Eryndral
"Tell me, Ronan, how's the search going?" Kaelion asked as the royal attendant adjusted his cloak, preparing him for the day's court session.
"Unfortunately, it hasn't yielded much, sire," Ronan replied with a hint of frustration.
"And the other kingdoms?"
"Reports suggest they have all successfully found their heroes," Ronan said with a slight bow of his head.
"That leaves only us," Kaelion noted, his voice calm but his gaze distant.
"Yes, sire. With their arrival expected tomorrow, I fear we may end up disappointing them with no one to present," Ronan admitted, his tone heavy with concern.
"I'm sure we'll find a way. For now, let's set this discussion aside. Anything unusual from the refugees flooding in?" Kaelion asked, adjusting the cuffs of his tunic as the attendant stepped back, bowed, and left the room, leaving the two men alone.
"Yes, sire. The number of refugees coming from neighboring and distant kingdoms has doubled in the past two days. There's growing fear and tension among the people, as the refugees have shared disturbing stories about what has befallen their neighbouring kingdoms," Ronan explained.
"And what are these stories?" Kaelion asked, fully dressed and now giving Ronan his full attention.
"A group of merchants from Gryndhall, south of Thalorwyn, reported that a band of demons rose up and swept through Grimhold, consuming everything in their path. They claim these are sorcerers and dark magic practitioners, serving as agents of darkness. They say their goal is to burn and level kingdoms until their king arises to rule over the ashes of the world," Ronan said solemnly.
"Quite interesting... and plausible," Kaelion remarked thoughtfully.
"Another group of traders claimed it was Magnarheim, the kingdom of the Giants, that attacked and destroyed these kingdoms," Ronan added.
"Don't tell me these people actually believe giants exist," Kaelion said, raising a skeptical brow.
"I fear they do, sire."
"I suppose some have spent too much time indulging in bedtime stories," Kaelion said with a chuckle. Ronan allowed himself a brief smile before his expression turned serious again.
"The most intriguing story, however, didn't mention demons or giants," Ronan said, his tone shifting enough to capture Kaelion's curiosity.
"Oh? And what is it?" Kaelion asked, turning to face him fully.
"Two of the refugees claimed to have seen Modkha," Ronan said quietly. The room fell silent, the weight of the name lingering in the air.
"That's impossible. There's no way they could have seen Modkha. The last recorded sighting was during the reign of my ancestor, King Arkonnis the Fierce," Kaelion said, his voice firm yet tinged with unease.
"It could indeed be lies, sire. But... what if it's true? What if they really have seen Modkha?" Ronan asked, his tone cautious yet pressing.
"Well, that might actually be good news," Kaelion replied, his voice lifting slightly in an attempt to steady himself. "It would mean we could finally get some answers to these mysterious events."
"I don't think it's great news, sire," Ronan said, his voice dropping into a serious, almost somber tone.
"Why not?" Kaelion asked, narrowing his eyes at the unease in Ronan's voice.
"I conducted some research after hearing the refugees' claims," Ronan began, his expression grave. "Everything we know of Modkha comes from history—stories dating back to King Rathnor's reign, the first king and founder of Erythoria. During his time, Modkha was a kingdom visible to all, its presence as tangible as any other. But then, before King Rathnor's reign ended, Modkha vanished. Their kingdom disappeared without a trace, leaving no evidence of its existence.
"Since then, Modkha has reappeared only three times in all of recorded history. The first was during the reign of King Leorand the Mighty, Erythoria's third king. The second appearance came during the reign of King Aerion the Resolute, Erythoria's sixth king, who later oversaw the division of Erythoria into seven kingdoms, including Eryndral. The last time Modkha was seen was during the reign of King Arkonnis the Fierce, the twelfth king of Eryndral.
"This is no coincidence, my king. One thing connects these three reigns," Ronan said, his words hanging heavily in the room as he locked eyes with Kaelion.
Kaelion's face darkened as he stared back at Ronan, the weight of his words settling on him like a crushing tide. Slowly, his brows furrowed, and fear flickered in his gaze.
"No, Ronan," Kaelion said, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the thought. "That can't be. It's… it's impossible."
"I fear it's happening again, Your Majesty," Ronan said softly, his tone unwavering but filled with dread.
"No... no. Perhaps it's something else," Kaelion stammered, his voice growing frantic as he sought another explanation. "It could be the awakening of the heroes—that's never happened before. Or perhaps the prophecy... or... or something else entirely."
"My king," Ronan interrupted gently, his voice steady. "It would be best to appear before the people with a calm mind and expression. We can discuss this further after the court session."
Kaelion didn't respond. His gaze turned inward, consumed by the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. Slowly, he lowered himself to the edge of the bed, his shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. His head hung low, his crown slipping slightly forward, as if the burden of carrying the world had finally crushed him after centuries.
Fear etched into every line of his face, he sat there, motionless. The room grew still, the silence broken only by the faint sound of Ronan's breath as he watched his king, uncertain of what lay ahead.
A knock echoed through the chamber, breaking the heavy silence. Ronan moved swiftly to answer, positioning himself in the doorway to shield the servant from seeing the troubled king.
"Sir Ronan, everyone awaits His Majesty's presence in the courtroom," the servant said, bowing respectfully.
Ronan nodded curtly. "I'll see to it," he replied, his voice steady yet firm. The servant bowed again and took his leave.
Closing the door, Ronan turned back to Kaelion, who remained seated at the edge of the bed, his head hung low, the weight of his thoughts keeping him rooted.
"Your Majesty," Ronan began, stepping closer. "The court awaits your presence. In these troubling times, if you do not show up, it will only fuel the fear and uncertainty gripping the people."
But Kaelion didn't stir, his mind still tangled in the web of possibilities and fears. Ronan's jaw tightened, and with purposeful strides, he approached the king, placing both hands firmly on his shoulders.
"Kaelion," Ronan said, his voice low but resolute. "We will find a way. We always do. Trust in that."
The king's eyes blinked as though he had just awoken from a trance. Slowly, he stood, the weight of the moment still visible in the sag of his shoulders. With deliberate movements, he adjusted his crown, straightening himself.
As Kaelion moved toward the doorway, readying himself for the court, he stopped and turned to Ronan, who followed close behind.
"How many have heard the rumors of Modkha?" Kaelion asked, his voice even but carrying an undertone of concern.
Ronan hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I'd estimate that two-thirds of the kingdom have heard of it, sire. And among them, nearly a third believe it strongly enough to convince the others."
Kaelion's brows furrowed. "And how long before they begin to piece together the patterns in history tied to Modkha's sightings?"
"Perhaps weeks, Your Majesty," Ronan replied after a measured pause.
Kaelion turned toward the door, ready to leave, but Ronan's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"About Eryndral's hero," Ronan said cautiously, his tone laced with unease.
Kaelion froze, the mention of the hero sparking an unspoken dread. "What about it?" he asked, his voice steady but guarded.
Ronan hesitated, visibly grappling with the weight of his thoughts. "Could it be..." He stopped short, his voice faltering, fear creeping into his expression.
Kaelion turned slowly, his piercing gaze fixed on Ronan, the unspoken words stirring an unwelcome realization in his mind.
"No," Kaelion whispered, his breath hitching. "No, it can't be. It can't be!"
The chamber fell into an oppressive silence, the weight of what was left unsaid bearing down on both men like an unshakable shadow.