Bloodlines shattered: The rise of a rebellion

Prologue: Swords of Blood

The battlefield stretched endlessly, a sea of mud and ash under a sky choked with storm clouds. Fires burned in the distance, their smoke spiraling like the fingers of some unseen hand, clawing at the heavens. Two armies faced each other in grim silence, the stillness broken only by the distant cries of the wounded.
In the no man's land between the lines, two figures stood apart, facing one another.
One was clad in obsidian armor, his black cape dragging in the dirt behind him. His helm was shaped like the skull of some monstrous beast, and his gauntleted hands gripped a jagged sword that pulsed with faint, red light. The other wore silver plate that gleamed faintly, even under the oppressive clouds. His golden hair spilled over his shoulders, and in his hands was a longsword inscribed with glowing runes of protection.
They had once been brothers, not just in blood but in bond.
"So, brother," said the man in black, his voice a blade of sorrow. "Once again, we fight."
The one in silver said nothing at first, his eyes fixed on the other's face. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled.
"Why did it have to come to this, Lorian?" he asked, his sword lowering slightly. "We were supposed to protect each other."
Lorian's lips curved into a bitter smile beneath his helm. "Some things are more important than family, Eryk. You've seen the cost of Father's rule. You've seen what he has done to this kingdom."
"I've seen what rebellion has done to you," Eryk shot back. His sword rose again, its edge gleaming. "You're a shadow of the brother I once knew."

smile faded. He tightened his grip on his blade.
"So, brother," he murmured again, more softly this time. "Once again, we fight."
They pulled out their swords—only this time, they were not made of wood but of metal, and already, they were covered with blood.