Every challenge, every drop of blood and tear, transformed into a torrent of memories rushing backward in the mind.
*Clatter, clatter.*
The sound of the horse-drawn carriage's wheels echoed steadily, as if striking each beat upon the polished stone road, carrying Alwen and Ronan closer to the heart of the kingdom.
Alwen, alongside Ronan, glanced out at their surroundings.
This place was truly magnificent.
Shops sprouted like mushrooms after rain, houses painted in shimmering earthen yellow gleamed under the sunlight, reflecting a warm, almost blinding glow. Adults and children alike wore vibrant, colorful clothing, blending with the ceaseless chatter and laughter. Above, the clear chirping of birds echoed, gentle breezes carrying the faint scent of fresh flowers, all painting a vivid scene before Alwen's eyes.
…So beautiful that it made him forget he was sitting in this carriage.
At that moment, a sudden ray of sunlight pierced through the red velvet curtain, striking his eyes.
"Kh–!"
Alwen flinched, quickly raising a hand to shield himself, snapping out of his brief reverie. His eyes squinted against the light, but in that instant, he realized something.
His hand tightened slightly.
In his heart… a resolve was kindled, one from which there was no turning back.
His gaze slowly shifted to the shadowy figure opposite him. Ronan was watching him, his eyes wild with exhaustion from sleepless nights.
Neither spoke, but both seemed to understand the unspoken words they wished to convey.
"Grrrr… screeeech…"
The harsh, grating sound of the carriage announced their destination was near.
"Your Highness, we have arrived at the palace," the driver's low voice rang out, cold yet maintaining the minimum respect due to a prince.
Ronan narrowed his eyes at the driver's tone.
"Come on, let's go!"
Alwen urged Ronan, and together they stepped down from the carriage.
Before them loomed the colossal palace gates, as if challenging every gaze. Two intricately carved dragon pillars rose skyward, their sharp heads poised like predators lying in wait. The jet-black iron gates exuded an air of majesty, reflecting the pale golden sunlight of early morning.
Flanking the pathway were bronze statues of knights, spears held upright, their eyes fixed on the infinite, making passersby hold their breath. In the distance, towering walls of cold gray stone, each brick etched with intricate patterns, gave the impression that every piece held its own story.
Above, royal banners fluttered in the breeze, bearing the kingdom's crest. The scent of greenery from the royal gardens wafted faintly, adding a touch of life to the solemn atmosphere. Alwen took a deep breath, feeling the power and authority emanating from the gates, as if crossing them meant stepping into an entirely different world—one reserved for the brave and the worthy.
"After years of wandering… I'm finally back… but why does my heart feel so heavy?"
Alwen's murmured words were clear yet tinged with hesitation, like a gentle stream breaking against cold stone, yearning to pour out its emotions yet reluctant to return to its source.
"Calm down, Your Highness!"
Ronan's indifferent tone cut through Alwen's hesitation.
*Clank… BOOM!*
The massive gates creaked open ominously, each groan like a heavy heartbeat stirring the silent space around Alwen. A gust from within rushed out, carrying the scent of flowers and cold stone, beckoning him forward… yet reminding him of the years gone by.
Beyond the gates stood two knights in gleaming armor, rigid as living statues. Their helmets reflected the sunlight, intricate engravings exuding both majesty and coldness. Holding swords upright, tips touching the ground, they created a steady rhythm, like the heartbeat of the palace itself.
Despite their stern demeanor, their eyes betrayed respect and vigilance.
The two knights spoke in unison:
"Your Highness, please proceed to the grand hall. Everything is prepared to welcome you."
Though nervous, Alwen quickly stepped forward.
Ronan, however, was stopped by a knight before he could follow.
But Alwen swiftly explained, and together they entered the palace.
The interior was an overwhelming expanse of the grand hall. The ceiling soared high, adorned with intricate golden moldings that curved like dragons in flight. Light from countless crystal chandeliers cascaded down, glinting off the white marble floor, creating dancing flecks of light with every step Alwen took.
Lining the corridor were vibrant stone columns etched with patterns, stretching to the ceiling, interspersed with bronze statues of nobles whose eyes followed every movement. The scent of polished wood and burning candles filled the air, mingling with the faint echo of Alwen's footsteps, creating an atmosphere both majestic and serene.
The two walked down the corridor, the *tap… tap* of their steps echoing steadily in the vast, lonely space.
Alwen's face was expressionless, as if lost in deep thought.
Seeing this, Ronan suddenly slapped him on the back with a loud *thwack*, startling Alwen so much it seemed his soul nearly fled his body.
"Why so tense?!"
"Uh… it's nothing, just some small issues on my mind."
"Whatever the issue, you'll have to face it, Your Highness!"
"Don't brood like that."
At those words, Alwen seemed to relax slightly, responding curtly:
"Yeah."
And so, the two continued down the empty corridor, walking toward their shared goal.
Suddenly, Ronan's eyes caught a statue on the left side of the hall.
It depicted a father and son, carved from obsidian, standing three meters tall, majestic in intricately detailed cloaks. The king held aloft a red quartz torch, its light glinting like real flame. At his feet, a young man knelt, embracing the fire, his amber eyes burning with resolve, a single pearl-like tear rolling down his cheek. The pedestal bore a faint inscription: *"Fire forges the crown."*
For a moment, Ronan froze, his eyes wavering as if recalling something. A nearby knight, in a low, almost muttering voice, said, "The king once said, only those who overcome fire are worthy of the throne."
"Ronan, hurry up!" Alwen called, his voice slightly urgent.
Ronan snapped out of it, his gaze leaving the statue as he quickly followed Alwen, though the knight's words lingered in his mind.
◇
The massive door stood like an impregnable shield, towering before Alwen like an unscalable mountain.
Alwen placed a hand on the door, lost in thought, then let out a long sigh, "Haizzzz."
He turned to Ronan, who simply raised a thumbs-up—a small gesture, but his fiery eyes made it a vow without words.
Alwen gave a slight nod, then turned back and slowly pushed the colossal door.
The door groaned heavily as it opened, light flooding out from the grand hall, enveloping Alwen. His heart pounded, sweat beaded on his forehead, but his steps did not falter.
Inside, the throne loomed atop a high dais. The king sat there—his imposing figure clad in a black-and-red cloak, his gaze like a blade piercing through to the soul. Flanking him were rows of nobles and ministers, all watching Alwen. Their eyes were cold, skeptical, disdainful, like needles pricking his skin.
Alwen took a deep breath, then dropped to his knees with force, his head bowing low to the marble floor. His voice rang out, trembling yet resolute:
"Father… I, Alwen, have returned."
The hall fell silent. Only the *thud-thud* of his heartbeat echoed. Then, suddenly—
*BOOM!!!*
The king's massive spear slammed into the ground. The sound thundered like lightning, the floor trembling, dust swirling in the air. A terrifying pressure erupted, bearing down on Alwen until his arms shook and his knees felt ready to shatter.
"You… dare return in this state?"
The king's words struck like a hammer to Alwen's heart.
"You abandoned your royal blood!" the king's voice boomed, heavy enough to crush the air itself.
"You cast aside the throne, lived in filth, and let noble blood be tainted by dirt!"
"You shed blood for unworthy causes, defiling this lineage!"
"You wandered like a homeless vagrant, letting the world mock the honor of our kingdom!"
He stood abruptly, his eyes flashing with fury.
"And worst of all… you traded your flesh and blood for those ragged commoners! A prince… kneeling before the suffering of the lowly?!"
Murmurs erupted throughout the hall.
"Such disgrace…!"
"A stain on the royal bloodline."
"A shameful fool… why return?"
"A prince, stooping for peasants?"
"He doesn't belong here…"
"Laughable… like some cheap performance…"
The whispers were like spears, relentlessly piercing Alwen's flesh.
His shoulders trembled. His chest felt ready to burst. But in his suppressed gaze, a spark suddenly flared. He slammed his hands against the floor, *thud!*, and stood upright!
"ENOUGH!!!"
His shout echoed, so powerful it silenced every murmur. The air seemed to tear apart, his breath catching in his throat.
Alwen locked eyes with his father, his gaze blazing.
"You ask why I left? Let me answer! Since I was a child, I've seen children starve, mothers weep beside their dead. I've embraced failure and taught myself to rise. My honor lies in protecting those no one else defends."
His voice grew steadier with every word, each like a stone hurled into the silence.
His tone softened, heavy with memories.
"I lived among them, heard their cries, saw the depths of pain this kingdom ignores. I fell, I bled, I stood again… and I learned that a prince's worth isn't in a throne… but in daring to shield those no one else will."
He clenched his fists, his chest heaving.
"Every plea from the suffering, every faint cry of despair from those reduced to skin and bone, every tiny hand of innocent children who've never known joy—they tore my heart into a thousand pieces!"
He had witnessed too much.
Since the day he left the palace with his resolve, he had pressed forward despite opposition, walking alongside Ronan, toiling with his hands, shedding blood against dangerous beasts to protect those people, sowing the first seeds of hope for those teetering on the edge of death.
He remembered:
The acrid smell of smoke, the crackling of flames devouring a village he had fought to protect, screams rising and fading.
Or that moment—the sobbing and the innocent words of Alice, "Mommy…" She was just a child, a child who hadn't yet tasted life's beauty, lying mere millimeters from death's gate. Though Ronan saved her, in that scene, Alwen could do nothing.
He, too, lay before the jaws of a ravenous wolf, utterly helpless against her cries.
That sense of powerlessness, the feeling of watching without being able to reach out and save them, had etched itself deeply into his soul, giving him the strength to stand here now.
"I endured blows, stabs, the brutality of beasts, and the indifference of men. But I didn't retreat, didn't sully myself, didn't need wealth, and cast aside royal honor to grow stronger each day, ceaselessly learning, only to stand for the weak, to ensure no more cries echo in despair!!"
Alwen raised his head high, meeting his father's eyes, as if banishing all fear from his being.
"If I must sacrifice everything to protect them, I will! This is the path I chose, the honor I carry…"
His words faltered, his throat seemingly too strained to continue.
*Inhale… exhale…*
He took a deep breath, his darkened eyes lifting to meet his father's.
He roared:
"MY HONOR IS RISING FROM THE ASHES OF THOSE FORGOTTEN!"
His bellow was like a lion fully awakened, fearless of anything in this world.
Silence blanketed the room. Those who had scorned him now stared, some in shock, others in terror.
The entire hall froze, stunned by Alwen's commanding words.
As if, as long as he lived, he would pursue his goal no matter the risks.
The king fell silent, his eyes glinting with something complex. His hand trembled slightly, restraining emotions that could erupt at any moment. If his earlier reprimands were sharp daggers, this silence was a death sentence unspoken.
The onlookers were suffocated by the overwhelming pressure.
Though Alwen had anticipated this, the weight made his body tremble uncontrollably.
Yet he stood firm, unwavering.
The king's eyes flickered with complexity, as if a tremor stirred within those dark depths.
A strange light appeared in his black pupils, like a star struggling to pierce through cold clouds to illuminate those seeking their path.
Alwen bowed his head low, bracing for the worst.
Suddenly, the king burst into laughter!
"HAHAHAHA!!! Finally, you've spoken the words I've waited so long to hear!"
The king lowered his spear, his voice brimming with authority yet laced with pride.
His hand repeatedly struck the armrest in excitement!
"Alwen… you haven't disappointed me. You've surpassed even your brother! For years, I've awaited this moment… the day you'd stand before the kingdom and declare your path!"
The room erupted in stunned murmurs.
"What's going on???"
"What does the king mean??"
"Why is he praising a disgrace like him?"
"What's happening here?"
Even Alwen, bewildered, blurted out:
"Huh? What's this all about???"
"Could he… really not be useless?!"
The king raised his hand, his voice thundering like lightning.
His tone softened, and he gave a faint smile.
"Your brother was a rare genius, seemingly the perfect man to lead this kingdom. He was once my greatest hope, my pride."
The room seemed to grow somber at those words.
The king's voice lowered further, tinged with disappointment.
"But he was just a boy chasing wealth and glory, lacking ambition, arrogant, cowardly, ready to flee at the first sign of fear. He was utterly unfit to lead this vast nation."
"But you are different. Though you were a frail, weak child who could collapse from tripping over a branch…"
"You are the one who rises after every fall, filled with determination to go further, a kind, diligent child with a brave heart, ready to sacrifice for anyone."
"Since the day you left, I've longed for this moment—the day you'd prove to the world that your choice was right!"
"And so!"
"This throne… will be yours. You are my pride, the one who will lead all the people of this kingdom!"
"AND YOU, ALWEN, WILL BE THE FUTURE OF THIS ENTIRE KINGDOM!!!"
Alwen stood frozen, eyes wide. He couldn't believe what his father had said, but he placed a trembling hand on his chest and struck it firmly!
"I swear, Father! I will never betray this trust!"
The king nodded, his fiery gaze softened by a rare gentleness.
"Go. Show the people… their true heir."
"Show them who truly deserves this."
Alwen knelt one final time, his voice choked with emotion.
"I thank you, Father…"
Then he turned and walked forward. The doors slowly opened, radiant light flooding in, welcoming him to a vibrant future forged by his own blood and bone.
(To be continued)