ã€ŠThe legend of A kingã€‹


 Prologue

    Present Day...

    The rain fell in relentless sheets, drowning the cries of victory that echoed across the battlefield. Blood soaked the earth, pooling in dark patches around broken bodies. Fires smoldered in the distance, their embers dying with the storm.

    She knelt in the mud, her hands trembling as they cradled his face. The blood that soaked his chest had long since cooled, staining her fingers in a shade that would never wash away. His eyes, once bright and full of determination, stared blankly into the stormy sky. She had seen the moment his life was taken¡ªwatched the light fade from his gaze. She had felt it too, the bond snapping like a string pulled too tight. It left an emptiness inside her, a void so vast it consumed everything else.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Her voice was hoarse from screaming his name, a sound lost in the chaos of battle. Now, there was only silence. Her tears had run dry, leaving her hollow, unable to do anything but sit there with him.

    The horns of victory blared in the distance, their triumphant song a cruel mockery of her grief. The battle was over. They had won. But what had they truly gained? Their king was gone.

    Behind her, soldiers moved through the field, tending to the wounded and gathering the fallen. The generals approached, their steps hesitant as they stopped a short distance away. She could feel their stares¡ªsorrowful, heavy with pity¡ªbut she didn¡¯t look at them. She didn¡¯t move at all.

    The rain washed over her, cold and unrelenting. His blood mingled with the mud, staining the ground beneath them. Time seemed to stop, and yet, the world continued without her. The weight of what she had lost pressed down on her chest, suffocating and endless.

    Victory had come at a price. For her, it had taken everything.

 Chapter one

    Five years earlier

    The training courtyard buzzed with life, though none dared step too close to the three figures at its center. The sun bathed the scene in golden light, casting long shadows as three brothers moved with practiced precision, their powers rippling through the air like threads of an ancient tapestry being woven anew. Knights and onlookers gathered along the edges, their cheers muffled by awe and caution. To be too near these princes was to feel the hum of raw energy, untamed yet perfectly in sync.

    Jackson, the eldest, commanded the flames with the ease of a conductor leading a symphony. Fire danced along his fingertips, twisting into spirals that surged and flared with his every motion. His laughter rang out, bright and infectious, as he feinted a strike, the flames licking dangerously close to his brothers. ¡°Too slow, Damien! And Alex¡ªwhat was that? A puddle?¡± he teased, his grin wide as he dodged their counterattacks.

    Damien, the second-born, stood firm as the earth itself, his feet rooted with an unshakable grace. He was the calm amidst the storm, his movements deliberate and precise. With a wave of his hand, the ground beneath Jackson¡¯s feet shifted suddenly, sending the eldest prince stumbling with a laugh. ¡°A puddle might drown you, brother, if you¡¯re not careful,¡± Damien replied, his tone gentle but edged with playful wit.

    Alexander, the youngest, was a whirlwind of water and daring, his power flowing like the rivers he so loved. Droplets hovered in the air around him, shimmering like a second skin before surging forward in a torrent that narrowly missed Jackson. His smirk was sharp, his voice carrying the boldness of youth. ¡°Better a puddle than ash! Let¡¯s see you put this out,¡± he challenged, sending a wave spiraling toward his oldest brother.

    The courtyard erupted in cheers and laughter, but none dared step closer. The onlookers knew better than to intrude upon the princes¡¯ rare moment of freedom. Here, away from the weight of royal responsibility and the ever-watchful eyes of the court, they were simply brothers¡ªthree forces of nature, each distinct yet part of a whole. Fire, earth, and water. Passion, wisdom, and courage. They clashed and laughed and wove together a harmony that spoke of the bond they shared, a bond forged in blood and strengthened by years of shared triumphs and trials.

    Jackson lunged forward, his flames extinguished as he grappled Damien to the ground with a laugh. ¡°Wisdom won¡¯t save you now, brother!¡± he crowed, only to yelp as a wave of water drenched them both, courtesy of Alex¡¯s well-timed attack.

    ¡°You two are hopeless,¡± Damien muttered, though his lips twitched with a smile as he shoved Jackson off him. The three of them sprawled in the dirt, their sparring match momentarily forgotten as their laughter filled the courtyard.

    For a moment, time seemed to still, and the world beyond the courtyard walls faded. The weight of their father¡¯s crown, the expectations of a kingdom, and the shadow of the future all disappeared, leaving only the laughter of three brothers who knew, in their hearts, that together they were stronger than apart.

    The training courtyard buzzed with life, though none dared step too close to the three figures at its center. The sun bathed the scene in golden light, casting long shadows as three brothers moved with practiced precision, their powers rippling through the air like threads of an ancient tapestry being woven anew. Knights and onlookers gathered along the edges, their cheers muffled by awe and caution. To be too near these princes was to feel the hum of raw energy, untamed yet perfectly in sync.

    Jackson, the eldest, commanded the flames with the ease of a conductor leading a symphony. Fire danced along his fingertips, twisting into spirals that surged and flared with his every motion. His presence was magnetic, his laughter bold and infectious as he darted forward, feinting a strike at his youngest brother. ¡°Too slow, Alex! Is that all the mighty water has to offer?¡± he teased, his grin sharp as the flames licked dangerously close.

    Alexander, the youngest, countered with a flash of water, the droplets shimmering like diamonds in the sunlight before they coiled into a whip and lashed toward Jackson. ¡°Better water than ash, old man,¡± he shot back, his bold tone matched by the daring glint in his eyes. The youngest prince moved like the rivers he commanded¡ªswift and unpredictable, his energy a counterpoint to his brothers¡¯ steadiness.

    Damien, the second-born, stood firm as the earth itself, his movements deliberate and grounded. If Jackson was the wildfire and Alex the raging stream, Damien was the mountain¡ªsolid and unyielding. The ground beneath his feet rumbled as he directed a surge of rock toward Jackson, forcing the eldest to leap aside. ¡°Careful, Jackson,¡± Damien said with a wry smile, his voice as steady as his power. ¡°Flames don¡¯t burn as bright buried beneath the earth.¡±

    Their powers clashed in a symphony of elemental force, each brother testing the other with equal parts competition and camaraderie. The onlookers watched, captivated, as fire met water and earth disrupted both in a dance that could only belong to them. Though their Quirks were vastly different, the brothers moved with an innate understanding of one another, a bond forged not only by blood but by years of shared triumphs and trials.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think you¡¯ve got the upper hand, Damien!¡± Jackson laughed, igniting a whip of flame and sending it toward Damien¡¯s feet, only for it to be extinguished in a sudden surge of water from Alex. Jackson turned to the youngest with mock indignation. ¡°You¡¯re getting bold, Alex. Did you forget who¡¯s leading this dance?¡±

    Alex grinned, unrepentant. ¡°Bold enough to keep you on your toes, brother.¡±

    Damien stepped forward, his hands raised, and the ground beneath them stilled as if responding to his will. ¡°Enough,¡± he said, his voice calm yet commanding. ¡°If you two keep this up, we¡¯ll flood the city and burn the castle all in one afternoon.¡±

    The tension broke into laughter as the brothers stepped back, panting but grinning. In these rare moments, the weight of the crown and the expectations of their father faded into the background, leaving only the bond of three brothers who were strongest when they stood together. Fire, earth, and water¡ªpassion, wisdom, and courage. Distinct yet inseparable, each one a vital piece of the whole.

    As they walked off the field, the knights and onlookers erupted into cheers, but the brothers paid them no mind. They slung their arms over each other¡¯s shoulders, still teasing and laughing, their connection as enduring as the elements they commanded.

    ---------------------

    The brothers lingered in the castle¡¯s grand baths, their laughter bouncing off the polished stone walls and mingling with the faint sound of trickling water. Steam curled through the air, carrying the scents of mint and lavender from the warmed pools. It was a rare moment of relaxation for the princes, one they savored before returning to their duties.

    Jackson, ever the restless one, lounged near the edge of the bath, his hands idly summoning a small flame that flickered and danced across his fingers. The firelight reflected in his mischievous grin as he looked toward his brothers. ¡°Come on, slowpokes! Are you trying to prune yourselves to death?¡± he teased, his tone light and mocking.

    Alexander, submerged up to his chest in the water, smirked as he leaned against the smooth stone ledge. ¡°Jealous because you can¡¯t handle the heat of a proper bath, Jackson?¡± he quipped, flicking his fingers to send a small splash of water in his older brother¡¯s direction.

    Jackson dodged the spray with a dramatic flourish, the flame in his hand flaring briefly before he extinguished it with a snap of his fingers. ¡°The day I¡¯m jealous of you, Alex, will be the day Damien stops being boring.¡±

    ¡°I heard that,¡± Damien said calmly from the far side of the bath, his deep voice cutting through the steam as he rinsed his arms. He moved with deliberate ease, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. ¡°Maybe if you had the patience for a proper bath, Jackson, you wouldn¡¯t need to play with fire to keep yourself entertained.¡±

    ¡°Patience?¡± Jackson shot back, standing and stretching with a yawn. ¡°Never heard of it. It¡¯s overrated anyway.¡±

    Damien merely shook his head, unbothered, as he finished drying off and began pulling on his tunic. ¡°Perhaps if you stopped rushing, you¡¯d learn to enjoy the finer things.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps if you stopped lecturing, you¡¯d actually be fun for once,¡± Jackson retorted, though his grin took the sting out of his words.

    Alexander chuckled as he stepped out of the water, beads of moisture clinging to his skin. He ran a hand through his damp hair before glancing at Damien. ¡°Don¡¯t bother, Damien. He¡¯s beyond saving.¡±

    Jackson leaned against the marble archway leading out of the baths, his grin widening. ¡°And don¡¯t you forget it.¡±

    The brothers dressed quickly, Jackson finishing first as always. He flicked a tiny flame to life and let it hover in his palm as he leaned against the doorway, watching his brothers adjust their tunics and belts. ¡°Really, it¡¯s like waiting for the sun to rise twice in one day,¡± he mused, pretending to inspect his nails.

    Alex was the next to finish, brushing past Jackson with a smirk. ¡°You¡¯re just upset that we don¡¯t need parlor tricks to make an entrance,¡± he said, shouldering him lightly.

    Damien, true to form, was the last to prepare, his calm demeanor undisturbed by Jackson¡¯s antics. ¡°Or maybe he¡¯s worried he won¡¯t get the attention he craves,¡± he added as he joined his brothers.

    Jackson laughed, snuffing out the flame with a dramatic sigh. ¡°Ah, you know me so well.¡±

    The three brothers exited the baths, their steps echoing in unison as they made their way toward the throne room. Their banter continued, light and teasing, a stark contrast to the responsibilities that awaited them on the other side of the castle¡¯s grand doors.

    Inside, the throne room was a testament to the kingdom¡¯s legacy. Tall windows let in streams of golden light, illuminating the ornate tapestries that adorned the walls. At the far end of the room, the king sat upon his throne, his presence commanding yet approachable. His crown caught the sunlight, casting a soft glow around his weathered face. Though age had begun to mark his features, his eyes remained sharp and warm as they fell upon his sons.

    ¡°My boys,¡± the king greeted, his voice rich with pride. ¡°Come closer.¡±

    The brothers approached as one, bowing their heads in unison before stepping into the light of their father¡¯s gaze. The king¡¯s smile widened, and he gestured for them to stand at ease. ¡°I trust your sparring session didn¡¯t leave the courtyard in ruins?¡± he asked, a twinkle of humor in his eyes.

    Jackson grinned, folding his arms. ¡°No promises. But I think Damien managed to bury most of my flames before they got out of hand.¡±

    ¡°And I had to put them out before he set the city on fire,¡± Alex added with a mock-serious tone, earning a chuckle from their father.

    ¡°Good,¡± the king said, his tone shifting to one of purpose. ¡°You¡¯re all skilled warriors, but more importantly, you¡¯re brothers. Moments like these remind me that no crown, no kingdom, will ever mean as much as the bond you share.¡±

    The warmth of his words filled the room, momentarily softening the weight of the crown that loomed over them all.

    The king straightened, his gaze turning thoughtful as he studied his sons. The lightness of the conversation faded as the weight of duty settled over the room. ¡°I have tasks for each of you,¡± he began. ¡°Matters that require your attention and will benefit the kingdom.¡±

    He turned first to Jackson. ¡°Sebo, our eastern border town, has sent troubling reports of attacks. I need you to go there, assess the situation, and ensure the safety of our people. Your commanding nature makes you ideal for this task.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Jackson nodded, his grin fading into a look of determination. ¡°Of course, Father. I¡¯ll leave immediately.¡±

    Next, the king¡¯s gaze shifted to Damien. ¡°I need you to go to Leafan, your mother¡¯s home. The city has requested aid, and your wisdom and steady hand will bring the guidance they need.¡±

    Damien hesitated, the mention of their mother tugging at a hidden ache. Still, he inclined his head respectfully. ¡°I understand. I¡¯ll leave as soon as I¡¯m ready.¡±

    Finally, the king looked to Alex. His youngest son straightened, eager to hear his task, but his father¡¯s expression was firm. ¡°You will stay here, Alexander. The Harvest Festival approaches, and your presence is needed to oversee the preparations and ensure the celebration runs smoothly.¡±

    Alex opened his mouth to protest, but the look in his father¡¯s eyes stopped him. He clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides, but he said nothing. ¡°Yes, Father,¡± he said quietly, though his frustration was palpable.

    The quiet rustling of papers and murmurs from the council reminded the brothers that they were not alone. Seated along the edges of the throne room, the council members observed the exchanges with keen interest. Each man and woman represented the kingdom¡¯s key regions and held a stake in its future. Their silent presence underscored the gravity of the moment, emphasizing that the princes¡¯ tasks were more than familial¡ªthey were political and vital to the realm¡¯s stability.

    Jackson and Damien bowed, excusing themselves to prepare for their journeys. As they turned to leave, Alex hesitated, lingering near the doors. His frustration simmered beneath the surface, but before he could follow his brothers, his father¡¯s voice called him back.

    ¡°Alexander.¡±

    He turned, his expression carefully neutral. ¡°Yes, Father?¡±

    The king¡¯s eyes softened, though his tone remained firm. ¡°I expect to see you at the festival. Do not let me down.¡±

    Alex swallowed hard, his pride warring with his duty. ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± he said, bowing before leaving the throne room.

    As the brothers walked toward their respective wings of the castle, their steps slowed, and their conversation turned quiet. Jackson clapped Alex on the shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t take it personally, Alex. Someone has to keep the festival from turning into chaos.¡±

    Damien added gently, ¡°You¡¯ll have your turn, Alex. Trust Father¡¯s judgment.¡±

    Alex nodded but said nothing, watching as his brothers veered off toward their chambers. Left alone, his thoughts churned, frustration clawing at him as he turned and headed toward the city streets, desperate for a moment of freedom.

    ---------------------

    Jackson stood in the center of his chambers, the golden hues of the late afternoon sun streaming through the high windows and casting long shadows across the stone floor. His tunic, already fitted and fastened, bore the crimson and gold crest of their kingdom, a stark reminder of the responsibilities that weighed on him as the eldest. The room was quiet save for the crackling of a small flame that he absentmindedly summoned, letting it flicker and die in his palm.

    He reached for the communication orb resting on the desk, its surface smooth and shimmering faintly as it responded to his touch. With a twist of his hand, the orb activated, casting a soft glow as he spoke. ¡°Stables,¡± he said, his voice steady but clipped. A moment later, the image of a stable hand appeared within the orb¡¯s light, bowing slightly at the sight of him.

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± the stable hand greeted. ¡°How can I assist?¡±

    ¡°Prepare my Pegasus for a long journey,¡± Jackson instructed. ¡°Fully outfitted, and ensure the supplies are ready. I¡¯ll be departing for Sebo within the hour.¡±

    The stable hand nodded quickly, the image flickering as he replied. ¡°At once, Your Highness.¡±

    As the orb dimmed and silence returned to the room, Jackson sighed and leaned against the edge of his desk. Sebo. The name lingered in his mind like a shadow, the reports of attacks troubling him more than he cared to admit. A border town was always a precarious place¡ªtoo far from the capital to be reassured by its presence, yet too close to neighboring territories to avoid conflict. He¡¯d dealt with skirmishes before, but something about this felt¡­ different.

    The flame in his palm flared again, brighter this time, reflecting the determined set of his jaw. Whatever awaited him in Sebo, he would face it head-on. That was his role, his burden as the eldest prince. If danger loomed, he would meet it with fire in his heart and steel in his hand.

    He straightened, extinguishing the flame with a flick of his wrist, and strode toward the door. There was no room for doubt, not now. The kingdom needed him, and he would not falter.

    ---------------------

    Damien sat by the wide window of his chambers, his chair angled to face the endless horizon. The sun was dipping lower, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose. He stared out at the distant hills, his thoughts drifting far beyond the castle walls to a place he had not visited in years: Leafan.

    The name alone stirred a dull ache in his chest. Leafan was more than just a city to him¡ªit was his mother¡¯s home, a place filled with echoes of her laughter and the warmth of her presence. He could still remember the way she had spoken of it, her voice soft and filled with love. He could see her clearly in his mind¡¯s eye, guiding him through the bustling streets, pointing out the little shops she adored, and the people who had known her as a girl. Returning there now felt like opening a door to a past he had tried to keep locked away.

    His hand drifted to the communication orb on the side table. Its surface was cool beneath his touch, and with a faint glow, it came to life. A familiar voice reached him, warm and tinged with mischief. ¡°Damien. Finally. I was starting to think you¡¯d forgotten me.¡±

    He smiled faintly despite himself. ¡°Seraphine.¡±

    Seraphine¡¯s face appeared in the light of the orb, her sharp green eyes studying him. ¡°You¡¯re brooding again. Let me guess¡ªyou¡¯ve been staring out that window since the sun was up.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve had a lot on my mind,¡± Damien replied evenly, though his gaze flickered briefly back to the horizon.

    Her expression softened. ¡°Then let me pull you out of your thoughts for a while. A walk, a drink, anything to break that stoic shell of yours.¡±

    Damien hesitated, the weight of his father¡¯s orders pressing against his sense of obligation. He exhaled slowly before speaking. ¡°I can¡¯t. I¡¯m leaving for Leafan tonight.¡±

    The shift in her expression was subtle, but he caught it¡ªthe flash of disappointment quickly masked by a teasing smile. ¡°The king¡¯s orders?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said simply, unwilling to elaborate.

    Seraphine sighed, the lightness in her voice giving way to something quieter. ¡°I see. Well, don¡¯t disappear without saying goodbye.¡±

    ¡°You have my word,¡± he promised, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small smile before the orb dimmed, leaving the room in silence once more.

    Damien stood, his gaze drifting back to the window. The horizon beckoned, but so did the memories he had tried so hard to leave behind. Leafan was a part of him, just as his mother was, and though the journey would be difficult, he knew it was one he had to make.

    Turning to the door, he reached for the cord that would summon his attendants. His griffon would need to be prepared, and there was no time to delay. Duty called, as it always did.

    ---------------------

    Alexander strode through the grand halls of the castle, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished stone. The tension in his shoulders hadn¡¯t eased since the throne room. His father¡¯s decision still gnawed at him, a sharp edge of frustration digging into his thoughts. Stay here. Oversee the festival.

    The words felt like shackles.

    At the entrance to the courtyard, he paused and shrugged off his royal cape, handing it to a nearby footman with a curt nod. His sword followed, the leather scabbard gleaming as he passed it off with a simple instruction. ¡°Take it to my quarters.¡±

    The soldier hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. ¡°Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t need it,¡± Alex replied, his tone clipped. The weight of the sword had been a constant companion, but today, it felt like a burden he couldn¡¯t bear.

    He stepped into the open air, the sun warm against his face. For a moment, he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Outside these walls, the city bustled with life. He wasn¡¯t Alexander, the youngest prince of the realm. Out there, he could simply be Alex. No crown. No expectations. Just a man among the people.

    As he passed through the gates, he greeted soldiers and maids along the way, his natural charisma evident in the ease of his interactions. A kind word here, a playful remark there¡ªit was second nature to him. He loved these moments, where smiles and laughter replaced the formalities of court life.

    The market square was alive with color and sound, the air rich with the scent of spices, freshly baked bread, and something sweet that immediately caught Alex¡¯s attention. He followed the familiar aroma to a small stall tucked near the edge of the square, its wooden counter adorned with spun sugar in every shade imaginable.

    Alex grinned as he approached, his sweet tooth guiding his steps. The stall owner, an older man with a kind face, recognized him instantly and began to bow, but Alex raised a hand to stop him. ¡°No need for that,¡± he said, his voice warm. ¡°I¡¯m just here for some sugar.¡±

    As he reached for his pouch, a soft voice behind him caught his ear. ¡°Hunter, stay close,¡± the woman said, her tone gentle but firm. Alex turned to see a young woman approaching the stall, a boy of no more than six tugging at her skirts. The boy was all energy, his eyes wide as he pointed to the vibrant display of sweets.

    ¡°Raina, can we get the blue one? Please?¡± the child begged, his excitement infectious.

    Raina. The name struck Alex before he even saw her face. When she stepped closer, he found himself momentarily still. She was unassuming but radiant, her features softened by the warmth of her smile as she leaned down to speak to the boy.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see what we can get, Hunter,¡± she said, her voice light and melodic.

    The stall owner, catching sight of Alex again, hurriedly turned to serve him first. ¡°Your Highness¡ª¡±

    Alex shook his head, a faint smile curving his lips. ¡°Let the lady go first.¡±

    Raina glanced at him, a flash of surprise in her eyes before she dipped her head in thanks. She turned back to the stall, carefully selecting the spun sugar while Hunter tugged at her sleeve, his excitement barely contained.

    Alex watched her quietly, the way her hands moved as she counted her coins, the easy way she reassured the boy. She seemed completely unaware of how captivating she was, which only made her more so.

    When Raina turned to him at last, spun sugar in hand, she hesitated for a moment before speaking. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, her voice softer now. Her eyes met his, and in that instant, the world seemed to pause.

    Her gaze was warm yet questioning, as though she were trying to place him. Alex held her stare, something he couldn¡¯t quite name settling in his chest. It wasn¡¯t often that someone met his eyes with such openness, without the weight of his title coloring their expression.

    ¡°Hunter, come here,¡± a voice called from across the square, breaking the spell. Raina turned, the moment slipping away, and Alex blinked as if waking from a dream.

    ¡°Coming, Mother!¡± she called back, then glanced at Alex once more. ¡°Sorry to have kept you waiting.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t,¡± he said quickly, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

    She smiled¡ªa small, genuine curve of her lips¡ªand it was like the sun breaking through clouds. As she turned to leave, her name lingered on his tongue, unspoken, until he was alone again. ¡°Raina,¡± he murmured, testing the sound of it as if committing it to memory.

    Alex purchased his spun sugar absently, still caught in the memory of her smile. The bustling market faded into the background as he turned the encounter over in his mind. Who was she? And why did it feel like something had shifted, like the gears of fate had begun to turn?

    The hum of his communication orb brought him back to the present. He retrieved it from his belt, the familiar light glowing as Jackson¡¯s voice crackled through. ¡°Alex, we¡¯re ready to leave. Stop dawdling and get back here.¡±

    He rolled his eyes, though a faint smile lingered on his lips. ¡°On my way,¡± he replied, tucking the orb away.

    As he made his way back to the castle, the spun sugar still in hand, his thoughts returned to Raina. The frustration he¡¯d felt earlier seemed distant now, replaced by something lighter¡ªsomething new. He didn¡¯t know when, but he knew he¡¯d see her again. And the thought left him smiling all the way home.

    ---------------------

    The stables bustled with activity, the soft snorting of Pegasus and Griffons mingling with the clatter of hooves on cobblestone. Jackson strode confidently toward his mount, his crimson cloak flaring behind him. The Pegasus¡ªa proud creature with a coat of snowy white and wings tipped in gold¡ªstamped its hooves impatiently, as if eager to take to the skies.

    Jackson placed a hand on the creature¡¯s neck, his usual grin tempered with a flicker of seriousness. ¡°Easy now,¡± he murmured, the faintest trace of flame dancing along his fingertips before he extinguished it with a wave. He checked the saddle and the supplies once more, a habit ingrained by years of training. The reports from Sebo tugged at his thoughts, but he shoved the unease aside.

    This was his role¡ªhis responsibility as the eldest. If trouble lingered at the border, he would deal with it. Mounting the Pegasus, he looked back briefly toward his brothers, a smirk returning to his face. ¡°Try not to miss me too much,¡± he called, his voice carrying a teasing lilt.

    Damien rolled his eyes but gave a faint smile. ¡°We¡¯ll try to manage,¡± he replied dryly.

    With a final laugh, Jackson nudged the Pegasus, and the creature took to the air in a powerful leap, its wings slicing through the sky. The sight of the eldest prince flying toward the horizon was both inspiring and sobering, a reminder of the weight each of them carried.

    Nearby, Damien adjusted the harness of his griffon, a sleek and formidable creature with sharp golden eyes and feathers that gleamed like polished bronze. The griffon waited patiently, its demeanor as calm and composed as its rider.

    Damien placed a hand on the griffon¡¯s side, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Leafan awaited him, a place steeped in memories he had tried to leave behind. Though he wouldn¡¯t admit it aloud, the thought of returning stirred something uneasy within him, a weight he would have to carry alone.

    With a steadying breath, he mounted the griffon, his movements deliberate. As the beast spread its wings, Damien turned to Alex, his expression softening. ¡°Take care, Alex. The festival needs you more than you realize.¡±

    Alex gave a half-hearted smile and a small nod, watching as Damien and his griffon ascended, their silhouette framed against the setting sun. The sight stirred something bittersweet in Alex¡¯s chest¡ªa blend of pride for his brothers and a gnawing frustration at being left behind.

    The castle courtyard felt strangely empty after his brothers¡¯ departure. Alex remained standing in the shadow of the great stone arches, his gaze fixed on the distant sky where they had disappeared. A cool breeze ruffled his hair, carrying with it the faint scent of the market and the memory of spun sugar.

    His thoughts drifted to the city, to the vibrant streets and the people who moved with a freedom he envied. And then, unbidden, his mind returned to her. Raina. Her name lingered like a melody, one he couldn¡¯t quite forget. He could still see her smile, hear the gentle way she spoke to the boy. The memory softened the edges of his frustration, replacing it with something warmer¡ªsomething hopeful.

    Alex sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned back toward the castle. Left behind again. It wasn¡¯t the first time, but somehow, this time it stung more. He had always known he was different from his brothers¡ªwhere they met their duties with steady hands, he often felt restless, like a river searching for its course.

    But as he walked through the stone halls, his footsteps echoing faintly, a new resolve settled in his chest. If his father wanted him at the Harvest Festival, then he would make the most of it. He would honor his role, as frustrating as it was, and he would find his own way to make an impact.

    And maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªhe would see her again.

    The day faded into twilight, the castle bathed in hues of amber and crimson. From his chamber window, Alex stared out at the horizon, where the last streaks of sunlight disappeared into the distance. Somewhere out there, his brothers were carving paths of their own.

    He pressed a hand against the cool glass, his reflection faint in the growing shadows. He wasn¡¯t sure what the future held, but for the first time, the thought didn¡¯t feel like a burden. Instead, it felt like a challenge. And Alex had never been one to back down from a challenge.

    In the distance, bells tolled softly, marking the hour. The Harvest Festival loomed, bringing with it an opportunity he hadn¡¯t yet imagined. But for tonight, Alex let his thoughts drift to the city, to the market, and to a pair of warm eyes and a smile that had made the world pause.

    ¡°Raina,¡± he whispered to himself, the name a promise as much as a memory.

    And with that, he turned away from the window, the faintest smile tugging at his lips as the night unfolded around him.

 Chapter two

    The wind rushed past Jackson, cool and crisp against his face as Levin soared high above the rolling hills. The Pegasus¡¯s powerful wings cut through the sky with rhythmic precision, carrying them effortlessly over the sprawling landscape below. Jackson grinned, the sense of freedom he always felt in the air easing the weight of the mission ahead. Despite his unease about Sebo and the troubling rumors of attacks, the skies felt like his domain¡ªuntouchable and serene.

    But the serenity didn¡¯t last.

    A sharp whistling sound cut through the air, too fast and too precise to be natural. Jackson¡¯s instincts kicked in, and he pulled hard on Levin¡¯s reins. The Pegasus veered left, narrowly avoiding a deadly projectile¡ªa bolt that whizzed past them and vanished into the clouds.

    ¡°What the¡ª?¡± Jackson muttered, his grip tightening on the reins. His eyes scanned the horizon, and his body tensed as more bolts followed in quick succession. Levin twisted and rolled in the air, the prince¡¯s years of training keeping them just out of harm¡¯s way.

    Then he saw them.

    Figures emerged from the clouds, riding mounts that looked eerily similar to Levin but with darker, sleeker forms. Their riders were clad in dark armor, their faces obscured by helmets. They moved with precision, their formation tight and coordinated.

    ¡°Pegasus riders?¡± Jackson¡¯s voice was low, incredulous. ¡°Who in the hell are you?¡±

    A bolt zipped past, grazing his shoulder. The sharp sting of pain flared, but Jackson pushed it aside. Flames burst to life in his hands as he countered, hurling bursts of fire toward the attackers. The first ball of flame clipped a rider¡¯s mount, sending it into a spiral as the rider struggled to regain control.

    Levin surged forward with a powerful beat of his wings, Jackson guiding him through the barrage with sharp commands and quick maneuvers. ¡°Come on, Levin! Show me what you¡¯ve got!¡± The Pegasus obeyed, twisting and rolling with uncanny agility, but the attackers were relentless.

    Jackson gritted his teeth as one rider closed in, a spear gleaming in their grip. His hand ignited with fire, and he flung it forward in a precise arc. The flame struck true, engulfing the spear and forcing the rider to retreat with a cry of frustration.

    The attackers began to circle, their movements coordinated like predators closing in on prey. Jackson¡¯s mind raced. This wasn¡¯t random¡ªthese were trained riders with a clear objective. But why him? Why now?

    With a surge of determination, Jackson leaned forward, guiding Levin into a sharp dive. The sudden move threw off the attackers¡¯ aim, and another bolt sailed harmlessly into the sky. Flames roared in Jackson¡¯s hands as he spun Levin in a tight arc, unleashing a fiery barrage that scattered the riders.

    One of the dark mounts shrieked as the flames caught its wings, sending it into a rapid descent. The others hesitated, their formation breaking as Jackson pressed the attack.

    But the fight had taken its toll. Jackson¡¯s shoulder throbbed where the bolt had grazed him, and Levin¡¯s movements grew less fluid as exhaustion began to set in. Realizing the battle couldn¡¯t continue in the air, Jackson scanned the ground below, spotting a small village nestled in a valley.

    ¡°Hold on, Levin,¡± he murmured, guiding the Pegasus into a rapid descent.

    The attackers didn¡¯t follow. Whether they had retreated or regrouped, Jackson couldn¡¯t tell. His focus was on landing safely. The Pegasus¡¯s hooves struck the ground with a heavy thud, and Jackson dismounted swiftly, his legs unsteady beneath him.

    Breathing hard, he glanced over his shoulder at the sky, half-expecting the riders to reappear. But the air was clear, save for the faint trails of smoke from his counterattacks.

    He pressed a hand to his shoulder, grimacing at the wet stickiness of blood. ¡°Well,¡± he muttered to Levin, who snorted softly, ¡°that could¡¯ve gone better.¡±

    The village ahead looked small and wary, its wooden houses clustered together as if seeking comfort in closeness. Jackson straightened, his fire still smoldering faintly in his palm as he took a step forward.

    Time to figure out what the hell was going on.

    The square seemed almost deserted at first, the only sound coming from the soft snorts of Levin as the Pegasus pawed at the ground. Then, one by one, villagers emerged from behind doors and corners, their expressions a mix of curiosity and fear. They kept their distance, their wary gazes darting between Jackson and the magnificent creature at his side.

    Jackson let the flame in his hand flicker out, raising his voice to cut through the tension. ¡°I mean no harm,¡± he called out, his tone firm but measured. ¡°I¡¯ve been attacked while traveling and need a place to rest before continuing my journey.¡±

    A murmur rippled through the crowd. The villagers exchanged glances, uncertainty etched on their faces. Jackson¡¯s commanding presence, coupled with the sight of Levin, seemed to hold them in a mix of awe and suspicion.

    Finally, a man stepped forward, clutching a staff in his weathered hands. ¡°And why should we trust you?¡± he asked, his voice steady despite the question¡¯s sharp edge. ¡°Strangers mean trouble in times like these.¡±

    Jackson held the man¡¯s gaze, the authority in his stance and the steadiness of his voice leaving no room for doubt. ¡°Because I am no stranger,¡± he replied. ¡°I am Prince Jackson, and I come seeking nothing but a brief reprieve.¡±

    The villagers gasped, their whispers growing louder. Some bowed their heads in deference, while others lingered in disbelief. Then, from the back of the crowd, an older man with a strong yet weathered frame stepped forward. His gait was slow but deliberate, his eyes sharp with recognition.

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± the man said, bowing deeply. ¡°I am Farlin, leader of Zaria. Forgive the caution of my people¡ªwe are a small village unused to such visits.¡±

    Jackson inclined his head, acknowledging the man¡¯s words. ¡°Your caution is understandable,¡± he said. ¡°These are troubled times. If you¡¯ll allow it, I¡¯ll rest here for an hour before continuing my journey.¡±

    Farlin nodded, gesturing toward a modest house at the edge of the square. ¡°Of course, Your Highness. Please, come with me. My home is yours to use for as long as you need.¡±

    As Jackson followed Farlin, he could feel the weight of the villagers¡¯ stares on his back. The tension in the air remained, but the presence of their leader seemed to temper it. Levin trailed close behind, his golden-tipped wings folded neatly at his sides, a silent testament to the prince¡¯s station.

    Inside the house, Jackson ducked under the low doorway and took in his surroundings. The space was modest but well-kept, the scent of dried herbs lingering in the air. A fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the wooden beams.

    ¡°Sit, Your Highness,¡± Farlin said, motioning to a sturdy chair near the fire. Jackson hesitated for a moment before easing himself into the seat, careful not to aggravate the wound on his shoulder. The warmth of the room was welcome, though it did little to soothe the ache spreading through his arm.

    Farlin knelt by his side, his gaze lingering on the bloodstain spreading across Jackson¡¯s tunic. ¡°Allow me to summon our healer,¡± he said.

    Jackson waved a dismissive hand, though his voice was tinged with weariness. ¡°There¡¯s no need. The wound isn¡¯t serious. I just need a moment to rest.¡±

    But Farlin shook his head firmly. ¡°With respect, Your Highness, it would be a dishonor to let you leave here without aid. Our healer is skilled and will tend to you quickly.¡±

    Jackson exhaled, recognizing the futility of arguing. Villagers could be stubborn in their hospitality, and Farlin¡¯s tone left little room for negotiation. ¡°Very well,¡± he relented. ¡°But make it quick. I cannot afford delays.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Farlin nodded, turning to a young man who lingered by the doorway. ¡°Fetch Eira,¡± he instructed. The boy darted off without a word, and Farlin returned his attention to Jackson, a flicker of pride in his voice. ¡°You¡¯ll find no better healer than Eira. She¡¯s young, but her talent is unmatched.¡±

    Jackson arched an eyebrow but said nothing, leaning back in the chair as exhaustion crept in. He allowed his gaze to drift to the flames, the steady crackle a faint comfort as he waited.

    -----------------

    The sound of hurried footsteps approached the door, followed by a soft knock. Farlin glanced toward Jackson before calling out, ¡°Come in.¡±

    The door creaked open, and in stepped the healer. Jackson¡¯s sharp gaze shifted to her immediately, and for a brief moment, even his weariness seemed to fade. She was younger than he had expected, no older than her early twenties, with long, dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders like a river of ink. Her features were striking, not in an overly delicate way, but with a quiet strength that commanded attention.

    Her eyes, a piercing shade of green, swept the room briefly before settling on Jackson. She dipped her head slightly, a gesture that could have been mistaken for respect. But something in her posture¡ªstraight-backed and unwavering¡ªsuggested it wasn¡¯t deference. It was acknowledgment, tempered with defiance, as if to say, I¡¯ll help you, but I owe you nothing.

    Jackson arched an eyebrow at the unspoken challenge, his curiosity piqued. ¡°You must be the healer,¡± he said, his tone even but edged with subtle amusement.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied simply, her voice steady and devoid of the reverence most would show a prince. She stepped forward, setting a small satchel on the nearby table. ¡°Let¡¯s see to that wound.¡±

    Farlin watched the exchange briefly, then excused himself to give them privacy. As the door closed behind him, the healer approached Jackson, her movements purposeful and calm. Without a word, she crouched beside him, deftly unfastening the buttons of his tunic to reveal the wound on his shoulder.

    Jackson didn¡¯t flinch, though the sting of her cool fingers against his skin sent a faint shiver down his spine. She worked efficiently, cleaning the wound with a cloth soaked in some herbal tincture. The faint, sharp scent of mint and lavender filled the air.

    ¡°You¡¯re remarkably composed for someone who was attacked mid-air,¡± she remarked, her tone matter-of-fact as she examined the injury.

    Jackson smirked faintly, leaning back in his chair. ¡°I¡¯ve seen worse.¡±

    Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and he caught a glimmer of skepticism. ¡°I¡¯m sure you have, Your Highness,¡± she said, though the title carried no particular warmth.

    He chuckled softly, though it quickly turned into a grimace as she pressed against the wound. ¡°Careful, little one,¡± he said, his tone teasing despite the pain.

    Her hands paused briefly, and she glanced up at him again, her expression unreadable. ¡°If you¡¯re expecting me to fawn over you, you¡¯ll be disappointed,¡± she said, returning to her task. ¡°I¡¯m here to patch you up, nothing more.¡±

    Jackson¡¯s amusement deepened, though he wisely chose not to push further. He remained silent, watching her as she worked. There was something about her¡ªher steady hands, her calm demeanor, and that defiant edge¡ªthat tugged at him in a way he couldn¡¯t quite place. She wasn¡¯t like the others he¡¯d encountered in small villages. Most would stammer in awe or tremble under the weight of his title. She, on the other hand, treated him as just another patient.

    The silence stretched as she wrapped a clean bandage around his shoulder, securing it with practiced efficiency. Finally, she rose to her feet, brushing her hands against her skirts. ¡°That should hold,¡± she said, her voice brisk. ¡°Don¡¯t strain it, or you¡¯ll reopen the wound.¡±

    Before Jackson could respond, she picked up her satchel and turned toward the door. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me,¡± she added, her tone formal but clipped.

    He watched her go, his brow furrowing slightly. The pull he felt was faint, a whisper at the back of his mind, but it was enough to linger. As the door clicked shut behind her, he leaned back in his chair, staring at the fire as if it held answers.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± he murmured under his breath, though he couldn¡¯t decide if he was referring to her skill, her defiance, or the strange sensation she left behind.

    Jackson¡¯s gaze lingered on the door even after the healer had left, the faint tug of intrigue still brushing against his thoughts. He shook his head, forcing himself to refocus. There were more pressing matters to address. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its warmth creeping up his uninjured side as Farlin reentered the room, his expression a careful mix of concern and curiosity.

    ¡°Feeling better, Your Highness?¡± the village leader asked, his voice breaking the silence.

    Jackson rotated his shoulder experimentally, wincing slightly but finding the pain manageable. ¡°Better, thanks to your healer,¡± he replied, though his tone was distant, his thoughts already moving ahead. ¡°Now, tell me¡ªwhat¡¯s been happening here? I¡¯ve heard troubling rumors, but I need specifics.¡±

    Farlin nodded gravely, settling into the chair opposite Jackson. The flickering firelight cast shadows across his face, deepening the lines of weariness etched into his features. ¡°It started about a fortnight ago,¡± he began. ¡°Our village has always been quiet, untouched by the troubles that plague larger towns. But now¡­¡±

    He trailed off, his hands clasping tightly in his lap. Jackson leaned forward, his sharp eyes narrowing. ¡°Go on.¡±

    Farlin took a steadying breath. ¡°We¡¯ve been attacked. Not by bandits or raiders, but by riders on dragons.¡±

    The words hit Jackson like a physical blow. He straightened in his chair, the casual posture he¡¯d maintained now replaced by rigid focus. ¡°Dragons?¡± he repeated, disbelief laced with alarm. ¡°Are you certain?¡±

    ¡°As certain as I am sitting here, Your Highness,¡± Farlin said, his voice firm. ¡°They came under the cover of night. Great beasts with wings that blotted out the stars. Their riders torched our crops and stole what little livestock we had left.¡±

    Jackson¡¯s mind raced. Dragons were rare, their presence in the kingdom strictly limited. He knew of only two¡ªthe majestic creatures gifted by the Azov Kingdom, one ridden by his father and the other by his brother, Alex. For these attacks to involve dragons was unthinkable. Unless¡­

    ¡°Did you see any markings? Crests? Anything that could identify them?¡± Jackson asked, his voice low and urgent.

    Farlin shook his head. ¡°No, Your Highness. The riders wore dark armor, and the dragons bore no banners or symbols. It was as though they came from the shadows themselves.¡±

    Jackson leaned back, running a hand through his hair. His father¡¯s dragon was housed securely in the royal stables, and Alex was still in the capital, overseeing the Harvest Festival preparations. It couldn¡¯t be them. But that left a disturbing question: where had these dragons come from?

    The Azov Kingdom had always been an ally, their dragon riders bound by treaties and oaths of peace. The thought of them breaking that trust felt like a betrayal too great to fathom. And yet¡­ the attacks were real, the threat undeniable.

    ¡°Are these attacks common?¡± Jackson asked, forcing himself to remain composed.

    Farlin¡¯s shoulders sagged. ¡°They¡¯ve been increasing. Our village isn¡¯t the only one¡ªSebo and the surrounding areas have reported similar incidents. I fear it¡¯s only a matter of time before they strike again.¡±

    Jackson clenched his jaw, his mind churning. If these attacks were spreading, they weren¡¯t random acts of violence¡ªthey were coordinated, deliberate. Someone was sending a message, and it wasn¡¯t a friendly one.

    Farlin¡¯s voice softened, pulling Jackson from his thoughts. ¡°Your Highness, I know you¡¯ve come to investigate the rumors. I only hope you can find the truth before more innocent lives are lost.¡±

    Jackson met the man¡¯s gaze, his expression hardening with resolve. ¡°I will,¡± he said firmly. ¡°You have my word.¡±

    As the fire crackled and Farlin excused himself to check on the village, Jackson remained seated, his thoughts spiraling. Dragons. The word hung in his mind like a storm cloud.

    He had seen the power of dragons firsthand¡ªthe sheer force of their wings, the fire that could reduce entire fields to ash. They were creatures of legend, dangerous even under the control of skilled riders. The idea of rogue dragons, untethered by loyalty or law, was a nightmare waiting to unfold.

    But who was behind this? The Azov Kingdom had long been a friend to their realm, their dragon riders bound by alliances and treaties. For them to break those bonds would mean war¡ªa war that would devastate both sides. And yet, the evidence couldn¡¯t be ignored.

    ¡°No,¡± Jackson muttered to himself, shaking his head. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make sense.¡±

    He couldn¡¯t let suspicion cloud his judgment, not without proof. Whatever was happening, he needed answers. His journey to Sebo had taken on a new urgency.

    Pushing himself to his feet, Jackson adjusted his tunic and glanced toward the door. The healer¡¯s defiant eyes flashed in his mind, unbidden, but he quickly dismissed the thought. There were larger matters at hand, and distractions were a luxury he couldn¡¯t afford.

    As he strode toward the door, he paused, his hand resting on the frame. ¡°Dragons,¡± he murmured under his breath, the word heavy with unspoken questions. ¡°What in the hell is going on?¡±

    -----------------

    The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the village as Jackson emerged from the leader¡¯s home. His movements were deliberate, his body still stiff from the earlier attack. Levin stood a short distance away, the Pegasus¡¯s sleek coat shimmering in the sunlight. Jackson¡¯s lips twitched into a faint smile at the sight of his steadfast companion, but his gaze quickly caught on something else.

    A figure stood near Levin, her long dark hair catching the light as she ran a gentle hand along the Pegasus¡¯s neck. It was the healer, Eira. Her back was to Jackson, and she seemed unaware of his presence. Her voice, soft but audible, drifted toward him.

    ¡°You poor thing,¡± she murmured, her tone filled with sympathy. ¡°Stuck with a man like him. I¡¯d feel sorry for you too.¡±

    Jackson froze mid-step, a mix of surprise and amusement flickering across his face. The corner of his mouth curved into a slow grin as he watched her, her words sharp but oddly endearing. He cleared his throat lightly, making his presence known. ¡°It¡¯s rude to speak about someone like that when you think they¡¯re not listening.¡±

    Eira jerked upright, her hand snapping away from Levin as though she¡¯d been caught stealing. She turned quickly, her wide green eyes meeting his. For a moment, her expression was startled, but it quickly hardened into a glare. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you were standing there,¡± she said, her voice clipped, though a faint blush betrayed her discomfort.

    Jackson chuckled, his steps measured as he approached. ¡°Clearly. Otherwise, I doubt you¡¯d have been so honest about your opinion of me.¡±

    Eira didn¡¯t back away, though her posture stiffened. ¡°It¡¯s not an opinion if it¡¯s true,¡± she shot back, folding her arms. Her defiance was palpable, her chin lifting slightly as if daring him to refute her.

    Jackson¡¯s grin widened, finding her unflinching demeanor more amusing than offensive. ¡°Little one, you know nothing about me,¡± he said, stopping just a step away from her. ¡°But if you¡¯d like to discuss my flaws, I¡¯d be happy to listen.¡±

    Eira blinked, clearly caught off guard by his playful tone. She opened her mouth to respond, then seemed to think better of it. Turning on her heel, she muttered, ¡°I¡¯ve said enough.¡±

    As she moved to leave, Jackson reached out and gently caught her arm, stopping her in her tracks. His touch was firm but not forceful, his voice light with teasing. ¡°Now, now, I won¡¯t hurt you,¡± he said softly, leaning closer. ¡°But I am curious¡ªwhat exactly did Levin tell you about me?¡±

    Her glare intensified, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty. ¡°Levin didn¡¯t need to say anything,¡± she said tightly, attempting to pull away.

    Jackson laughed, the sound rich and warm as he released her. ¡°You¡¯re braver than most,¡± he remarked, watching her retreat. ¡°But don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ve grown used to being misunderstood.¡±

    Eira took a step back, her expression unreadable as she hesitated. For a moment, it seemed like she might say something, but instead, she turned sharply and strode away, her steps brisk. Still, just before disappearing around the corner, she glanced back at him, her green eyes lingering for the briefest of moments.

    Jackson stood there for a moment, his gaze following her until she was gone. Then he turned to Levin, stroking the Pegasus¡¯s mane with an amused smile. ¡°What did the little one say about me, hmm?¡± he murmured, his tone light. Levin nudged him gently, as if sharing in the joke.

    Jackson chuckled, shaking his head as he mounted the Pegasus. His mind should have been on Sebo, on the dragons, on the attack in the skies. But as they ascended into the air, a part of him couldn¡¯t shake the memory of those defiant green eyes and the fiery spirit behind them.

 Chapter three

    The city square buzzed with activity as preparations for the Harvest Festival reached a fever pitch. Stalls were being erected, colorful banners hung from every available surface, and the hum of cheerful voices filled the air. Alexander moved through the throng with an easy smile, nodding at merchants and townsfolk who paused to bow or greet him. His presence seemed to bring a sense of excitement to the bustling preparations, but Alex barely noticed. His thoughts were already on the mountain of tasks ahead.

    At the edge of the square, a member of the royal council stood waiting for him, his fine robes standing out amidst the simpler attire of the festival workers. Councilman Arden was a portly man with a polished demeanor and a reputation for opportunism. His eyes lit up as Alex approached, and he offered a deep bow, the movement more theatrical than necessary.

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± Arden said with an exaggerated flourish. ¡°A pleasure as always.¡±

    ¡°Councilman,¡± Alex replied with a polite nod, though his smile didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. He could already feel a lecture¡ªor worse, a favor¡ªbrewing. ¡°How can I help?¡±

    ¡°Ah, ever the diligent prince,¡± Arden said with a chuckle, his tone oily. ¡°I simply wished to commend you on the splendid progress here. The festival will surely be one to remember under your watchful eye.¡±

    Alex¡¯s eyebrow twitched at the overly saccharine praise. ¡°The credit belongs to the people working hard to make it happen,¡± he replied smoothly. ¡°I¡¯m just here to ensure things go as planned.¡±

    ¡°Of course, of course,¡± Arden said, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°But your presence is invaluable, Your Highness. Speaking of presence¡­¡± He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping conspiratorially. ¡°I was hoping you might grace my humble manor with a visit this evening. A quiet dinner, a chance to unwind after your busy day. My family would be delighted.¡±

    Alex¡¯s eyes narrowed subtly. He knew where this was going. Arden¡¯s family was infamous for parading their daughters before the royal princes, each introduction dripping with unsubtle intention. Both Jackson and Damien had been subjected to these thinly veiled attempts at matchmaking, and now it seemed Alex was the next target.

    ¡°That¡¯s kind of you, Councilman,¡± Alex said, his tone light but with an edge of detachment. ¡°But I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve already committed myself to reviewing the festival grounds this evening. There¡¯s still much to oversee.¡±

    Arden¡¯s smile faltered slightly, though he quickly recovered. ¡°Oh, surely the festival can spare you for an hour or two? My daughters would be thrilled to meet such a distinguished guest.¡±

    Alex resisted the urge to sigh. ¡°I appreciate the invitation, but my duties come first,¡± he said firmly, a trace of finality in his voice. He stepped back slightly, putting more distance between them. ¡°Perhaps another time.¡±

    Arden¡¯s expression tightened, though he plastered on another smile. ¡°Of course, Your Highness. Another time, then.¡±

    Alex offered a polite nod, already stepping away. ¡°Good day, Councilman.¡±

    Alexander left the bustling market square with a mixture of relief and frustration. The vibrant energy of the festival preparations¡ªthe merchants calling out their wares, the workers stringing colorful banners, the occasional sound of children¡¯s laughter¡ªfaded behind him as he wove through the stone streets of the capital. The encounter with Councilman Arden still nagged at him, the man¡¯s persistence in flaunting his daughters both amusing and irritating.

    ¡°Dinner at his manor,¡± Alex muttered to himself, shaking his head. ¡°As if I couldn¡¯t see right through that.¡±

    He adjusted his pace, nodding absently at the occasional soldier or servant who greeted him along the way. The castle loomed ahead, its tall spires catching the afternoon sunlight, a reminder of both his heritage and the responsibilities that came with it. For all the excitement of the festival and the energy of the city, there was something grounding about the familiarity of the palace walls.

    Passing through the gates, Alex greeted the guards with a casual wave, their respectful bows met with his usual easy demeanor. Inside the courtyard, he paused for a moment, glancing up at the grand structure before him. The weight of his father¡¯s expectations and the comparison to his brothers tugged faintly at the back of his mind, but he pushed the thoughts aside. There was no point dwelling on them now.

    Instead of heading to his chambers or back to the festival grounds, Alex turned down a quieter corridor, his steps leading him instinctively toward the throne room. After dealing with Arden¡¯s ploys, a conversation with his father seemed like just the reprieve he needed.

    The heavy oak doors to the throne room stood slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of light to spill into the hallway. Alex pushed them open gently, stepping inside. The room was quieter than usual, the absence of court proceedings lending it an almost serene air. At the far end, seated on the intricately carved throne, was his father.

    The king wasn¡¯t wearing his crown, and his regal robes were replaced by a simpler tunic and cloak, a sight that never failed to make Alex smile. It was a reminder that beneath the grandeur of his title, the man who ruled the kingdom was, first and foremost, a father.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Planning on running the kingdom in silence today, Father?¡± Alex quipped as he approached.

    The king looked up from the parchment in his hand, his face breaking into a warm smile. ¡°Alexander,¡± he greeted, setting the paper aside. ¡°What brings you here? Shouldn¡¯t you be out overseeing the festival?¡±

    Alex shrugged, stopping at the base of the dais and leaning casually against the arm of the throne. ¡°I was, until Councilman Arden cornered me. He tried to invite me to dinner at his manor.¡± He smirked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m sure you can guess why.¡±

    The king chuckled, the sound deep and genuine. ¡°Arden and his daughters again, I presume?¡±

    ¡°The very same,¡± Alex said, rolling his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m starting to think he¡¯s determined to pair off every royal in the family.¡±

    His father laughed, shaking his head. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong. He tried the same with Jackson and Damien, though neither of them lasted long enough for a second invitation.¡±

    Alex grinned at the thought, imagining Jackson¡¯s fiery retorts or Damien¡¯s calm but decisive refusals. ¡°Well, I think it¡¯s safe to say I won¡¯t be breaking the streak.¡±

    The king¡¯s laughter faded into a fond smile, his eyes softening as he studied his youngest son. ¡°You¡¯ve always had a way of avoiding what doesn¡¯t suit you, Alex. Though I¡¯m sure Arden¡¯s persistence won¡¯t be deterred.¡±

    Alex shrugged. ¡°He¡¯ll have to find someone else to charm. I¡¯ve got enough to handle with this festival as it is.¡±

    For a moment, the room fell into a comfortable silence, the bond between father and son palpable. The king leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the arms of the throne. ¡°You know, your mother would have loved to see you like this¡ªconfident, capable, holding your own.¡±

    Alex¡¯s smile faltered slightly, a flicker of sadness crossing his features. ¡°I wish I could¡¯ve known her,¡± he said softly. ¡°Everything I hear about her makes me feel like I missed something incredible.¡±

    The king nodded, his expression bittersweet. ¡°She was incredible. And she would have been so proud of you. Of all of you.¡±

    Alex looked away for a moment, his fingers idly tracing the ornate carvings on the throne¡¯s arm. ¡°It¡¯s hard not to feel like I¡¯m always catching up to Jackson and Damien,¡± he admitted, his voice quieter now. ¡°They¡¯re out there, doing what matters, and I¡¯m here planning a festival.¡±

    The king stood, stepping down from the throne to place a hand on Alex¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t diminish your role, Alexander,¡± he said firmly. ¡°Every task, no matter how small it seems, is vital to this kingdom. And never forget¡ªyou¡¯ve always been the heart of this family. You may not have known your mother, but her spirit lives on in you.¡±

    Alex glanced up, meeting his father¡¯s gaze. The sincerity in his words was enough to ease the weight that had been pressing on him all day. He straightened, offering a faint smile. ¡°Thank you, Father.¡±

    The king returned the smile, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. ¡°Now, go on. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s plenty of work still waiting for you.¡±

    Alex chuckled, pushing off the throne. ¡°There always is. But if Arden shows up, I¡¯m hiding in here.¡±

    The king laughed, waving him off. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to send him your way.¡±

    Alexander exited the throne room, the weight of his father¡¯s words settling in his chest like a warm ember. He¡¯d never doubted his father¡¯s love or support, but hearing it in such clear terms always grounded him. His brothers had their missions, their grand adventures, but he had his own responsibilities, even if they were closer to home. His steps quickened as he made his way back toward the market square, a renewed determination in his stride.

    The festival grounds were buzzing with even more energy now, as workers rushed to hang banners, arrange tables, and organize goods for the evening events. Alex¡¯s sharp eyes swept over the preparations, spotting areas where things seemed disorganized. A group of merchants argued near a stall that had collapsed under the weight of too many crates, and he could see that the stage for the opening ceremony was behind schedule.

    He rolled up his sleeves, stepping into the fray without hesitation.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get this sorted,¡± Alex said, his voice cutting through the commotion as he approached the collapsed stall. The merchants turned, startled to see the prince, and immediately began bowing and stammering apologies.

    Alex waved them off. ¡°Save it. What happened?¡±

    One of the merchants, a stout man with a flushed face, gestured to the pile of crates. ¡°Too many goods, Your Highness. We tried to stack them, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stacking heavy barrels on light ones was a poor idea,¡± Alex interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. ¡°Let¡¯s not waste time arguing. Everyone grab something and move it to the adjacent stall. Spread the weight evenly this time.¡±

    The merchants hesitated, but Alex had already bent to lift a crate himself. Seeing their prince working alongside them spurred them into action, and soon the stall was cleared and set up properly.

    From there, Alex moved to the stage, where carpenters and laborers were racing to finish their work. He climbed the steps and began organizing their efforts, assigning tasks with quick precision. Under his direction, the stage started coming together faster, and by the time the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the grounds were bustling with an almost celebratory energy.

    Alex stepped back, dusting his hands and surveying the progress with a satisfied nod. ¡°That¡¯s more like it,¡± he muttered to himself.

    As he turned to leave, intending to check on the food stalls, his gaze caught on a small group of women walking through the market. They were chatting animatedly, their laughter carrying over the noise of the crowd. One of them, in particular, stood out¡ªa young woman with flowing dark hair, the sunlight catching in her curls as she turned to speak to her companions.

    Alex¡¯s heart skipped a beat. It was Raina.

    He watched as she stopped at a stall selling fabric, her delicate fingers brushing over bolts of brightly colored cloth. The other women¡ªlikely friends or family¡ªlingered nearby, admiring the wares. Raina¡¯s laugh drifted over the crowd again, light and unguarded, and Alex found himself smiling despite himself.

    He hesitated for a moment, then started toward her. She didn¡¯t notice him at first, too engrossed in her conversation with the merchant. It wasn¡¯t until he was only a few steps away that she glanced up, her laughter fading as her eyes met his.

    For a moment, neither of them spoke. Raina¡¯s expression shifted from surprise to something unreadable, and Alex felt the now-familiar pull he couldn¡¯t quite explain. He cleared his throat, offering a small smile. ¡°It seems we meet again.¡±

    Raina blinked, then straightened, brushing her hands against her skirts as if to compose herself. ¡°Your Highness,¡± she said, dipping into a polite curtsy. Her tone was formal, but her eyes held a flicker of curiosity. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting to see you here.¡±

    Alex chuckled, gesturing to the bustling market around them. ¡°I think the better question is how you expected to avoid me with half the city out preparing for the festival.¡±

    Raina¡¯s lips twitched, though she quickly suppressed the smile. ¡°Fair point.¡±

    The women she had been with were watching the exchange from a distance, their whispering and occasional giggles making it clear they had noticed the prince¡¯s attention. Raina glanced at them, her expression turning faintly exasperated. ¡°I should¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let me keep you,¡± Alex said quickly, though his smile didn¡¯t falter. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to disrupt your shopping.¡±

    Raina hesitated, then gave him a small nod. ¡°Enjoy the festival preparations, Your Highness.¡±

    As she turned to leave, Alex felt a pang of disappointment. He stepped back, watching as she rejoined her group and disappeared into the crowd. But just before she was completely out of sight, she glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his one last time. The faintest hint of a smile played on her lips before she vanished into the throng.

    Alex stood there for a moment, the noise and bustle of the market fading to a dull hum. A soft nudge at his side drew his attention, and he looked down to see a child tugging at his sleeve, holding out a flower.

    ¡°For the nice prince,¡± the child said, beaming up at him.

    Alex took the flower with a bemused smile, tucking it into the belt of his tunic as he turned back to the market.

 Chapter four

    The griffon¡¯s wings beat steadily as Damien neared the sprawling city of Leafan. From above, the view was breathtaking¡ªa quilt of lush vineyards stretching across rolling hills, interspersed with stone houses crowned with terracotta roofs. The river snaked through the heart of the city, reflecting the late afternoon sun like a ribbon of silver. It had been eight years since Damien last visited, but the sight of the city stirred a bittersweet nostalgia within him.

    As his griffon descended into the manor¡¯s courtyard, servants and stable hands hurried to make room for the majestic creature. Its golden feathers gleamed in the fading light, and its piercing eyes surveyed the new surroundings before folding its wings neatly. Damien dismounted, smoothing a hand over its flank in silent thanks.

    ¡°Damien!¡±

    The voice was unmistakable. Turning, Damien saw his uncle, Elric, striding across the courtyard. The older man¡¯s face was lined with age, but his gait was strong and his arms open wide. Before Damien could speak, Elric pulled him into a bear hug, clapping him hard on the back.

    ¡°Eight years is far too long,¡± Elric said, his voice rich with emotion. ¡°Look at you¡ªstrong as an ox. Your mother would be so proud.¡±

    ¡°Uncle,¡± Damien replied, his voice steady but warm, ¡°it¡¯s good to see you.¡±

    Elric stepped back, his eyes gleaming as he looked Damien over. ¡°You¡¯re the spitting image of her, you know. The same calm presence. Though I¡¯ll bet you inherited that stubborn streak of hers too.¡±

    Damien allowed himself a small smile. ¡°You always said it was our best trait.¡±

    Elric laughed heartily, throwing an arm over Damien¡¯s shoulders and steering him toward the manor¡¯s entrance. ¡°Come, your cousins will never forgive me if I don¡¯t bring you inside. They¡¯ve been waiting all day to see you.¡±

    Inside, the manor smelled of aged wood, herbs, and the faint sweetness of wine. Damien glanced around as they entered, taking in the familiar architecture. Though the details were the same¡ªthe intricate carvings on the beams, the soft tapestries on the walls¡ªthere were signs of change. New portraits hung alongside the older ones, and the sound of youthful laughter echoed through the halls.

    As they entered the main sitting room, a group of children came barreling in, their energy palpable. The first two skidded to a halt when they saw Damien, their wide eyes taking in his tall frame and royal bearing. The older girl curtsied quickly, while the younger boy bowed so low he nearly toppled forward.

    ¡°Welcome, Your Highness,¡± the girl said, her voice small but polite.

    Damien crouched to their level, his calm eyes softening. ¡°There¡¯s no need for that,¡± he said gently. ¡°You¡¯re family. Treat me like it.¡±

    The girl hesitated, exchanging a glance with her brother, before offering a shy smile. ¡°Does that mean we can ask you about your griffon?¡± the boy piped up, his excitement bubbling over.

    Damien chuckled, rising to his full height. ¡°It does,¡± he said, ruffling the boy¡¯s hair. ¡°But first, where are the others?¡±

    As if on cue, more family members filtered into the room¡ªcousins, aunts, and uncles¡ªeach eager to greet him. Though Damien was never one for crowds, he found himself relaxing as familiar faces surrounded him, their warmth easing the tension from his long journey.

    Later, after the initial reunion, Damien stepped out onto the manor¡¯s balcony to take in the city below. The setting sun cast a golden glow over the vineyards and cobblestone streets, and the sounds of Leafan drifted up to him¡ªthe hum of merchants in the marketplace, the chatter of townsfolk, the occasional burst of laughter from children playing near the river.

    He decided to venture out, the pull of the city too strong to ignore. Descending the manor¡¯s steps, he walked through the gates and into the heart of Leafan. The streets felt both familiar and new. The main square, where his mother had once taken him to browse the stalls, was now larger, bustling with more merchants and vibrant colors. A new bridge spanned the river, its arches sleek and modern, though it blended seamlessly with the older structures.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    As he passed through the marketplace, the townsfolk recognized him instantly. Their reactions varied¡ªsome paused to bow deeply, while others smiled warmly, recalling fond memories of his mother.

    ¡°She was a light to this city,¡± an older woman said, her hands trembling slightly as she clasped them in front of her. ¡°And you carry that light, young prince. Just like her.¡±

    Damien inclined his head, his voice low but sincere. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Children darted past him, their laughter a bright counterpoint to the gentle hum of the market. He paused to watch them, a faint smile tugging at his lips. For a moment, he was a boy again, running through these very streets with his cousins, his mother¡¯s laughter ringing in his ears.

    <b>A Quiet Evening with Elric</b>

    As the day gave way to twilight, Damien returned to the manor. His uncle waited for him in the study, a warm fire crackling in the hearth. The room smelled faintly of pipe smoke and aged wine, the shelves lined with books and artifacts Damien remembered from his childhood.

    Elric rose as Damien entered, gesturing to a seat by the fire. ¡°Come, sit,¡± he said. ¡°We have much to talk about.¡±

    Damien nodded, settling into the chair. He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. ¡°Tell me what¡¯s been happening,¡± he said, his tone calm but resolute. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have asked for me to come here if it wasn¡¯t serious.¡±

    Elric sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. ¡°You¡¯re right. I wouldn¡¯t have. Things have been¡­ troubling lately.¡±

    ¡°Troubling how?¡± Damien pressed.

    ¡°It started small,¡± Elric explained, his brow furrowing. ¡°A few disputes among the vineyard owners. Petty thefts, easily dismissed. But recently, it¡¯s escalated¡ªraids on the outskirts of the city, strange visitors asking too many questions. It feels calculated, as if someone is probing for weakness.¡±

    Damien¡¯s jaw tightened, his expression darkening. ¡°Have you identified who¡¯s behind it?¡±

    Elric shook his head. ¡°Not yet. Whoever they are, they strike quickly and vanish without a trace. But the attacks are growing bolder. If we don¡¯t act soon, I fear Leafan will no longer be the peaceful city your mother cherished.¡±

    The mention of his mother hit Damien like a stone, but he masked it with a calm nod. ¡°Then we¡¯ll stop them,¡± he said firmly. ¡°Whatever it takes.¡±

    Elric studied him for a moment, a flicker of pride in his eyes. ¡°I knew you¡¯d say that. It¡¯s good to have you here, Damien.¡±

    The fire crackled softly as the weight of Elric¡¯s words settled between them. Damien leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes fixed on the flames. Beyond the immediate danger, he could sense an undercurrent of fear¡ªnot just for Leafan, but for what these attacks might mean for the kingdom as a whole.

    ¡°You¡¯ve always had a knack for reading the undercurrents, Damien,¡± Elric said, breaking the silence. He poured two glasses of wine from a decanter on the side table, handing one to Damien. ¡°Tell me, what do you think this is about?¡±

    Damien accepted the glass, swirling it absently as he considered the question. ¡°If these raids are as calculated as they seem, then this isn¡¯t about theft,¡± he said, his voice low but certain. ¡°This is probing. Testing defenses. Whoever is behind it isn¡¯t after the vineyards¡ªthey¡¯re after control.¡±

    Elric¡¯s brow furrowed, his face lined with worry. ¡°Control of Leafan? Or something more?¡±

    Damien took a sip of the wine, letting the silence stretch. ¡°It could be either,¡± he admitted. ¡°Or both. Leafan holds sway over the kingdom¡¯s trade routes. If someone were to destabilize it, the effects would ripple outward.¡±

    Elric nodded grimly. ¡°And with the Harvest Festival drawing attention to the capital, it¡¯s the perfect time to strike elsewhere.¡±

    Damien¡¯s jaw tightened. The Festival. His youngest brother, Alex, was still in the capital, handling the event. He couldn¡¯t shake the thought that these incidents were connected somehow¡ªpart of a larger plan. But without proof, it was just a suspicion, one he couldn¡¯t act on yet.

    Their conversation was interrupted by a soft knock at the study door. A servant entered, bowing briefly before handing a sealed letter to Elric. ¡°This arrived just now, my lord,¡± she said before exiting as quickly as she came.

    Elric broke the seal, his eyes scanning the contents quickly. His expression darkened as he passed the letter to Damien. ¡°You should read this.¡±

    Damien took the parchment, his eyes narrowing as he read. The message was short, but the implications were clear:

    <i>¡°Another raid reported on the outskirts. A group of riders, well-armed and coordinated. The local watch was overwhelmed, and the attackers vanished without a trace. Signs point to an organized force, not common thieves.¡±</i>

    Damien folded the letter neatly, placing it on the desk. ¡°This confirms it,¡± he said. ¡°Whoever is behind this knows exactly what they¡¯re doing.¡±

    Elric nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll need to strengthen the patrols, especially along the outer vineyards. I¡¯ll send word to the watch in the morning.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Damien said firmly. ¡°We¡¯ll send word tonight. If they¡¯re striking at night, we can¡¯t afford to delay.¡±

    Elric looked at him for a moment, then nodded. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯ll see to it.¡±

    The urgency of the moment didn¡¯t stop Damien from taking a late-night walk through the manor grounds. The moon hung low in the sky, casting its silvery light over the vineyards and cobblestone paths. His boots crunched softly on the gravel as he wandered, his thoughts heavy.

    He found himself drawn to the old garden at the edge of the manor. It was overgrown now, the flowers wild and untamed, but the stone bench in the center remained. He sat there, letting the quiet of the night wash over him.

    This had been his mother¡¯s favorite place. He could still picture her sitting on this very bench, her laughter ringing out as she watched her children chase each other through the flowers. The memory was so vivid it almost hurt.

    Damien rested his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together. ¡°I¡¯ll protect it,¡± he murmured, the words barely audible. ¡°All of it. Just like you would¡¯ve.¡±

    A soft rustling behind him drew his attention, and he turned to see one of his younger cousins standing hesitantly at the edge of the garden.

    ¡°Uncle Elric said you might be out here,¡± the boy said, his voice quiet but steady. ¡°I¡­ I wanted to give you this.¡±

    He held out a small, carefully folded piece of parchment. Damien took it, unfolding it to reveal a child¡¯s drawing of a griffon and a knight, standing side by side under a bright sun. The lines were uneven, and the proportions were off, but the effort was clear.

    ¡°I made it for you,¡± the boy said, shuffling his feet. ¡°Because you¡¯re like a knight. You¡¯ll protect us, right?¡±

    Damien stared at the drawing for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he crouched down, placing a hand on the boy¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I will,¡± he said firmly. ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry. I¡¯ll keep you all safe.¡±

    The boy¡¯s face lit up with a smile, and he darted off toward the manor, leaving Damien alone in the garden once more. He folded the drawing carefully, tucking it into his tunic as he rose.

    The lights of Leafan glimmered in the distance, and the weight of responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders. But in that moment, standing under the moonlight with the promise of protection on his lips, Damien knew he wouldn¡¯t falter.

 Chapter five

    The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the bustling festival grounds. Stalls lined the main square, their canopies a kaleidoscope of colors fluttering in the gentle breeze. Workers scurried about, hoisting banners, adjusting decorations, and hauling crates of supplies. The hum of chatter mixed with the occasional clatter of tools, creating a symphony of organized chaos.

    In the center of it all stood Alexander, his sharp eyes scanning the scene with practiced focus. Though his royal attire had been replaced with a simpler tunic and breeches, the commanding air he carried left no doubt about who was in charge.

    ¡°Careful with that!¡± Alex called out, his voice cutting cleanly through the din. A pair of workers struggling with a heavy wooden beam paused, glancing toward him. ¡°Shift your grip¡ªleft hand higher, right lower. There you go. Now lift on three.¡±

    The men adjusted their positions, and with a concerted effort, they hoisted the beam into place. Alex nodded in approval before turning his attention to another group. Nearby, a vendor was frantically gesturing at a pile of overturned crates, his face flushed with frustration.

    ¡°Your Highness!¡± the man called, rushing toward him. ¡°These crates were supposed to go to the food stalls, but they¡¯ve been left here for hours! I don¡¯t even know¡ª¡±

    Alex raised a hand, cutting him off with a calm but firm tone. ¡°Take a breath,¡± he said. ¡°Where are the workers assigned to your stall?¡±

    ¡°They were redirected to help with the stage setup,¡± the vendor replied, his voice tight.

    Alex glanced toward the stage at the far end of the square, where a small group of workers was scrambling to finish the platform. ¡°I¡¯ll handle it,¡± he said. ¡°Go back to your stall and prepare the rest of your supplies.¡±

    The vendor hesitated, then bowed quickly. ¡°Thank you, Your Highness.¡±

    Alex signaled to a pair of nearby guards. ¡°You two, help move those crates to the food stalls. Make sure they¡¯re secured and organized by type. And tell the workers at the stage that they have twenty minutes to finish¡ªI¡¯ll check on them personally.¡±

    The guards nodded and set to work without hesitation. Alex¡¯s gaze swept the square once more, noting a slight sag in one of the central banners. He strode over to a young worker who was tying off the ropes. ¡°You need to tighten the left side more,¡± Alex said, pointing to the uneven edge. ¡°Here¡ªlet me show you.¡±

    The young man blinked, startled at first, but quickly handed over the rope. Alex adjusted the knot with practiced ease, securing the banner until it hung evenly. ¡°There. Now tie it off,¡± he said, stepping back. ¡°Good work.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Your Highness,¡± the worker stammered, his face lighting up with pride.

    As the preparations neared completion, Alex paused at the edge of the square, letting his gaze wander over the transformed space. The festival grounds were coming together beautifully. Vibrant ribbons crisscrossed overhead, colorful lanterns hung from tall poles, and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air.

    He allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction. The Harvest Festival wasn¡¯t just an event¡ªit was a celebration of the kingdom¡¯s unity and prosperity, a chance for the people to come together and enjoy the fruits of their labor. Alex knew the importance of his role in making it all happen, and despite the long hours, he took pride in ensuring everything was perfect.

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± a voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned to see a young maid carrying a tray of water. She dipped her head shyly. ¡°You¡¯ve been at it all morning. Please, take a moment to rest.¡±

    Alex smiled faintly, accepting a cup from the tray. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, his tone kind. He drank deeply, the cool water refreshing after hours in the sun. Handing the cup back, he added, ¡°You¡¯ve been working just as hard. Make sure you take a break too.¡±

    The maid¡¯s cheeks flushed as she nodded quickly. ¡°Of course, Your Highness.¡±

    As she walked away, Alex rolled his shoulders, the weight of the day starting to creep in. But the sight of the workers finishing their tasks, the square slowly transforming into a space of beauty and celebration, made it all worthwhile.

    He adjusted his sleeves, squaring his shoulders. There was still more to do, but for now, the festival was in good hands.

    -----------

    After hours of overseeing the festival preparations, Alex made his way to the castle¡¯s training grounds, eager for a change of pace. The familiar clang of steel against steel and the sharp calls of trainers filled the air, a comforting backdrop to the disciplined chaos of soldiers honing their skills.

    He stepped onto the field, the ground packed firm beneath his boots. The soldiers paused briefly, their heads turning as they noticed his arrival. A few exchanged looks, grinning, before returning to their drills. Alex¡¯s presence on the training grounds was far from unusual; though he was a prince, he often joined the men to train, valuing the camaraderie and physical release the sessions provided.

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± one of the captains called, striding over with a respectful nod. ¡°What brings you here today? Not that we¡¯re ever surprised.¡±

    Alex smirked, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension from the day. ¡°Just need to shake off some of the festival stress,¡± he said, his tone light. ¡°Thought I¡¯d see if anyone was up for a match.¡±

    The captain¡¯s eyes gleamed with good-natured challenge. ¡°You¡¯ll find no shortage of willing opponents, I¡¯m sure. The men always love a chance to test themselves against you.¡±

    Alex chuckled, his fingers already working to loosen his tunic. He stepped aside, shrugging it off and rolling up his sleeves, revealing the lean, wiry strength beneath. ¡°Let¡¯s see if they¡¯re up to it.¡±

    A circle formed quickly, soldiers setting down their weapons to watch the impromptu match. A young guard, eager and bright-eyed, stepped forward first. He saluted, drawing his sword. ¡°I¡¯d be honored to spar with you, Your Highness.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Alex inclined his head, picking up a wooden practice sword from a nearby rack. He tested its weight, twirling it deftly in his hand before stepping into position. ¡°Don¡¯t hold back,¡± he said, his grin both encouraging and mischievous.

    The first clash of wood on wood sent a ripple of excitement through the gathered soldiers. The young guard lunged, his strikes swift but telegraphed. Alex dodged gracefully, sidestepping and deflecting with ease. His movements were fluid, almost effortless, but there was no arrogance in his demeanor¡ªonly focus and precision.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got the speed,¡± Alex commented, parrying a strike and pivoting to the side. ¡°But you¡¯re committing too early. Watch your footing.¡±

    The guard adjusted quickly, trying to follow Alex¡¯s advice, but the prince¡¯s experience outmatched him. With a quick feint, Alex disarmed his opponent, the wooden sword clattering to the ground. He stepped back, offering a hand to the soldier with a nod of approval.

    ¡°Well fought,¡± Alex said as the man stood, panting but grinning. ¡°Keep working on your footwork, and you¡¯ll be a force to reckon with.¡±

    Another soldier stepped forward, then another, the matches growing more intense as Alex faced more seasoned opponents. The circle around him grew louder, the men cheering and exchanging bets on who might land a hit on the prince. Alex¡¯s laughter rang out as he dodged a particularly wild swing, his reflexes sharp despite the long day.

    ¡°You¡¯re getting slow, Your Highness,¡± one of the older soldiers teased from the sidelines.

    ¡°Careful,¡± Alex shot back, blocking a strike and pivoting to counter. ¡°I might have to make you my next opponent.¡±

    The crowd erupted in laughter, and even the soldier in question grinned, raising his hands in mock surrender. ¡°Not today, Your Highness. My pride couldn¡¯t take the beating.¡±

    Alex finally stepped back after another victory, handing off his practice sword and accepting a flask of water from one of the men. ¡°You¡¯re all improving,¡± he said, his tone genuine. ¡°The training¡¯s paying off.¡±

    One of the soldiers clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture of camaraderie rather than formality. ¡°You¡¯re too kind, Your Highness. But it¡¯s not every day we get to train with someone who actually fights like one of us.¡±

    Alex raised the flask in a mock toast, his smile easy. ¡°That¡¯s because I am one of you.¡±

    As the matches ended and the men returned to their drills, Alex leaned against the railing at the edge of the grounds, catching his breath. His body ached pleasantly, the exertion burning away the stress of the day. Watching the soldiers practice, he felt a sense of pride¡ªnot just in their skill, but in their loyalty and dedication.

    This was where he felt most himself¡ªnot as a prince weighed down by titles and expectations, but as a man among equals. The training grounds were a sanctuary, a place where he could push his limits and connect with those who served the kingdom alongside him.

    The moment was interrupted by a footman approaching, bowing low. ¡°Your Highness,¡± the man said, his tone formal but urgent. ¡°The king requests your presence in the throne room.¡±

    Alex straightened, brushing the dust from his sleeves. ¡°Did he say why?¡±

    The footman shook his head. ¡°Only that it¡¯s a matter requiring your immediate attention.¡±

    Alex nodded, his expression shifting from relaxed to focused. ¡°Very well. I¡¯ll go at once.¡±

    The clatter of swords and the distant calls of training soldiers faded behind Alex as he made his way through the castle halls. His boots struck a steady rhythm against the stone floor, his pace unhurried but purposeful. The echoes of sparring still coursed through his veins, a pleasant hum of adrenaline that sharpened his focus. The footman who had summoned him followed a step behind, his head bowed slightly, the weight of the message evident in his demeanor.

    The grand doors of the throne room came into view, flanked by two sentries who snapped to attention at Alex¡¯s approach. He gave them a nod, pushing the heavy doors open without hesitation. The familiar sight of the throne room greeted him¡ªa cavernous space filled with ornate tapestries, polished stone, and the faint scent of incense.

    At the far end of the room, seated on the raised dais, was the king. His father¡¯s expression was calm but serious, his piercing gaze sweeping over Alex as he entered. To the left of the throne stood a councilman¡ªLord Reiman, a man whose presence always seemed to carry an air of veiled antagonism. The councilman¡¯s lips curved into a faint, tight smile as Alex approached, but the hidden contempt in his eyes was unmistakable.

    Alex felt his own posture stiffen slightly. Whatever this was about, Reiman¡¯s involvement meant it would be anything but straightforward.

    ¡°Father,¡± Alex greeted, stopping a respectful distance from the dais and bowing briefly. ¡°You requested me?¡±

    The king inclined his head, his tone measured but warm. ¡°Yes, Alexander. There¡¯s a matter that has been brought to my attention.¡±

    Reiman stepped forward slightly, his expression the picture of feigned concern. ¡°Your Highness,¡± he began, addressing Alex directly, ¡°it seems there have been¡­ complaints regarding your interactions with the people.¡±

    Alex raised an eyebrow, glancing between his father and the councilman. ¡°Complaints?¡± he echoed, his tone steady but laced with skepticism.

    The king leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the armrests of the throne. ¡°Lord Reiman claims that members of the public have come to the council, stating that you¡¯ve been harsh or dismissive in your dealings with them.¡±

    The accusation hung in the air, and Alex caught the faintest glint of amusement in Reiman¡¯s eyes. It was a calculated move¡ªan attempt to undermine him under the guise of concern.

    Alex straightened, his voice calm but edged with steel. ¡°I find that hard to believe, Father. I¡¯ve done nothing but ensure the festival preparations are running smoothly. If anyone was dissatisfied, they¡¯ve made no effort to speak to me directly.¡±

    Reiman¡¯s tight smile widened slightly. ¡°Of course, Your Highness. But not everyone feels comfortable approaching royalty with their grievances. That is why the council exists¡ªto be the voice of the people.¡±

    Alex¡¯s gaze sharpened, his mind racing. He knew Reiman¡¯s game. This wasn¡¯t about any real complaints¡ªit was about planting seeds of doubt, chipping away at Alex¡¯s reputation.

    The king¡¯s expression remained neutral, though there was a glint in his eyes that told Alex he wasn¡¯t convinced by Reiman¡¯s words. Still, the matter had to be addressed.

    ¡°Are you certain the complaints weren¡¯t about you, Lord Reiman?¡± Alex asked, his tone cool but cutting. ¡°After all, I recall seeing you yesterday, kicking a servant who dared to continue working instead of bowing as you passed.¡±

    Reiman¡¯s composure faltered for a fraction of a second, his lips thinning as he scoffed. ¡°I assure you, Your Highness, that incident was taken entirely out of context.¡±

    Alex tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°I¡¯m sure it was.¡±

    The king raised a hand, his voice calm but commanding. ¡°Enough. Alexander, you¡¯ve made your point. Lord Reiman, if there are legitimate complaints, let those who have them come forward directly. Until then, this matter is closed.¡±

    Reiman opened his mouth as if to protest but thought better of it. Bowing stiffly, he stepped back into the shadows, his expression darkening.

    Alex turned back to his father, inclining his head respectfully. ¡°Thank you, Father. If there¡¯s anything more you need, I¡¯m always available.¡±

    The king¡¯s lips curved into a faint smile, his gaze lingering on Alex for a moment before he nodded. ¡°That will be all for now.¡±

    As Alex exited the throne room, the tension in his shoulders eased, but his mind remained sharp. Reiman¡¯s machinations were becoming more brazen, and while Alex had deflected the attack for now, he knew the councilman wouldn¡¯t give up so easily.

    Still, he couldn¡¯t help but feel a flicker of satisfaction at the look on Reiman¡¯s face. As much as he loathed politics, he wasn¡¯t about to let anyone question his integrity without a fight.

    He strode back toward the castle halls, his thoughts already turning to the tasks that awaited him. There was still work to be done, and Alex had no intention of letting petty scheming distract him from his duties.

 Chapter six

    The sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange glow over the rolling hills surrounding Leafan. The gentle breeze carried the faint smell of charred wood and disturbed earth, a stark reminder of the recent chaos that had struck the outskirts of the once-peaceful city. Damien strode through the fields with measured steps, his sharp eyes scanning every inch of the terrain for signs of the attackers.

    The damage was worse than he had expected. Sections of crops had been burned to ash, their blackened remains stretching across the soil like scars. Broken fences leaned haphazardly, the wood splintered and jagged as though torn apart by brute force. Nearby, a small shed lay in ruins, its contents¡ªa few empty barrels and tools¡ªscattered and trampled.

    A group of farmers stood at a distance, watching Damien silently as he moved. Their expressions ranged from hopeful to wary, their faith in the prince tempered by the reality of their plight. Damien offered them a nod of acknowledgment before crouching near a pile of scorched earth.

    Damien ran his fingers lightly over the charred remains of a fence post, his brow furrowed in thought. The burn patterns were uneven, as though the fire had been deliberate but not expertly controlled. His mind raced, piecing together what he knew. This wasn¡¯t the work of random raiders¡ªthese attacks were too calculated, too focused on disrupting the city¡¯s resources.

    He stood, his gaze sweeping the horizon. ¡°No tracks,¡± he muttered under his breath. ¡°No footprints, no wagon marks. Nothing to indicate where they came from or where they went.¡±

    One of the soldiers accompanying him stepped forward, his face grim. ¡°It¡¯s like they disappeared into thin air, Your Highness. We¡¯ve searched every inch of the area, but they left no trace.¡±

    Damien exhaled sharply, frustration building in his chest. The attackers were elusive, their methods precise and maddeningly efficient. They struck quickly, leaving just enough destruction to cause fear and chaos without exposing themselves.

    ¡°What about the livestock?¡± Damien asked, turning to the soldier. ¡°Any sign of where they were taken?¡±

    The soldier shook his head. ¡°None, my lord. Whatever they used to transport them, it didn¡¯t leave any marks we could follow.¡±

    Damien approached the group of farmers, his tone calm but direct. ¡°Tell me everything you saw,¡± he said, his gaze steady. ¡°Even the smallest detail could be important.¡±

    An older man stepped forward, his weathered face lined with worry. ¡°It was late at night,¡± he began. ¡°We heard the animals panicking first¡ªthe sheep and the cows. By the time we got outside, the fire had already started. We tried to put it out, but the attackers¡­ they were fast. Moving like shadows.¡±

    A younger farmer interjected, his hands fidgeting nervously. ¡°They didn¡¯t speak, Your Highness. Not a word. Just came through like ghosts, took what they wanted, and disappeared.¡±

    Damien¡¯s jaw tightened. Shadows. Ghosts. The descriptions were vague, but they reinforced the sense of precision behind these raids. Whoever was orchestrating this knew exactly how to strike fear while avoiding detection.

    As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the fields, Damien stood at the edge of the damaged land, his arms crossed. The frustration simmering within him was tempered by a growing determination. These attacks weren¡¯t random¡ªthey were deliberate acts meant to destabilize Leafan. And he wouldn¡¯t rest until he found out who was behind them.

    ¡°We¡¯ll increase patrols along the outskirts,¡± Damien said, his tone firm as he turned to the soldier. ¡°Double the watch at night. If they¡¯re moving like shadows, then we¡¯ll ensure there¡¯s no darkness for them to hide in.¡±

    The soldier nodded sharply. ¡°Yes, my lord.¡±

    Damien¡¯s gaze lingered on the horizon for a moment longer before he turned back toward the city. There were no immediate answers here, but he wouldn¡¯t let that deter him. If the attackers thought they could sow chaos in his mother¡¯s homeland without consequence, they were sorely mistaken.

    The sun¡¯s light was beginning to soften, casting a golden glow over the outskirts of Leafan. Damien walked alongside his younger cousin, Oran, a lively young man with a mischievous glint in his eye that always reminded Damien of their shared family. Oran had volunteered to accompany him on his patrols, eager to prove his worth despite Damien¡¯s insistence that it wasn¡¯t necessary.

    ¡°You¡¯re taking this far too seriously, cousin,¡± Oran teased, adjusting the strap of his satchel as they moved along the edge of a damaged field. ¡°If you keep scowling like that, the attackers might surrender out of sheer intimidation.¡±

    Damien arched an eyebrow but didn¡¯t respond, his attention focused on the terrain ahead. He was about to remind Oran of the gravity of the situation when a burst of laughter broke the quiet. The sound was unexpected¡ªjoyful and lighthearted, cutting through the somber atmosphere like a ray of sunlight through storm clouds.

    He stopped, his sharp gaze scanning the horizon. ¡°Do you hear that?¡±

    Oran grinned. ¡°Children. I¡¯d recognize that kind of chaos anywhere.¡±

    They followed the sound, moving toward a small clearing near the edge of the village. The sight that greeted them was a stark contrast to the grim destruction they had been surveying. A group of children were gathered in a rough circle, their laughter ringing out as they tossed a glowing ball of light between them. Each time the ball neared a player, it shifted direction, propelled by an invisible force.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Standing in the center of the group was a young woman with long auburn hair, her vibrant smile as radiant as the ball of energy. She raised a hand, sending a playful gust of wind that swept the ball away from one of the children and toward Oran.

    The ball zipped toward Oran with surprising speed, but he caught it deftly, his grin widening. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re not getting away that easily!¡± he called, throwing the ball back with a flick of his wrist. The glowing sphere soared back into the circle, the wind carrying it unpredictably.

    The young woman¡¯s eyes lit up as she spotted Oran. ¡°Well, look who it is! Oran, you¡¯re late to the game.¡±

    ¡°Had to bring someone along,¡± Oran said, jerking his thumb toward Damien. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t believe how serious he is about his patrols.¡±

    The woman turned her attention to Damien, her smile never wavering. ¡°And who might you be, oh serious one? Another cousin to join the fun?¡±

    Damien crossed his arms, his expression neutral but not unkind. ¡°I¡¯m just here to observe.¡±

    ¡°Oh no, that won¡¯t do,¡± she said, stepping closer and waving a hand dramatically. ¡°Rules of the game: everyone joins in.¡± With a sweep of her fingers, a playful gust of wind surged toward him, causing his cloak to billow. The children laughed as the ball rolled toward Damien¡¯s feet.

    Damien glanced down at the ball, then back at the woman, who stood with her hands on her hips, clearly daring him to participate. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. ¡°Fine,¡± he said, stepping forward and picking up the ball. ¡°But don¡¯t expect me to go easy on you.¡±

    He tossed the ball high into the air, raising a hand as the ground beneath him rumbled slightly. A subtle tremor sent the ball careening through the circle, zigzagging unpredictably. The children squealed with delight, scrambling to keep up with its erratic movements.

    ¡°Careful, everyone!¡± the woman called, her voice light and teasing. ¡°We¡¯ve got an earth elemental in the game now!¡±

    The game continued with renewed energy, the children cheering each time the ball changed direction. Damien found himself relaxing, the weight of his earlier frustration melting away as he moved with surprising ease among the group. Even the woman¡¯s boldness, which might have irritated him under different circumstances, seemed refreshing in the moment.

    The woman¡¯s laughter rang out as she sent the ball soaring toward Damien with a perfectly timed gust of wind. He caught it midair, his movements precise but unhurried. ¡°You¡¯re quite skilled,¡± he remarked, his tone even.

    She grinned, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ¡°And you¡¯re not as stiff as you look.¡±

    The children giggled, sensing the playful banter. Oran, meanwhile, watched with an amused expression, clearly enjoying the rare sight of his serious cousin letting his guard down.

    The game finally wound down as the sun dipped lower, the children scattering to their homes as their parents called them in for dinner. Damien stood near the edge of the clearing, his gaze lingering on the young woman as she gathered her belongings.

    ¡°You seem good with them,¡± Damien said, gesturing toward the departing children. The playful energy in the air lingered, though the clearing now felt quieter. ¡°Do you teach here?¡±

    She shook her head, brushing a loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear. The last rays of sunlight turned her hair to copper, casting a warm glow over her features. ¡°Not officially,¡± she replied. ¡°I just make sure they don¡¯t cause too much trouble.¡±

    ¡°And do you?¡± Damien asked, one brow lifting slightly, his tone carrying the faintest trace of humor.

    Her lips curved into a grin, and she tilted her head as if appraising him. ¡°Only when it¡¯s worth it.¡±

    Damien allowed himself a small, fleeting smile, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in a way that felt unfamiliar but not unwelcome. The exchange felt easy, almost disarmingly so.

    Oran cleared his throat, breaking the moment with a teasing grin. ¡°Well, now that you¡¯ve met her, cousin, I should probably mention¡ªthis is Talia.¡±

    Damien¡¯s eyes flicked toward Oran briefly before returning to the woman. She raised an eyebrow at the introduction, a playful glint in her gaze. ¡°And who is your mysterious cousin, Oran?¡±

    Damien extended his hand, his movements composed and deliberate, his expression calm and steady. ¡°Damien,¡± he said simply, the weight of his name left unsaid.

    Talia took his hand out of instinct, but as the name registered, her grip froze mid-shake. Her green eyes widened slightly, and she pulled back, studying him with a mix of curiosity and dawning realization. ¡°As in¡­ Prince Damien?¡± she asked, her voice dipping slightly in surprise.

    Oran¡¯s grin widened into a full smile. ¡°The one and only.¡±

    Talia blinked, her initial surprise quickly melting into a wry smile. ¡°Well, that explains the brooding,¡± she said, her tone teasing but not unkind. ¡°A prince, huh? You¡¯re not bad¡ªfor royalty.¡±

    Damien chuckled softly, a rare sound that surprised even him. ¡°And you¡¯re not bad¡ªfor someone who ambushed me with a ball.¡±

    Her laughter rang out again, light and unguarded. ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a compliment,¡± she said, crossing her arms and leaning slightly to one side. ¡°Though, to be fair, I didn¡¯t know you were royalty at the time. That might¡¯ve made me throw harder.¡±

    ¡°Noted,¡± Damien replied, the faintest glimmer of amusement lingering in his tone. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to wear armor next time.¡±

    Talia tilted her head, studying him with an open curiosity. ¡°So, Prince Damien, what brings you all the way out here? I didn¡¯t think royalty ventured into the outskirts much.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here to assess the damage from the recent attacks,¡± Damien said, his voice steady but laced with a hint of frustration. ¡°And to ensure it doesn¡¯t happen again.¡±

    Her smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of quiet understanding. ¡°It¡¯s bad, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Damien nodded. ¡°Worse than I expected. Whoever¡¯s behind this knows what they¡¯re doing.¡±

    Talia hesitated for a moment, then said, ¡°Well, if you need extra eyes out here, I know the area better than most. And the kids are excellent lookouts,¡± she added with a smirk, her playful demeanor returning.

    Damien studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind,¡± he said finally, though there was a faint warmth in his voice that hadn¡¯t been there before.

    As the conversation wound down, Talia began gathering her things, slinging a simple bag over her shoulder. ¡°Well, Your Highness,¡± she said, her voice light and teasing, ¡°it¡¯s been a pleasure ambushing you. If you¡¯re ever in the mood for another game, you know where to find me.¡±

    Damien inclined his head slightly. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind. But next time, don¡¯t expect me to hold back.¡±

    Talia¡¯s grin widened, and as she turned to leave, she glanced back over her shoulder. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dream of it.¡±

    Her laughter lingered in the air long after she disappeared down the path, leaving Damien standing in the clearing with Oran.

    ¡°You¡¯re smiling,¡± Oran said, his tone smug as he elbowed Damien lightly. ¡°Should I be worried?¡±

    Damien shook his head, the faintest hint of a smile still tugging at his lips. ¡°No,¡± he said simply, his gaze fixed on the direction Talia had gone. ¡°But maybe she should.¡±

    Oran laughed, clapping him on the back. ¡°I like her. She¡¯ll keep you on your toes.¡±

    As the evening settled, Damien watched Talia walk away, her laughter still echoing faintly in the distance. The moment had been a welcome reprieve from the grim reality of the day, but his mind was already turning back to the task at hand. Whatever peace Leafan had left, he intended to protect it.

 Chapter seven

    The sky darkened as Jackson guided Levin lower, the wind rushing past his face as they descended over the outskirts of Sebo. From above, the town was a scar on the landscape¡ªblackened fields stretching far beyond the walls, smoke still curling from distant ruins. What should have been a lively border town was now a patchwork of devastation, barely clinging to life.

    Jackson¡¯s grip tightened on Levin¡¯s reins, his knuckles pale against the worn leather. <i>I¡¯m too late.</i>

    The Pegasus gave a soft, reassuring snort as if sensing his frustration. Jackson leaned forward, patting Levin¡¯s neck gently. ¡°Let¡¯s get down there.¡±

    With a powerful beat of its wings, Levin angled down, circling once before landing lightly in the heart of Sebo¡¯s town square. The sight that greeted Jackson was worse up close. Buildings reduced to skeletal frames of timber and stone. Stalls overturned, goods trampled and forgotten. A half-collapsed bell tower loomed over the town, its once-proud structure broken and leaning.

    The few villagers that remained barely glanced up at first, too exhausted or numb to react. But as Jackson dismounted, unbuckling his leather gauntlets, a flicker of hope passed through their weary gazes. Soldiers patrolling the square straightened at the sight of him, their faces pale from days without rest.

    A figure approached him¡ªan older man with a limp, leaning on a cane fashioned from gnarled wood. His weathered face was lined with grief, but his eyes still held the sharpness of a man who had endured worse and survived. The elder¡¯s gaze swept over Jackson, then Levin, recognition flickering in his eyes.

    ¡°Prince Jackson,¡± the elder greeted, his voice hoarse but steady. ¡°You¡¯re too late to stop what¡¯s happened, but we¡¯re glad you¡¯re here now.¡±

    Jackson stepped forward, offering his arm in greeting, though the gesture felt hollow given the destruction around them. ¡°I came as soon as I could. What happened here?¡±

    The elder¡¯s eyes shifted toward the scorched horizon, his mouth a thin line. ¡°They came under the cover of darkness¡ªdragons and riders. Not more than a handful, but enough to tear this place apart. We tried to hold them off, but no amount of swords can match dragonfire.¡±

    Jackson¡¯s jaw clenched at the mention of dragons. He recalled the warning from the village leader of Zaria¡ªthe whispers of riders appearing where they shouldn¡¯t. His father had dismissed it as rumor. Jackson had hoped it was exaggeration. But seeing Sebo now left no room for doubt.

    ¡°Why wasn¡¯t I told sooner?¡± Jackson asked, his voice low but laced with frustration.

    ¡°We sent riders,¡± the elder replied. ¡°But none made it past the hills.¡±

    Jackson¡¯s eyes darkened, and he nodded. ¡°I¡¯m here now. And I¡¯ll stay until this is over.¡±

    Jackson¡¯s gaze swept the square, locking onto the scattered soldiers, most barely more than boys. They watched him carefully, some standing a little straighter, as if his presence alone was enough to restore order.

    ¡°How many men are left to defend the town?¡± Jackson asked.

    ¡°Thirty or so,¡± the elder replied. ¡°More than half of them wounded. We¡¯ve lost as many to hunger as we have to flames.¡±

    Jackson exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. <i>Not nearly enough.</i>

    ¡°Get the soldiers ready,¡± Jackson instructed. ¡°I want patrols doubled at nightfall. Anyone who can fight will join the guard. We can¡¯t leave the town vulnerable.¡±

    The elder nodded. ¡°And the villagers?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll handle them.¡± Jackson turned toward the gathered crowd.

    He stepped forward, raising his voice. ¡°Listen well. I know what¡¯s happened here. You¡¯ve lost your homes, your families¡ªyour sense of safety. But I won¡¯t let Sebo fall any further. I will stay and fight alongside you. This town <i>will</i> hold until reinforcements arrive.¡±

    A murmur swept through the villagers, some looking to one another for reassurance. Others nodded, grateful to hear something resembling hope.

    ¡°Gather the able-bodied,¡± Jackson continued. ¡°We¡¯ll need to rebuild defenses, secure supplies, and¡ª¡±

    He paused, eyes catching on a pile of shattered timber near the far side of the square. A faint glow pulsed beneath the wreckage. Jackson strode over, crouching and brushing aside the debris. Buried beneath it was a smoldering pile of stone¡ªhot to the touch, still brimming with the residue of dragonfire.

    His hand hovered over the stone, flames flickering faintly at his fingertips. Jackson narrowed his eyes, absorbing the warmth into his palm, snuffing out the remaining heat.

    He rose to his full height, turning to face the crowd. ¡°I¡¯ll need every blacksmith, builder, and mage you can spare. We¡¯re constructing wards tonight.¡±

    The elder¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You can do that?¡±

    Jackson¡¯s lips curved into a faint but determined smile. ¡°I¡¯ve been training for this my whole life.¡±

    As dusk fell, Jackson led the charge, using his fire abilities to melt and reshape the stone. Alongside the town¡¯s blacksmiths and magic users, they began crafting protective wards¡ªsimple barriers that, while temporary, would keep dragonfire from consuming what little remained of Sebo.

    The villagers followed his orders, lifting stone and rebuilding walls under his guidance. The town that had been on the brink of collapse began to stir with renewed energy.

    Jackson worked tirelessly through the night, flames dancing in his hands as he shaped the shields. When he finally stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow, the outer wall shimmered faintly under the moonlight¡ªfragile but standing.

    He turned toward Levin, who stood watch at the edge of the square. The pegasus tossed its head proudly, its wings rustling lightly.

    Jackson walked over and stroked its mane. ¡°We¡¯ve bought them time, but not much.¡±

    Levin nudged him gently, as if to say that time was enough.

    As Jackson looked out over the town, the weight of responsibility settled fully on his shoulders. Sebo wasn¡¯t safe¡ªnot yet. The scars of the attack stretched across the land like open wounds, and despite the villagers¡¯ resilience, fear lingered just beneath the surface.

    The faint glow of torches flickered along the town¡¯s perimeter, casting long shadows that danced across the broken streets. Each flame was a fragile beacon against the looming darkness beyond the walls.

    Jackson let out a slow breath, his gaze fixed on the distant treeline. His hands, still calloused from rebuilding, curled loosely at his sides. <b>There was no telling when the dragons would return, but they would.</b> And when they did, he¡¯d be ready.

    Levin stood quietly a few paces away, the pegasus¡¯s silver mane shimmering under the moonlight as if reflecting Jackson¡¯s thoughts.

    With one last glance at the town square¡ªwhere villagers gathered in small clusters, whispering their hopes and fears¡ªJackson stepped away, heading toward the outer wall. The cool night air wrapped around him, and the further he walked, the heavier the silence grew.

    The night was draped over Sebo like a shroud. The torches along the wall flickered weakly against the wind, their flames barely holding back the weight of the dark. Jackson came to a stop near a half-repaired section of stone, resting a hand on the cold surface as he leaned into it.

    In his palm, the communication orb hummed softly, its surface smooth and cool against his skin. Jackson held it up, his reflection distorted in the glassy surface. He hesitated for a moment, thumb brushing over the small cracks that lined the edges. This orb had been with him for years, through countless missions, but tonight it felt heavier¡ªalmost fragile.

    Taking a breath, he activated the orb with a flick of his wrist. A faint golden glow blossomed across its surface, spreading outward in a ripple of light that danced over his hands. Slowly, the outline of his father¡¯s face began to form, hazy at first, before sharpening into focus.

    ¡°Father,¡± Jackson said, his voice steady but low.

    The king sat within his war chamber, clad in dark robes, with his crown resting on the table beside him. His hair, streaked with silver, framed a face worn by years of ruling. Despite the faint lines creasing his brow, his gaze was as piercing as ever.

    ¡°Jackson,¡± the king greeted, his tone calm. ¡°Report.¡±

    Jackson shifted, standing a little straighter. ¡°Sebo is worse than I expected. The town¡¯s barely holding together. Homes are gone, fields burned¡­ the people are tired. We¡¯ve done what we can to secure the perimeter, but if another attack comes before reinforcements arrive, I don¡¯t know if the defenses will hold.¡±

    The king¡¯s face darkened, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. For a long moment, he said nothing, and Jackson could hear the faint crackle of a fire in the background.

    ¡°They came on dragons,¡± Jackson added, breaking the silence. ¡°Just as the village elder in Zaria warned. I saw the scorch marks myself. If this continues¡­¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± his father interrupted, his voice grim. ¡°I believe you.¡±

    The admission surprised Jackson. His father had been dismissive of the initial reports, brushing them off as exaggerations from frightened border towns. For him to acknowledge the threat now meant the situation was more severe than Jackson realized.

    ¡°Reinforcements are on the way,¡± the king continued, his tone softening slightly. ¡°But they won¡¯t arrive for several days. Sebo needs you now. Hold the line, Jackson. Protect the people until help arrives.¡±

    Jackson exhaled slowly, lowering his head as the weight of those words settled on his shoulders. <i>Hold the line.</i>

    He had always known responsibility would fall to him one day¡ªhe was the eldest prince, after all. But standing in the middle of a broken town, surrounded by faces filled with exhaustion and fear, the weight of leadership felt suffocating.

    Jackson looked back at the town square from his vantage point. Villagers huddled together in small clusters, their murmurs faint under the hum of the communication orb. Soldiers sat around makeshift fires, sharpening blades or nursing wounds. All of them were waiting. Waiting for someone to tell them everything would be all right.

    His father¡¯s voice cut through his thoughts. ¡°I know this isn¡¯t easy. But I trust you, Jackson. You were born for this.¡±

    Jackson¡¯s grip tightened on the orb. He wanted to believe that. But deep down, the lingering thought of failure haunted him. What if Sebo fell under his watch? What if the dragons returned before reinforcements arrived?

    ¡°Do whatever you must,¡± the king added after a pause. ¡°The town¡¯s survival rests in your hands.¡±

    Jackson nodded, straightening his posture. ¡°Understood. I¡¯ll hold them off for as long as it takes.¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    The orb dimmed as the connection severed, leaving Jackson standing alone beneath the stars. The faint hum died away, replaced by the crackling torches and distant whispers of the night watch.

    For a long moment, he didn¡¯t move. He let the silence wash over him, staring out at the darkened horizon beyond Sebo¡¯s gates.

    Levin, his Pegasus, stood nearby, flicking its tail as it watched him. The creature¡¯s large, intelligent eyes seemed to sense his unease. Jackson crossed the distance between them, resting his forehead gently against Levin¡¯s neck.

    ¡°They¡¯re depending on us, Levin,¡± Jackson murmured. The pegasus nudged him in response, as if to say <i>we¡¯ll manage.</i>

    Jackson smiled faintly, the small gesture grounding him. His father¡¯s words still echoed in his mind, but for now, there was work to do.

    He turned toward the town, flames flickering along his fingertips as he prepared to return to the village square. <b>Tomorrow, the town would be stronger than it was today.</b>

    ---------------

    The days that followed Jackson¡¯s arrival in Sebo blurred together, marked by the rhythm of rebuilding, reinforcing, and restless waiting. From dawn until dusk, he worked side by side with the villagers and soldiers¡ªrepairing scorched walls, digging trenches, and erecting makeshift barricades. His fire danced at his fingertips, melting down twisted iron and reshaping beams of splintered wood, patching what little they could of Sebo¡¯s defenses.

    But no matter how hard they worked, the cracks in Sebo¡¯s armor remained. Jackson could see it in the faces of the people¡ªthe way they flinched at distant noises, how their eyes lingered too long on the skies as if expecting shadows to descend at any moment.

    As each evening fell, the warmth of the day slipped away, leaving behind an uneasy chill that crept through the village.

    The moon hung high over Sebo on the fourth night, bathing the town in pale silver. Jackson sat atop Levin at the edge of the perimeter, the pegasus shifting beneath him, wings half-extended as if restless from the stillness. Below, the faint glow of torches lined the path of the outer wall, casting flickering halos that barely pierced the darkness beyond.

    Jackson¡¯s gaze swept across the horizon, his eyes narrowing at every shift in the shadows. Nothing stirred in the fields, but that did little to ease the tension coiling in his chest. The silence was too perfect¡ªtoo absolute.

    He ran his gloved fingers through Levin¡¯s mane, the strands of silver hair smooth under his touch. ¡°See anything?¡± he muttered, eyes fixed on the distant hills.

    The pegasus snorted softly, ears twitching forward. Jackson had learned to trust Levin¡¯s instincts. The creature had carried him through countless battles, sensing danger long before Jackson could put words to the feeling.

    But tonight, Levin remained still.

    The air was heavy, and Jackson hated it. The quiet felt less like peace and more like a breath being held, waiting to break.

    As Jackson guided Levin along the perimeter, a figure approached from the far side of the wall. One of the soldiers¡ªan older man with greying hair peeking beneath his helmet¡ªstood watch, gripping his spear with knuckles white from the cold.

    The man stepped aside to let Jackson pass, but the prince pulled Levin to a halt.

    ¡°Trouble?¡± Jackson asked quietly.

    The soldier hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the empty expanse beyond the town. His brows furrowed, and he adjusted his grip on the spear as if the question itself unsettled him.

    ¡°They¡¯re out there,¡± the soldier said at last, his voice barely louder than a whisper. His eyes never left the dark horizon. ¡°I can feel it.¡±

    Jackson followed the man¡¯s gaze toward the distant mountains, where faint outlines barely kissed the night sky. The soldier¡¯s words lingered in the cold air, the kind of warning born from experience rather than paranoia.

    ¡°I know,¡± Jackson replied after a pause. His tone carried no dismissal, only agreement.

    For a long moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the soft creak of the wind tugging at the watchtower banners and the faint rustle of Levin¡¯s wings as he shifted.

    The soldier exhaled, loosening his grip but not his stance. ¡°I¡¯ve served long enough to recognize when the air turns sour. This calm¡­ it¡¯s unnatural.¡±

    Jackson nodded, tightening the reins slightly as Levin¡¯s wings tucked closer to his sides. ¡°Stay sharp. We don¡¯t know when they¡¯ll come, but they will.¡±

    The soldier saluted, and Jackson nudged Levin forward, continuing his patrol along the wall.

    As the final torch along the perimeter flickered in his wake, Jackson cast one last look toward the mountains. Clouds stretched lazily over their peaks, obscuring the moon¡¯s glow, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he saw movement among the trees¡ªjust the faintest ripple of shadows shifting.

    Or perhaps it was nothing.

    But Jackson didn¡¯t believe in tricks of the light.

    ¡°Let them come,¡± Jackson murmured under his breath, more to himself than to Levin. ¡°We¡¯ll be ready.¡±

    ----------

    The night lay heavy over Sebo, draped in an oppressive quiet that felt almost unnatural. Jackson sat atop the half-repaired battlement, eyes fixed on the horizon as the wind whispered softly through the broken town. The torches lining the perimeter flickered weakly, their flames barely holding back the weight of the encroaching dark.

    Levin stood nearby, the silver mane of Jackson¡¯s Pegasus shimmering faintly under the moonlight. Every so often, Levin¡¯s ears twitched, nostrils flaring as if searching the air for something unseen.

    And then it came¡ªthe faintest rustle of wind that didn¡¯t belong.

    Jackson¡¯s eyes narrowed, his head tilting slightly. Levin shifted restlessly beside him.

    Another breeze, but this time it wasn¡¯t the wind. It was the unmistakable sound of wings.

    The first scream shattered the night¡¯s calm.

    Jackson turned sharply, eyes darting toward the western edge of Sebo. Silhouettes sliced through the sky, their massive forms blotting out the stars as they descended. Dragons.

    Their dark shapes spiraled down from the clouds, fire pooling in their throats before cascading onto the outer edge of Sebo like molten rain.

    ¡°TO ARMS!¡± Jackson bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. ¡°DRAGONS!¡±

    Jackson didn¡¯t hesitate. In a single fluid motion, he was on Levin¡¯s back, the pegasus spreading its powerful wings wide. Soldiers below scrambled to position, grabbing weapons and rushing toward the ballistas mounted along the perimeter.

    Levin kicked off the ground, wings slicing through the air as they shot upward. Jackson¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, but adrenaline sharpened his senses. As they gained altitude, he caught sight of three dragons circling overhead¡ªshadows streaking against the pale light of the moon.

    Fire erupted below as one of the dragons broke formation, diving toward Sebo¡¯s southern gate.

    ¡°Not tonight,¡± Jackson growled under his breath, guiding Levin forward.

    A burst of flames erupted from his palm, blazing bright as it streaked through the air toward the diving dragon. The fire exploded along its scaled hide, causing the beast to veer off course with a furious screech.

    The remaining dragons descended in unison, their roars rattling the stone walls below.

    Jackson urged Levin higher, the air thinning as they climbed to meet the incoming threat. Another dragon twisted toward them, its amber eyes glowing like molten gold as it spat a column of fire in their path.

    ¡°Levin¡ªleft!¡± Jackson shouted.

    The pegasus banked hard, narrowly avoiding the torrent of flame. Jackson spun in his saddle, flames curling around his hand before launching a counterattack. His fire struck the dragon¡¯s wing joint, searing through its scales and eliciting a guttural roar.

    Levin surged forward, wings beating hard as they cut through the air, weaving between the dragons like a shadow. Below, ballistas fired, enchanted arrows glowing blue as they arced toward the circling beasts. One arrow struck true, piercing a dragon¡¯s wing and sending it spiraling toward the ground.

    Jackson twisted his head, locking eyes with the largest of the dragons¡ªeasily twice the size of the others. Its scales shimmered like obsidian, and fire pulsed from its jaws as it charged straight for him.

    Jackson braced as the alpha dragon closed the distance, its massive wings darkening the sky around them. Levin let out a fierce cry, and Jackson¡¯s flames roared to life, swirling around his fists.

    The dragon lunged, talons slashing through the air. Jackson ducked low, pressing against Levin¡¯s neck as they skimmed under the beast¡¯s claws. Fire erupted behind him, searing the tip of his cloak.

    Jackson twisted, thrusting his palm toward the dragon¡¯s chest. A jet of white-hot fire exploded forward, slamming into the dragon¡¯s scales. It recoiled, snarling as embers danced across its hide.

    ¡°Keep going!¡± Jackson urged Levin, guiding them higher.

    But the alpha dragon wasn¡¯t done. It circled back, fire spilling from its mouth as it prepared to unleash another attack.

    Jackson¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s end this.¡±

    He summoned a sphere of flame, larger and brighter than before. Levin banked sharply, charging directly at the dragon¡¯s open maw. Jackson released the fire at the last moment, sending it hurtling into the dragon¡¯s mouth.

    The resulting explosion sent shockwaves rippling through the sky. The dragon roared in pain, its flight wavering as it veered off, retreating toward the distant mountains.

    On the ground, soldiers fought to repel the smaller dragons that remained. The enchanted ballistas fired relentlessly, each shot striking with deadly precision. Jackson dove low, unleashing arcs of fire that carved paths through the air, scattering the remaining threats.

    One dragon landed near the village square, its tail smashing through a half-rebuilt home. Soldiers rushed forward, spears and blades glinting in the firelight. Jackson soared overhead, casting a curtain of flame between the dragon and the villagers, forcing it to retreat.

    Within minutes, the last of the dragons pulled back, their screeches echoing into the distance as they vanished into the night.

    Jackson landed in the town square, dismounting as Levin folded his wings tightly against his sides. Sweat trickled down Jackson¡¯s brow, his breathing heavy, but relief washed over him as he looked around.

    The damage was evident¡ªseveral homes bore new scars of fire, and parts of the wall had been reduced to rubble¡ªbut Sebo still stood.

    As he scanned the square, the elder approached, his eyes wide with gratitude. ¡°You drove them back.¡±

    ¡°For now,¡± Jackson replied, his gaze lingering on the sky. ¡°They were testing us. Next time, they¡¯ll bring more.¡±

    He turned to the soldiers, his voice firm. ¡°Double the patrols. Repair the defenses by morning. This isn¡¯t over.¡±

    And as the villagers returned to their homes, Jackson stood beneath the stars, his hands still tingling with the lingering heat of battle.

    -------------

    The first pale light of dawn crept over Sebo¡¯s broken rooftops, chasing away the lingering shadows of the night¡¯s battle. Smoke still curled lazily from the scorched edges of homes, and the faint smell of burning wood hung heavy in the air.

    Jackson stood at the edge of the village, watching as the sky shifted from deep indigo to soft amber. His cloak was damp with morning dew, but he hadn¡¯t bothered to rest. There wasn¡¯t time.

    Below him, the town slowly stirred to life. Villagers emerged from their homes, some carrying buckets of water to douse the last smoldering embers, others dragging charred beams away from collapsed structures. Soldiers limped through the streets, some still bandaging wounds while others replaced broken spears and arrows.

    But despite the destruction, Sebo stood.

    Levin shifted beside him, nudging Jackson¡¯s shoulder with his muzzle.

    ¡°I know,¡± Jackson muttered, reaching up to stroke the pegasus¡¯s mane. ¡°We¡¯ve got work to do.¡±

    With a sharp exhale, Jackson descended the steps from the ruined battlements and strode toward the village square, where the remaining soldiers had begun to gather.

    Jackson¡¯s voice carried across the square as he addressed them, his tone calm but commanding. ¡°We held them off last night, but this isn¡¯t over. They¡¯ll be back. Stronger, and in greater numbers.¡±

    His eyes swept across the faces of the soldiers¡ªmen and women hardened by exhaustion but still standing with quiet determination.

    ¡°We won¡¯t get another warning,¡± Jackson continued. ¡°Which means we need to reinforce Sebo today. I want barriers erected around the town. Wards. Stone walls. Whatever we can manage.¡±

    One of the captains, a grizzled man with a scar across his cheek, stepped forward. ¡°The wards won¡¯t last forever, Your Highness. They drain quickly.¡±

    Jackson nodded. ¡°They don¡¯t have to last forever. They just need to buy us enough time.¡±

    The soldiers murmured among themselves, but there was no hesitation in their eyes. They trusted him¡ªand Jackson would not fail them.

    By midday, teams of soldiers and villagers spread out along the town¡¯s perimeter, gathering stones and salvaging materials from what little remained intact. Jackson led a small group of magic users to the outer walls, where they began carving runes into the stone.

    Jackson knelt by the entrance gate, flames flickering softly around his fingertips as he etched glowing symbols into the wood. Each rune hummed faintly, trailing embers along the edges before sinking deep into the grain. As he worked, the faint outline of a barrier began to shimmer just beyond the gate, rippling like a mirage in the morning light.

    A young mage knelt beside him, watching closely. ¡°I didn¡¯t know fire users could create wards like this,¡± she said, her voice cautious but curious.

    Jackson smirked faintly, continuing his work. ¡°It¡¯s not something they teach in the capital. I had to figure this out the hard way.¡±

    The runes pulsed brighter as Jackson pressed his palm against the finished symbols. A soft thrum echoed outward, and the protective barrier solidified, forming a faint, fiery shield that arched over the gate.

    ¡°It¡¯s crude,¡± Jackson admitted, wiping sweat from his brow. ¡°But it¡¯ll hold.¡±

    As the afternoon wore on, the barriers extended around Sebo, flickering in patches of orange and gold. Where the wards could not reach, soldiers raised wooden spikes along the borders, reinforcing gaps in the outer wall with scavenged stone.

    Jackson moved through each section, helping where he could¡ªlifting beams with Levin¡¯s strength, guiding magic users, and overseeing the archers as they assembled along the higher points of the wall.

    He paused by one of the western watchtowers, where archers tested their bows, replacing strings that had snapped during the night¡¯s battle.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need watch rotations,¡± Jackson said, addressing the group. ¡°I want someone on the walls at all hours. If anything approaches¡ªbe it dragon or rider¡ªI expect to know immediately.¡±

    The head archer saluted. ¡°Consider it done, Your Highness.¡±

    By evening, the last of the wards shimmered into place, encasing Sebo in a fragile dome of light. Jackson stood at the edge of the perimeter, hands resting on the hilt of his sword as he watched the barriers flicker faintly.

    The defenses weren¡¯t perfect. He knew that. The wards would falter with time, and the dragons would eventually find a way through. But for now, Sebo had a fighting chance.

    Raven, one of the younger soldiers, approached him with a weary smile. ¡°It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯s starting to look like Sebo again.¡±

    Jackson returned the smile, though it didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°We¡¯ll make sure it stays that way.¡±

    Raven followed Jackson¡¯s gaze toward the horizon, where the distant mountains loomed like silent sentinels. ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll come back tonight?¡±

    Jackson didn¡¯t answer immediately. He could feel it¡ªthe faint pulse of danger lingering just beyond the edge of his senses.

    ¡°They will,¡± Jackson said quietly. ¡°But not tonight.¡±

    He placed a hand on Raven¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Get some rest. You¡¯ve earned it.¡±

    As Raven nodded and walked away, Jackson remained by the wall, his eyes never leaving the sky.

    <b>Let them come,</b> he thought. <b>Sebo will stand, and I will make sure of it.</b>

    <b></b>

    <b>--------------------</b>

    <b></b>