Songs of War Book 1: The Prophecy

Prologue

The Old Man was forcefully brought into the Throne Room, his once vibrant complexion now a ghostly pallor that revealed the outline of his bones through his skin. He was swiftly shackled and handcuffed by two guards, the weight of the restraints alone enough to subdue an average human. However, the Old Man was no ordinary being. He was an Ardoni, a Mendoris, known for their mastery of Songs and prophetic abilities. As the former Bladesinger for the Mendoris Clan and the current Master of the Mendoris, he had once been a formidable foe. Yet now, his powers were waning, and the markings on his skin flickered dimly, signaling his imminent demise. Despite his weakened state, the Old Man had claimed to have the ability to tap into the realm's future and predict events before they occurred, but even that power seemed to be slipping away from him.

The room stretched out in grandiosity, its walls adorned with intricate carvings that depicted the rich history of the Netharan Empire and their conquests of other kingdoms, leading up to their eventual arrival in the Realm of Ardonia. Only four massive pillars supported the cavernous ceiling, from which streams of lava cascaded down, creating a fiery mist that filled the throne room. While the searing heat would be lethal to a human, it was a mere inconvenience for the Netharans, who drew strength from the extreme temperatures, enabling them to be formidable warriors on the battlefield. Towering in size compared to the Ardoni, some Netharans were known to singlehandedly dispatch dozens of opponents before succumbing in combat.

As they entered the throne room, the Master's gaze lifted to behold an overwhelming sight. Hundreds, if not thousands, of Netharans filled the vast chamber, pounding their Halbergs in a rhythmic war chant. The guard continued to drag the weakened Mendoris towards the throne where King Chronos, the Conqueror, sat. It was in this very room that Chronos's father and grandfather had failed in their attempts to conquer Ardonia before him. But Chronos, with his fiery orange eyes and skin that burned with the red hue of magma, appeared unfazed. He was cleaning his sword, Deathbringer, a legendary blade forged thousands of years ago that remained as sharp as ever. As the guard threw the Ardoni to the ground just inches from the throne, the pounding rhythm ceased, and the room fell into a silence as cold and still as a graveyard. Standing beside Chronos was Phythus, his trusted second-in-command and heir to the throne. On the third step below stood Dreadlord, a fearsome former Voltaris Bladesinger who represented the Voltaris for the Nether Kingdom and served as the General of the Felden Occupation Forces. Clad in a skeleton mask to conceal his identity as one of the Undead, Dreadlord wielded the Wither Staff and a battleaxe with a menacing aura.

Dreadlord's voice boomed as he questioned the Old Man, "Old man, Is it you who spread the meaningless prophecy everywhere you walked?!" However, the Master remained unshaken, despite being in the presence of King Chronos and his formidable Imperial Guard.

With a staggered attempt to rise, the Mendoris Master chuckled. "Your words do not instill fear in me, boy. The fact that all of you have gathered here at once tells me that my prophecy has indeed shaken you to your core," he said, managing to sit upright, his anger still evident. Despite falling to his knee once again, the Master refused to give up and tried to stand once more. "And when the prophecy is fulfilled, the darkness that shrouds Ardonia will drive you demons off our lands!"

"Silence!" Dreadlord scolded, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. He took a deep breath before continuing, "You stood at the mercy of his grace, yet you dare to threaten him!"

The Master locked eyes with King Chronos, who had stopped cleaning his sword and was now looking directly at him. It was evident that Chronos was inclined to order his execution regardless of what the Master said. Undeterred, the Master spoke again, this time louder and with unwavering conviction.

"Remember this, you vile beast! There will be an Ardoni, born under the year of the dragon, who will use the Prime Songs to drive the invaders out of Ardonia!" he declared, his voice echoing through the throne room.

"I said, shut up!" Dreadlord scolded, but the old man's voice grew even louder, and Chronos began to rise from his throne with his sword in hand.

"When that time comes, Ardonia will finally be FREEEEEEEEEEE!" the Master screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing through the room. In a blinding flash, as if a bomb had exploded, the impact shook the throne room, creating a massive crater on the floor and causing damage to the surrounding pillars. The dust settled, revealing King Chronos's sword plunged into the Master's chest. The old man's body went limp, and his flickering purple markings turned black as life left him. Chronos pulled out his sword, and the Master's body fell to the ground, lifeless.

King Chronos issued his command with authority, his voice resonating through the throne room. The Imperial Guard, including Pythus and Dreadlord, bowed in reverence as he spoke, "Send the Raven to all the camps. Order them to kill the Ardoni born under the Year of the Dragon and make it known that anyone who dares to aid them will meet a similar fate!"

The room erupted in a chorus of approval, and the pounding of fists against armor resumed in unison. Chronos's eyes blazed with a bright orange glow as Dreadlord nodded in agreement and swiftly moved to send the Raven, carrying the king's decree. The resounding thuds echoed beyond the throne room.