Fires of Fate

Chapter 1

Hey guys. So I did some reading on chapter 1 and realized somethings just didn't make sense. So I rewrote chapter 1 and am planning on rewriting chapter 2 as well. I'm not as busy this week as I was last week so I should be able to get chapters 1-3 done. I'll try to throw chapter 4 in there as well but that's not guaranteed. Thank you guys so much for understanding that there might be delays between chapters. And thank you so much for the support. But anyways here's the new chapter 1.

The kingdom of Aranth stood as a gleaming jewel upon the rugged cliffs, its towering walls encircling a city rich with history and power. Protected by magic as old as the gods themselves, Aranth was a city of legend. The marble spires of its temples reached for the heavens, shimmering in the golden light of dawn, while the banners of its noble houses fluttered proudly in the breeze. It was a place where warriors walked among the halls of kings, and where the gods themselves whispered their blessings upon the city's people.

Its ruler, King Eldros, was admired for his wisdom and unmatched military might, while Queen Lyranna was renowned for her grace and unmatched beauty. Together, Eldros and Lyranna had built a legacy of peace and prosperity. Their firstborn son, Malion, was the hope of the kingdom—a bright, strong child with all the promise of becoming a great warrior one day.

As Lyranna grew heavy with their second child, a shadow began to fall over the royal family. One fateful night, the queen awoke from a terrifying nightmare, her body trembling with fear. She had seen Aranth engulfed in flames, its once-glorious towers crumbling into ash. The screams of the dying had filled the air as the city burned to the ground, and standing at the center of the destruction was the unborn child within her.

Fearing the worst, King Eldros sought counsel from the Oracle of the Flame, a seer known for her connection to the gods and their will. When Eldros arrived at the sacred temple, the Oracle's voice echoed through the chamber, cold and distant.

"The child in Queen Lyranna's womb," the Oracle said, her eyes clouded with visions, "will be the doom of Aranth. His birth will bring forth a calamity that will see the kingdom burned to the ground. The gods have spoken."

Eldros felt the weight of the prophecy crush him. His kingdom, his people, and his family—everything he had sworn to protect—was now at risk because of the unborn child. He returned to the palace, his heart heavy, where he was met with more devastating news. Lyranna had gone into labor.

Prias felt a cold dread settle in his heart. As he hurried back to Aranth, he knew what had to be done. His love for his family was great, but his duty to his kingdom was greater. He would not allow his home to fall.

Hours after his return, Queen Lyranna gave birth to their second son. He was a beautiful child, healthy and vibrant, with a strong cry and bright eyes. But the king could not see him as his son. He could only see the destruction foretold by the oracle.

King Eldros made the decision swiftly. To save Aranth, the child must die. He gave the boy no name, for he could not bear to call him his own. Queen Lyranna, heartbroken and desperate, tried to shield the infant from her husband's decree. She named him Alexandros in a vain hope of giving him some semblance of identity, but it was futile.

Unable to bear the task himself, Eldros entrusted the infant to a shepherd named Damarion, a trusted servant of the royal family. Damarion was ordered to take the child to the foot of Mount Idris, a desolate and wild region, and there end his life. The shepherd took the infant, his heart filled with sorrow for the terrible duty placed upon him.

When Damarion reached the mountain, he stood on its windswept slopes, the baby Alexandros cradled in his arms. But as he prepared to fulfill his king's command, he found himself unable to carry it out. He could not bring himself to kill the innocent child. Instead, with a heavy heart, he laid the baby on the cold ground, hoping nature would take its course.

Days passed, and the guilt gnawed at Damarion. He could not escape the weight of what he had done. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he returned to the spot where he had abandoned the child. What he found shocked him.

The baby was alive—miraculously so—and being nursed by a great mother bear. The shepherd's breath caught in his throat as he watched the child, untouched by the elements, thriving under the care of the beast. He knew then that the gods had intervened. This child was meant to live.

With a heart filled with both awe and fear, Damarion took the baby in his arms and returned to his humble home in the mountains. He renamed the boy Caledon and raised him as his own, believing that the gods had spared him for some great purpose. Under Orus' care, Caledon grew strong, his beauty and charm rivaling those of any nobleman's son. His strength was unparalleled, and his spirit wild like the mountains he called home.

He had a simple life in the countryside, tending to the flocks under the vast skies of the wild hills. Caledon grew up with the freedom to roam, his days filled with the simplicity of a shepherd's life. He became known for his strength and beauty, traits that caught the attention of many in the surrounding lands.

One day, while tending his sheep by the crystal-clear streams that flowed from Mount Idris, Caledon encountered a Nymph named Lyrielle, a spirit of the forest. She was as beautiful as the dawn, with hair like spun silver and eyes that shimmered like emeralds. The two were drawn to one another with an unexplainable bond, and before long, they fell deeply in love.

Lyrielle, enchanted by Caledon's wild yet kind heart, swore him eternal love beneath the sacred boughs of an ancient oak tree. Their life together was one of peace and harmony, living in the untouched beauty of nature. The couple's love flourished in the countryside, untouched by the troubles of the world beyond.

But though Caledon's life seemed idyllic, fate had a way of circling back. For while he lived in bliss with his beloved Nymph, the prophecy of his birth still lingered, waiting to unfold.