Sunlight filtered softly through verdant leaves, casting playful patterns on the ground where a young Caelan, no older than six, chased a colorful butterfly through the royal gardens. His laughter echoed brightly, mingling with the comforting hum of bees and the distant song of birds. Queen Seraphine watched from nearby, a serene smile on her face, eyes warm with affection.
Caelan paused, catching his breath, his attention drawn to a tapestry depicting legendary heroes hanging in the courtyard. His eyes widened in fascination. "Mother, tell me about them again!"
Queen Seraphine knelt beside him, gently brushing a strand of hair from his eyes. "Those are heroes from our past, Caelan. Warriors who protected our kingdom, kings who led with honor."
"Will I ever be a hero like them?" Caelan asked, eyes shining.
"You will," Seraphine assured him warmly. "The strength and spirit of our ancestors live in you."
The memory dissolved into gentle mist, pulling Caelan from his reverie. His eyes snapped open, reality reclaiming him swiftly. At fifteen years old, he now sat cross-legged in his private chambers, mana swirling unsteadily around him. The familiar scent of jasmine permeated the air, grounding him firmly in the present.
"Steady your breathing," Queen Seraphine instructed gently, standing beside him with regal composure. King Alaric observed quietly from the doorway, pride evident in his gaze.
Frustration briefly crossed Caelan's features as his mana slipped again. He sighed deeply. "I'm trying, Mother."
"Relax," she said softly, touching his shoulder reassuringly. "We delay your summoning because a larger mana pool ensures a stronger summon. Your future companions deserve your best."
Caelan nodded, determination returning. "I understand."
Alaric approached, expression softening. "You embody the strength and spirit of our ancestors. Patience now ensures greatness later."
Their peaceful moment shattered abruptly as distant screams echoed through the palace halls, a sudden, unnatural chill slicing through the warmth. Shadows stretched ominously, panic spreading rapidly.
"Seraphine, the hidden passage—now!" Alaric commanded urgently.
"Father, what's happening?" Caelan asked, panic rising sharply within him.
"Assassins," Alaric responded tersely, gripping Caelan's shoulders firmly. "Remember who you are, Caelan. Survive. Protect our legacy."
Queen Seraphine guided Caelan urgently toward the hidden passage concealed behind a tapestry, explosions now rattling the palace walls. Smoke seeped into the corridors as dark figures invaded, blades glinting ominously.
"Mother! Father!" Caelan's voice broke in desperation.
"Listen carefully," Seraphine's voice wavered, urgent yet resolute. "Summon a spirit if you must. Trust our ancestors' wisdom. You will never be alone."
"Mother, come with me!" Caelan pleaded, anguish evident in his voice.
She gently pushed him into the hidden passage, tears bright in her eyes. "Go to the academy, the principal will know what to do, you'll be safe there. You carry our kingdom within you. Go now!"
The door sealed shut, cutting off the sounds of battle. Trembling, Caelan navigated the dimly lit tunnel, heart racing, mind clouded by grief and confusion. Dust fell around him with each explosion, choking his breath, yet he stumbled forward, guided only by instinct.
Reaching the ancestral shrine, he collapsed before the central altar, breath heaving, vision blurred by tears. Images of legendary heroes watched silently from stone carvings, waiting patiently for his plea.
"Please," Caelan whispered, voice cracking. "Help me."
Mana surged fiercely within him, grief and desperation fueling his power. Ancient runes flared to life, their glow filling the shrine. A spectral vortex formed, crackling with energy.
From this light emerged a towering figure, armored and imposing, wielding a blade of ethereal brilliance. Piercing, compassionate eyes met Caelan's instantly.
"Prince Caelan," the spirit spoke solemnly. "I am Eldric, protector of your lineage, hero of old."
"Eldric," Caelan whispered, awed and relieved. "My parents…our kingdom…"
"I sense your peril," Eldric's voice hardened. "Stay close, Prince. We must flee."
Swiftly, Eldric guided Caelan through secret tunnels, emerging into chaos. The palace burned, the night sky crimson and black with smoke. Assassins surged toward them, but Eldric met them with ruthless efficiency, his spectral blade cutting them down. A dark-robed figure stepped forward, unleashing a wave of deceptive illusionary magic.
The world twisted around Caelan, distorting reality. Panic rose sharply until suddenly, the Oathbreaker's Crown—a latent bloodline ability—ignited within him. Brilliant silver runes flared above his brow, shattering the illusions instantly, revealing the startled mage.
Eldric engaged fiercely, carving a path through enemies, but their numbers grew swiftly. Caelan hesitated, torn by loyalty and grief. Suddenly, a majestic, Fallen Angel, one of his mother's powerful summons, ran towards him, its voice resonating telepathically.
"Caelan, you must go now. Your parents are strong—they need you safe, so that they can't fight without distraction," the Angel implored gently yet firmly.
"But mother—" Caelan protested.
"She will be safe, Eldric will be by your side as long as your mana sustains him. Trust your parents' wisdom," the Angel assured him. "I will assist them."
Realizing survival was his responsibility now, Caelan fled desperately into the dense forest, Eldric swiftly following, battling off pursuing enemies. Branches tore at his clothes, breath searing his lungs. Collapsing against a rough-barked tree, gasping for air, he turned briefly to see the distant flames consuming his home.
"Survive," Caelan murmured, recalling his parents' final plea. Dawn broke bleakly over his ravaged homeland, illuminating the shattered fragments of his innocence—and forging a fierce, new resolve within him to reclaim everything lost.