The moon was high, casting silver light over the marble courtyards and stained glass windows of Artherion. As the final strings of the orchestra reverberated through the golden domes of the Grand Hall, the Royal Ball neared its end. It had been a night of marvels, lights danced like stars, nobles shimmered in jewel-toned garments, and celestial food and wine had flowed like a dream. Couriers from distant lands, monarchs draped in silks woven with starlight, mages cloaked in runes, and kings of realms unknown stood shoulder to shoulder in celebration of the millennial Concord Pact, renewing the peace between the realms for another thousand years.
But for me, the marvels had become a blur, Princess Vaeloria made sure of that.
The Prince left me to meet his father and the other kings. Princess Vaeloria sent me outside to stand in the cold.
I stood by a moon-kissed balcony garden, the warmth of the prince's hand still fresh on mine from their. The music had faded, yet my heart kept time, pulsing with confusion and wonder. Lucien Elyrion, prince of Artherion, heir to the greatest throne known among the kingdoms, had asked me to dance.
While u was lost in thoughts, the air suddenly grew tense, he was here again, standing beside me beneath the violet-leaved arbor, where jasmine vines curled like whispers toward the heavens.
Lucien leaned against the pillar beside me, his white and gold ceremonial attire somehow casual on him, every line perfectly fitted yet effortless. His crimson red eyes, flecked with faint stardust, remained fixed on her.
"You keep looking away," he said, his voice echoed on anton in my mind.
Mirelleth's fingers trembled as she wrung the hem of her maid's gown. "Because I do not belong beside you, Your Highness."
He tilted his head. "Then you are mistaken, for this is exactly where you belong."
She lowered her gaze. "Princess Vaeloria, She is beautiful, powerful, a daughter of Dravenguard. She would suit you more than I ever could."
Lucien laughed softly, like wind brushing harp strings. "You are the one I have in my heart"
Mirelleth dared to glance up.
"And I have declared so," he said. "I cannot, however, be pleased with princess Vaeloria"
Her breath caught.
"And more than that, Mirelleth... my love for you will soon be more than just gentle gestures and whispered words."
I looked into his eyes, and for the first time, didn't turn away. The garden fell silent, the scent of moon blossoms heady in the stillness.
The ball concluded with ancient tradition: the Benediction of Concord. A robed choir of white-haired oracles sang in tongues lost to all but time, and arcane lights painted the skies. King Elyrion rose from his throne, offering the Flame of Unity, a glowing lotus of golden fire, to the attending kingdoms. The crowd watched in reverent silence, knowing this flame was said to have been drawn from the heart of the world itself.
As the final bow was taken, each guest was escorted to a chamber befitting their station.
I was guided into a room of polished marble and silver-threaded linen. I was told it is the servants quarters. My breath caught at the luxury. A bed like a cloud, silk robes for sleep, oils that smelled of lavender and snow blossom.
"This is where they let me stay?" I whispered. My heart ached. Back home, I had slept on straw by the hearth. She lay down slowly, her fingers trembling as they touched the pillow.
It felt like grace.
Morning in Artherion rose with golden banners unfurling from every spire. Trumpets called the sun from the east. Today was no ordinary day.
Within a chamber wreathed in frost-blue tapestries, Prince Alaric of Dravenguard stood in silence as his knight fastened his armor. It was forged from a black mineral that shimmered like oil and smoke, etched with glyphs of forgotten gods. Alaric's eyes were deep pools of malice and ice, his presence unnerving.
He gazed into the mirror, speaking only one word: "Lucien."
The knight of Dravenguard smirked. "Break him."
In the throne room of Artherion, Lucien stood in silence as the royal knight beside the throne stepped forward. He was a towering figure in silver and gold armor, wings etched into his pauldrons, feathers of light cascading down his back like divine fire. His helm was crowned, not with jewels, but with radiant arcs of energy. He was called the Sword of the Throne, the Invincible Flame. His aura alone bent the light around him.
He bowed once before the Prince and gracefully lifted his upper body to stand straight.
Lucien nodded. They walked side by side, the prince and the knight, out of the crystal gates and down into the Coliseum.
The crowd was thunderous. Royalty, sorcerers, monarchs of shadow and flame, all gathered in the open arena—crafted from a single ring of iridescent stone, enchanted to reflect the sky. At its center was an open field where battle would commence.
On it, Alaric waited. He stood tall in a suit of armor and a crimson red Cape having Dravenguard's crest.
"What insolence! A fool playing right into his death", he said as he saw Lucien part from his knight into the battle field. Lucien had no armor on him. No protection, just his princely regalia.
King Elyrion stood and raised his hand. "LET BATTLE COMMENCE!"
Alaric charged first, twin daggers in hand, each blade laced with poison and shrouded with the shadow of death. He struck with speed that split the air, a blur of steel and wrath.
Lucien didn't move as Alaric charged at him.
With his hands in his pockets, he sidestepped the first strike, then the second, like a leaf gracefully swaying in the breeze.
Alaric snarled in fraustration
Lucien only smirked.
Alaric spun, launching a flurry of strikes, but Lucien's body flowed like water, evading each attack without a flicker of effort. The prince stepped aside just enough, letting blades pass inches from his flesh, his gaze calm.
With a scream, Alaric summoned dark magic, spectral chains surged from the ground, aiming to bind Lucien. Still, the prince moved like smoke. The chains missed, crashing into each other.
Then came the long sword, drawn with a crack of lightning. Alaric summoned storms—thunder cracked, shadows rose from under his feet, and fireballs soared.
Lucien's boots never scuffed the stone.
Demons erupted from the arena's edges, snarling horrors made of bone and shadow. Alaric laughed, raising both hands as a colossal nightmare descended.
Lucien exhaled.
With a blink, he vanished, reappearing atop the demon's skull. It reared back—too late. A tap of Lucien's foot shattered it into ash.
Then Lucien moved like mist.
Smash!
Crash!!
Bang!!!
The Colosseum watched in awe, everyone at the edge of their seats. The tension and anticipation was visible and tangible. Dust rose from the fall of the giants Alaric summoned, cries of demon shadows and the undead screeched in high pitch from the chaos veiled in dust.
A pair of burning fiery red eyes could now be seen, a silhouette standing approached gracefully.
Alaric stood alone now, panting, drenched in sweat and rage. All his summons were slaughtered.
Lucien descended with the grace of a feather. He landed silently before Alaric, still with his hands in his pockets.
"I expected more," Lucien said quietly.
With a roar of fury, Alaric surged forward, longsword overhead, thunder crackling from his runes. The blade came down.
Lucien didn't flinch.
The sword neared his head faster... and...
BANG!!!
The entire Colosseum stood aside the kings and nobles. No decibel was spared after what was just seen.
Debris flew from the rising dust...
Lightning cackled...
Blue flames engulfed the ring...
As the dust settled, Alaric's glowing long sword could be seen from the roof.
Gasps filled the air. Murmuring grew louder. Mirelleth watched as her heart clenched. She was searching for Lucien.
Vwoooosh!....
The dust dispersed in a flash...
There stood Lucien holding the edge of Alaric's blade...
His eyes were now glowing and peering into Alaric's soul.
Then- SHATTER!...
....