial, the chosen shall rise — those who carry the courage to awaken the Eight Spirits and defend the Rhombus Heart!"
The crowd roared again, voices uniting like a storm. Some clenched their fists in resolve, some wept with renewed faith — and others simply looked on in awe.
Nalon raised his sword toward the sky, the steel glinting under the torchlight. "And know this! Those who stand victorious in the Arena of Rebirth shall not only defend Atlon — they will fight beyond our borders, across kingdoms, to drive Tenebrous back into the depths!"
The last words hit like lightning.
The crowd shouted until the night itself trembled.
Rhea's voice was soft beside Nathan. "That's your father's spirit," she said, her eyes glimmering with both pride and unease. "He turns pain into purpose."
Nathan clenched again his fists, his breath catching in his chest. The king's words burned inside him — the idea of fighting not for fame, but for the world itself.
Mira's hands were clasped together, her gaze fixed on the distant smoke rising from the burned land. "To fight… for everyone…" she whispered.
King Nalon lowered his sword, his final words cutting through the roar like a blade through wind.
"This is our vow — Atlon shall not fall to darkness. From ash, we rise."
The torches flared brighter, banners whipped in the wind, and the crowd's chant carried through the night.
"For Atlon! For Tenaria!"
The kingdom burned with spirit once more — not in flame, but in unity.
And as the cheers rose toward the stars, Nathan stood in silence beside Mira and Rhea, the world around him fading — leaving only one thought echoing in his mind:
"From fall, we rise…"
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As the crowd's chants began to fade, King Nalon slowly lowered his sword, his voice calm but firm — carrying the weight of command.
"People of Atlon," he said, the firelight gleaming against his armor, "tonight's promise marks not an end — but a beginning. What awaits us will test our faith, our courage, and our unity as one kingdom under Tenaria's heart."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the sea of faces.
"Go home with pride in your hearts. Train your bodies, sharpen your spirits, and remember — the future of our world begins with those who dare to rise."
Commander Galen stepped forward and saluted sharply. "Long live Atlon!" he shouted.
The crowd roared in return:
"Long live the King! Long live Atlon!"
The horns sounded again — a long, echoing note that filled the square as soldiers raised their weapons in synchronized salute. The firelight shimmered like stars as the night's ceremony drew to a close.
Nalon gave a single nod, stepping back as the banners waved behind him. "For honor, for unity, and for Tenaria's light — this gathering is now ended."
Then he turned and descended the stage, the royal guards following as the people bowed and murmured prayers of hope.
Above, on the balcony, Nathan, Mira, and Rhea remained still — watching as the torches below dimmed, leaving only the soft glow of embers and the sound of drums fading into the distance.
Grey finally broke the silence, his voice quiet but sure, meant only for Nathan to hear. "That's not just an announcement," he said. "That was a call… for every soul in this kingdom."
Rhea looked down at the square, her tone solemn. "Soon, it will begin."
Nathan clenched his fist slightly, feeling that spark deep in his chest — the same one that stirred when the horns first sounded.
"For Tenaria's light…" he repeated under his breath.
And the night ended — not in silence, but in the quiet fire of purpose.
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.
The echoes of the crowd's cheers slowly faded, replaced by the soft hum of torches and the whisper of the night breeze brushing against the castle walls. From the balcony, the square below began to empty, though a faint glow still lingered where the fires burned low.
Mira leaned against the balustrade, her small hands gripping it tightly. "It felt… different," she whispered. "Like the whole world's waiting for something."
Nathan nodded slowly, still staring at the stage where King Nalon had stood moments ago. "It's like he was talking to everyone… but somehow, it felt like he was talking to me."
Rhea smiled softly at his words, the torchlight reflecting in her calm eyes. "That's what a true king does, Nathan. He doesn't just speak to the crowd — he reaches the hearts that are meant to hear."
She turned toward them, her voice gentle but steady. "You've both seen enough for tonight. Rest — the morning will bring new movement, and I'm certain the whole kingdom will awaken with the same fire."
Mira looked up, blinking sleepily. "Do you think… one day, I could join too?"
Rhea brushed a hand over the girl's hair. "One day, perhaps. But for now, you must keep that dream safe — and rest, so it can grow stronger by morning."
Mira nodded slowly. "Alright…" she murmured, rubbing her eyes.
Rhea turned to Nathan next. "You too, dear. Your thoughts are loud enough that even the stars might hear them tonight," she said with a faint smile.
Nathan chuckled quietly. "I just can't stop thinking about it, Mother. The tournament… the world's heart… everything."
"I know," Rhea said softly, placing her hand on his shoulder. "But even the strongest hearts need rest before the dawn. Tomorrow will come fast."
Grey stretched lazily on the balustrade, yawning. "Yeah, listen to her, boy. You'll need your strength and I'm not carrying you if you faint in training." He muttered to him.
Aerois gave a quiet scoff from the edge of the balcony. "You couldn't carry him even if you tried."
Grey twitched his ear. "Details."
Rhea chuckled softly at their banter, the warmth in her tone easing the heavy air. "Come now, Mira." She offered her hand. "Let's head to my room. You'll rest better there."
"Goodnight, Nathan," Mira said, her voice small but sincere. She turned to Grey. "You too, Grey." She patted his head as if to wish him goodnight.
"Goodnight..." Nathan replied with a gentle nod.
Rhea gave Nathan one last look, her voice carrying that familiar motherly calm. "Sleep well, my son. The morning will hold its own surprises."
As they walked away, the hall lamps flickered softly, casting long shadows behind them. Nathan remained at the balcony for a few more seconds, gazing at the quiet square below — the remnants of firelight dancing in the dark.
Then, with a deep breath, he whispered to himself,
"Tomorrow… begins everything."
He turned, closing the balcony doors behind him as the night finally embraced the castle in silence.
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Rhea gently led Mira into her room. The quiet corridor glowed with soft lantern light, and the evening breeze drifted faintly through the balcony curtains. Mira followed slowly, her steps small and uncertain.
"You can sleep here tonight," Rhea said warmly, fixing the blanket on the bed. "It's quieter than the guest rooms."
Mira looked around shyly, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. "It's really nice here…" she murmured, almost afraid to touch anything.
Rhea smiled softly. "Don't worry, dear. It's only a room — just make yourself comfortable."
The girl gave a small nod, climbing carefully onto the edge of the bed. Silence lingered for a moment. The faint sound of wind outside filled the gap between them.
Then, softly, Mira's voice broke the silence.
"Queen Rhea… can I ask something?"
"Of course," Rhea said, taking a seat beside her, her tone gentle and patient.
Mira's gaze shifted to the ceiling, her voice trembling slightly. "Do you think… I'll ever be strong like Nathan?"
Rhea smiled kindly. "Strength isn't only in battle or power, Mira. Sometimes it's in how you hold on — how you keep believing, even when things hurt."
Mira turned her head slightly, eyes glimmering in the soft light. "You sound like my mother…" she whispered, almost to herself.
Rhea's breath caught for a moment. "Your mother?" she repeated softly.
Mira hesitated, her fingers tightening around the blanket. "She used to say things like that… before she got sick." Her voice faltered, and she looked down at her lap. "She always told me not to cry too long — to keep smiling for her. But one day… she just didn't wake up."
Rhea's chest ached. She stayed quiet for a moment, letting the silence speak for her sympathy. Then she gently reached out, resting a hand over Mira's small one. "She must've been very kind."
Mira nodded faintly, her voice barely above a whisper. "She was. And my father… he tried to take care of me after that. But he got hurt in his arm during a fight. Grandpa said he went to Aurelia Kingdom with my uncle… for treatment."
Her eyes softened with a mix of sadness and strength. "He said he'd come back when he's healed. I still believe that."
Rhea's heart melted at the quiet conviction in the child's tone. "I believe he will too," she said gently. "Fathers always find their way back — especially when they have someone waiting for them."
Mira gave a small, fragile smile. "Do you really think so?"
"I do," Rhea said softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind the girl's ear. "And when he returns, he'll see how strong you've become."
Mira's eyes glistened under the soft glow of the lantern. "I hope so…" she murmured, before pulling the blanket up to her chin. "Thank you, Queen Rhea."
"You're welcome, dear," Rhea said kindly. "And when it's just the two of us, you can call me Rhea."
Mira smiled faintly, her voice sleepy. "Okay… Rhea."
Rhea chuckled softly, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders. "Goodnight, Mira. Rest well."
"Goodnight," Mira whispered, her voice fading as her eyes slowly closed.
Rhea watched her for a moment — the peaceful look on her small face, the soft rise and fall of her breathing. She brushed her hand gently through Mira's hair, her thoughts quiet but tender.
"Your mother would be proud of you," she whispered before blowing out the lantern.
The room fell into a calm silver glow from the moonlight. The queen lingered for a moment longer by the window, gazing out toward the night sky — the faint stars above Aurelia Kingdom glimmering in the distance, as if echoing the girl's unspoken hope.
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Outside, the wind whispered against the castle walls. In Nathan's room, Grey cracked open one eye. "Looks like tomorrow's going to be fun," he muttered.
Nathan chuckled quietly. "Better rest then."
Grey yawned. "Goodnight, warrior."
The night settled over the castle — quiet, calm, and full of promise for what awaited beyond dawn.