Prophecies of the Fallen

Chapter 1

The morning sun bathed the sprawling kingdom of Ethletes in golden light. From the peaks of Mount Farion to the bustling ports of the Emerald Sea, the kingdom was alive with the hum of life. It had been this way for almost a millennium, ever since the Ethletes dynasty ascended to power and unified the five lands under a single banner. Ethletes, the heart of the realm, stood tall, its grandeur unmatched. Its central city, Etrathis, boasted towering spires of marble and crystal that shimmered in the sun, casting a brilliant light over the landscape.

Princess Ilyra Ethletes stood on the balcony of the High Keep, her eyes tracing the distant horizon where the borders of the five lands blurred with the sky. She was no stranger to this view-one she had looked upon with pride and responsibility for as long as she could remember. She was the only heir to the throne, and soon, the weight of the entire kingdom would fall on her shoulders.

Her mother, Queen Sarathene, had ruled alone since the death of her consort, King Varion, when Ilyra was but a child. The queen was a powerful ruler, beloved and respected by her people, but even she knew that the time was coming for Ilyra to step into her role. Ethletes was peaceful, but there was a tension in the air-a feeling Ilyra couldn't quite shake.

A knock on her chamber door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, turning away from the view.

The door creaked open, and a familiar figure entered-Captain Thandros, her most trusted bodyguard and a lifelong friend. His expression was grim.

"Your Highness," Thandros began, "news from the Western Reach. Lord Kaelor has refused the queen's summons. He claims his lands are in turmoil and cannot spare the time for court matters."

Ilyra frowned, her brow furrowing. Lord Kaelor had always been a difficult man, but this open defiance was new. "What sort of turmoil?" she asked.

"Bandits, he says. Raiding villages near the border. But our scouts have reported little sign of such activity."

"Then what is he hiding?" Ilyra murmured to herself, though she could guess. Lord Kaelor had always resented the Ethletes rule, despite benefiting from the kingdom's protection. He had never been loyal-at least, not truly. But to defy the queen so openly? That was bold, even for him.

She turned back to the balcony, her mind racing. "I'll go," she said decisively. "I'll see for myself what Kaelor is up to. If there's trouble brewing, I need to know."

Thandros hesitated, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Your Highness, is that wise? If he's plotting something-"

"That's exactly why I need to go," Ilyra cut him off. "If Kaelor is planning something, he won't show his hand from here. I need to be there, in the Reach, to see for myself."

Thandros sighed, knowing better than to argue with her once her mind was set. "Very well. I'll prepare the escort."

Ilyra nodded, her mind already on the journey ahead. The Western Reach was a harsh, mountainous region, far from the splendor of Etrathis. It was a place where loyalty was fickle, and power was constantly shifting. If Kaelor was scheming, she would have to tread carefully.

As Thandros left to make preparations, Ilyra felt a cold wind brush against her skin. She shivered despite the warmth of the morning. Something about this felt... wrong. And it wasn't just Kaelor's defiance. There was something deeper, something she couldn't quite place.

A knock came at the door again, this time softer. When she turned, a hooded figure stood in the doorway, their features hidden by the shadow of their cloak.

"Who are you?" Ilyra demanded, her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at her waist.

The figure stepped forward, removing their hood to reveal a woman, her hair a cascade of silver, her eyes glowing faintly with a soft blue light. She was no ordinary visitor-this woman was of the magical order. Ilyra had met a few of them over the years, but they rarely left their sanctuaries unless something of great importance called them forth.

"I am Aralith," the woman said, her voice calm but with an edge of urgency. "I bring a message of grave importance."

Ilyra's grip on her dagger loosened, but she did not fully relax. "Speak, then."

Aralith stepped closer, her eyes locking onto Ilyra's. "A prophecy long hidden is about to unfold-a darkness that threatens not only your kingdom, but all the lands of this realm. It is tied to the bloodline of the Ethletes, and to you, Princess."

Ilyra's pulse quickened, but she kept her voice steady. "A prophecy? What are you talking about?"

Aralith's eyes flickered with something unreadable-fear, perhaps, or pity. "The prophecy speaks of a time when the balance of power will shift, when a force from beyond the veil of the world will rise. It is said that the blood of the ruling house will either bring salvation... or destruction. And the key to that lies with you."

Ilyra felt the weight of the words settle on her chest like a stone. "Why me?"

"The magic in your blood," Aralith said, "it ties you to forces far older than this kingdom. The Ethletes have ruled for nearly a thousand years, but they are not invincible. The balance is shifting, and soon, choices will need to be made. Choices that will determine the fate of your kingdom-and your life."

Ilyra stared at her, trying to process everything. This was madness. A prophecy? A darkness tied to her bloodline? She was no stranger to the whispers of ancient magic-her mother had always told her stories of the old days, when magic ruled the world and the Ethletes family rose to power through their mastery of it. But those were just stories. Weren't they?

"You must go to the Western Reach," Aralith continued. "There, you will find the first of many pieces of the puzzle. Lord Kaelor's defiance is only the beginning. Dark forces are already in motion."

Ilyra felt a surge of anger rise within her. "You expect me to believe this? That my kingdom, my people, are in danger because of some ancient prophecy? That I am at the center of it?"

Aralith's expression softened. "I understand your doubt, but you must listen. The magical order has protected this kingdom for centuries, but there are things even we cannot stop. Not alone."

"And what do you expect me to do?"

"Trust your instincts, Princess. And when the time comes, trust in the magic within you."

With that, Aralith turned and left, leaving Ilyra alone with her thoughts, the weight of the prophecy hanging heavy in the air.

As the sun continued to rise over the kingdom of Ethletes, Ilyra knew one thing for certain: whatever was coming, it would change everything.

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Ilyra's departure for the Western Reach was swift. Thandros had gathered a small but skilled escort, and within hours, they were on the road, leaving the towering spires of Etrathis behind. The journey would take several days, and as they rode, Ilyra couldn't shake the feeling that the world she knew was slipping away, piece by piece.

The road ahead was uncertain, and with it, the fate of the entire kingdom.

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