A kingdom between us

"You come unannounced," Balthazar said, stepping forward to intercept him before he reached the throne. "You barge into this palace like a conqueror instead of a servant. State your business."

The messenger halted, standing unnervingly tall. His cloak shimmered with ancient runes, and his eyes, clouded with divine sight, bore into the advisor with something akin to amusement. Then, with a voice that carried across the chamber like a rolling storm, he spoke.

"You are just a man," he said, each word precise, deliberate. "A slave to your master's will. I am the eyes of the magical kingdom, the messenger of the ruler of principalities. Men do not sit where I stand."

A stunned silence fell over the throne room. Gasps rippled through the nobles, and the guards shifted uncomfortably. No one spoke to Lord Balthazar that way-not without consequence.

The advisor's jaw tightened. "Mind your tongue."

But before the tension could escalate further, a deep voice cut through the silence.

"Enough."

King Aldric's voice carried across the chamber, his tone measured but firm. He sat upon his throne, his black and gold robes flowing like liquid midnight, his expression unreadable. Though his face remained impassive, his piercing gaze assessed the messenger with newfound interest.

The messenger turned toward the king and bowed-not out of submission, but out of recognition. "Your Majesty," he said, "I bring word of the gods."

The air itself seemed to thicken as the court leaned in.

"Speak," the king commanded.

"Men do not sit where I stand, I will state my business seated!" the messenger said and the men were awed at his audacity.

The king signaled one of the guards to get him a seat.

The messenger straightened. "A child has been born. A son unlike any before him. His birth shook the stars, and his name will shape the fate of kingdoms."

A murmur spread through the gathered lords and ladies, but the messenger did not falter. He stepped forward, his voice unwavering. "He will be the most powerful warrior Eldoria has ever known. He will be a storm on the battlefield, a shadow in the night, a force that no man-neither king nor enemy-can withstand."

The king remained silent, his fingers tightening on the armrest of his throne. The others were filled with questions but nobody could utter a word.

"And where is this child?" the king asked at last.

The messenger hesitated. "Born to a commoner."

The reaction was immediate. Disbelief, outrage, whispers of doubt. A child of prophecy, born outside the noble bloodline? It was unheard of.

King Aldric's expression darkened. He despised uncertainty, and now the gods had thrown him into a puzzle with missing pieces. "Find him," he ordered. "Bring him to me." and the gathering was dismissed.

Weeks later, the hunt for the child proved more difficult than anticipated. Every noble house, every influential family, had been scrutinized, yet the boy remained hidden among the nameless masses. A prophecy of such magnitude could not belong to a peasant-yet it did.

For weeks, the royal guard scoured the outer villages, questioning midwives, searching records of births. Days turned to nights, and doubt crept into the minds of even the most faithful.

Until, at last, they found him.

In a small, quiet village beyond the eastern mountains, nestled between the thick woods and rushing rivers, lived a healer named Selene. And in her arms, wrapped in a simple cloth, lay a boy with eyes like molten gold.

When the king's men arrived, Selene did not fight them. She knew from the moment he was born that her son was destined for something greater. But destiny was not always kind.

And so, with a quiet farewell, she watched as they took him away. Her eyes were watered with so many emotions but she couldn't lift a finger or say a word till her child was out of sight.

The boy, Kael, grew up within the grand walls of Eldoria's palace-but he was never truly a part of it.

The nobles whispered when he passed. The sons of lords challenged him, seeking to prove that bloodline mattered more than prophecy. Servants hesitated to meet his gaze, as if afraid his presence alone could shift the tides of fate.

But Kael did not break.

He fought harder than any noble-born warrior. He trained longer, studied more, listened where others scoffed. Every act of cruelty, every moment of isolation, only sharpened his resolve.

They called him an outsider. He became their strongest soldier.

They called him a mistake. He became a legend.

He did not know love, not in the way a child should. The only affection he had ever known came from the blade in his hand, from the silent approval in the king's gaze when he won his first duel.

One fateful evening, as the moon cast its silver glow upon the palace, Kael stood at the edge of the royal balcony, overlooking the vast city of Eldoria. The wind carried the scent of rain, and a strange tension settled in the air.

Behind him, footsteps approached. He turned, expecting to see one of the palace guards.

Instead, he found himself face to face with Lord Balthazar.

The older man regarded him with his usual calculating expression, but tonight, there was something else in his eyes. Something unsettling.

"You have grown strong," Balthazar said, his voice unreadable.

Kael did not respond. He had learned long ago that words meant little in the palace.

Balthazar stepped closer, lowering his voice. "But strength alone is not enough."

Kael's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

A long silence stretched between them before Balthazar finally spoke.

"The king has a plan for you, Kael." A pause. "But so do I."

Kael's body tensed. The weight of those words settled heavily upon him, thick with unspoken meaning.

"What do you want from me?" he asked warily.

Balthazar only smiled.

"Not yet," he murmured. "But soon, you will have to choose."

A gust of wind howled through the balcony, carrying with it the distant toll of the palace bells. Kael felt a cold shiver run down his spine, though he could not yet understand why.

Deep down, something told him-his fate had just taken a turn.

And there would be no turning back.