The Cursed Kingdom

P R O L O G U E | a farewell in steel

Arana's brows furrowed in both uncertainty and determination. She had always been taught to value diplomacy and intellect, not the sword and shield. Yet, deep down, she knew that her father's words held a profound truth.

"I need to prepare for war." King Alistair's words hung heavy in the air, carrying a weight of both duty and sacrifice. Arana's heart sank as she listened to her father's somber declaration. The reality of his impending departure and the uncertainty of his return enveloped her, leaving her with a mix of fear and determination.

"But father," she pleaded, her voice quivering, "there must be another way. We can find a solution that doesn't require you to risk your life."

King Alistair's gaze softened, filled with a blend of sorrow and determination. He understood his daughter's concerns and the depth of her love for him, but he also knew that the stakes were too high to ignore.

Arana's voice trembled with uncertainty and fear as she pleaded with her father, her eyes brimming with tears. The weight of the unexpected burden thrust upon her felt insurmountable. She had been groomed to embody grace and elegance, not to wield weapons and engage in battle.

"Father, I beg you," she implored, her voice quivering. "I am but a princess, schooled in diplomacy and etiquette. How can you ask me to become a warrior in such a short time? I don't possess the skills or the knowledge needed for such a role."

Her words hung in the air, echoing her disbelief at the sudden demand placed upon her young shoulders. The realm of warfare was unfamiliar territory for her, and the thought of stepping onto that treacherous path seemed overwhelming.

"You're not just a princess, Arana. You're a leader, a warrior, and this will aid you in becoming one." He handed her an ancient ring, the runes carved in a language long forgotten. The weight of her father's words settled heavily on Arana's heart. She struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the role that was being thrust upon her. The title of princess had always carried a sense of privilege and elegance, not the weight of leadership and warfare.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she reached out to touch the ancient ring that her father presented to her. The intricate runes engraved on its surface seemed to whisper stories of courage and sacrifice from a time long past. It was a tangible link to her mother, a reminder of the strength that coursed through her veins.

"Father," she choked out, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "I... I can't bear the weight of this responsibility. It's too much for me to handle. I'm not prepared for this."

Her father's gaze softened, his voice filled with a mix of sorrow and determination. "Arana, my dear, I understand the overwhelming emotions that consume you right now. But you are more capable than you realize. Your mother, she was a warrior, just as you are. In her absence, you carry her legacy, her strength, and her spirit within you."

Arana's fingers tightened around the ring, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts. She had always admired her mother's courage and determination, but the thought of stepping into her shoes felt daunting and impossible.

Her father stepped closer, his hand gently resting on her shoulder. "I know this is a lot to ask of you, my precious daughter. But the kingdom needs you. They need your leadership, your bravery. I have complete faith in you, and I will be by your side every step of the way even if..."

"Your Majesty!" A weary voice called out, accompanied by the sound of hurried footsteps and commotion reverberating from outside the cavernous room.

King Alistair's head snapped towards the source of the disturbance, his eyes filled with concern. Arana's heart raced as she turned her attention to the commotion as well, anticipation and worry tightening her grip on the ancient ring.