CHAPTER 1

[ ELDORIN ]

[ TIME : 5 LUMENS ]

[ YEAR : 360 AC ]

Eldoria, the human kingdom, boasts a landscape of rolling hills, fertile valleys, and sprawling plains. Its idyllic countryside is dotted with picturesque villages and bustling towns, where the industrious human population thrives. Majestic rivers meander through the land, providing a source of sustenance and transportation for its inhabitants.

Everlorn, the elven kingdom, is a realm of enchantment and natural beauty. Its verdant forests, adorned with towering trees and lush vegetation, create a mystical ambiance. Sunlight filters through the dense canopies, casting a golden glow on the forest floor. Hidden groves, shimmering lakes, and sparkling waterfalls add to the ethereal allure of Everlorn.

Ironhelm, the domain of dwarves, is a kingdom nestled within rugged mountain ranges. Towering peaks, veiled in mist, stand as stoic guardians of this formidable realm. Rich veins of precious minerals and ores run through the mountains, providing the dwarven inhabitants with abundant resources for their craftsmanship and mining endeavors. Magnificent halls and forges are carved into the mountainsides, where the dwarves hone their skills and forge legendary weapons and armor.

Beyond the civilized kingdoms lie the territories of Irontusk and Grimrock, inhabited by creatures of a more savage nature. Irontusk territories are claimed by three orc clans: Bloodfang, Skullcrusher, and Ironjaw. These fierce and uncivilized creatures roam the wild lands, their presence a constant reminder of the untamed nature of the region. The landscape is rugged and harsh, marked by treacherous terrains and untamed wilderness.

Grimrock, on the other hand, is the domain of goblins. This dark and foreboding realm is characterized by deep ravines, twisting caverns, and winding tunnels. Goblins find shelter and solace in these subterranean dwellings, using their cunning and guile to survive in the shadows. Grimrock echoes with the sounds of scuttling creatures and mysterious whispers, as the goblins navigate their labyrinthine homes.

Princess Lyra Skyfall, a spirited young girl of fifteen, sat in the grand study of the royal palace, as her tutor Master Elaric went about the lessons for the day by her side. The room was adorned with maps, books, and various artifacts depicting the geography of Eldoria and its neighboring kingdoms. Lyra, however, found herself struggling to focus on the mundane lesson that her tutor, Master Elaric, was attempting to impart.

As Master Elaric droned on about the historical significance of each region, Lyra's mind wandered, yearning for something more exciting and magical. Her thoughts drifted to the hidden tomes of arcane knowledge hidden away in the palace library, waiting to be explored. The prospect of wielding the powers of magic enticed her far more than the intricacies of trade routes or the names of distant mountain ranges.

Master Elaric, noticing Lyra's lack of attention, cleared his throat and fixed her with a stern gaze. "Princess Lyra," he admonished, "this knowledge is crucial for any ruler. You must pay attention to the geography of our kingdom and its surrounding lands. It is the foundation upon which you will build your understanding of the realm."

Lyra's gaze met Master Elaric's, a hint of defiance flickering in her eyes. "But, Master Cedric," she interjected, "what good is knowing every valley and river if I cannot shape the very forces that govern our world? I want to learn about magic, about the arcane arts. That is what truly interests me."

The tutor's stern expression softened, his brows furrowing with concern. "Princess, I understand your fascination with magic, but remember that you carry the responsibility of ruling a kingdom. It is imperative that you grasp the foundations of our world before delving into the realms of the arcane. Knowledge of history, geography, and diplomacy will guide your decisions and ensure the well-being of your people."

Lyra sighed, her frustration evident. She felt trapped, yearning for the secrets and wonders that magic held, yet bound by the duties expected of her as a princess. Reluctantly, she turned her attention back to the maps and charts spread before her.

Master Elaric resumed his lecture, his voice laced with a touch of empathy. He began to describe the intricate details of the borders between Eldoria and its neighboring kingdoms, explaining the delicate alliances and rivalries that shaped the political landscape. As he spoke, Lyra made a valiant effort to absorb the information, though her mind often wandered to visions of arcane spells and fantastical creatures.

After what felt like an eternity, Master Elaric finally concluded the lesson, observing Lyra's disinterested expression. He sighed softly and closed the books, gathering his notes. "Princess Lyra, I implore you to find balance in your pursuits. Embrace the knowledge of our world, for it is the tapestry upon which magic finds its place. Only by understanding the threads that connect us can you truly weave your destiny."

Lyra was about to say something when the doors of the study swung open, revealing the guards standing at attention.

"Princess Lyra," one of the guards announced, "Aric Raledron requests an audience with you."

Lyra sighed inwardly, her hopes of escaping the mundane lessons momentarily dashed. Aric Raledron, the persistent suitor and son of Prime Minister Celdric Raledron, had been pursuing her for what felt like an eternity. Despite his genuine affection and intentions, Lyra found herself repelled by his arrogance and spoiled nature. She hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to decline his request, but eventually resigned herself to the inevitable.

"Very well," Lyra reluctantly replied, her voice tinged with resignation. "Allow him entry."

Master Elaric, sensing Lyra's disappointment, rose from his chair with a sympathetic expression. "Princess, I will take my leave and give you some privacy. Remember, should you wish to discuss your studies or any other matters, I am always here for you."

Lyra nodded gratefully to her tutor as he exited the room, leaving her alone to face Aric's presence. Moments later, Aric Raledron entered, a hopeful smile lighting up his face. Lyra forced herself to offer a polite smile in return, masking her true disinterest.

"Aric," Lyra greeted, her tone polite but distant. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit today?"

Aric's eyes gleamed with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. "Lyra, my dearest, I have longed to speak with you. To be in your presence brings me joy beyond measure."

Lyra suppressed a sigh, her patience waning. "Aric, please. We have had this conversation countless times before. I am not interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with you. Now, if you don't have any important things to discuss excluding your love confessions, please see yourself out "

Aric said, his voice tinged with a touch of disappointment. " The king has summoned you, and he requested that I be the one to escort you to the court. I'm not sure why, but it seems important."

Lyra gazed at Aric with a mixture of surprise and skepticism. "The king? Summoning me? That is unexpected. However, I assure you, Aric, I am perfectly capable of attending to the king's request on my own. There is no need for your assistance."

With those words, Lyra nodded curtly and walked past Aric, making her way towards the door. Aric watched her retreating figure, a mix of longing and determination etched on his face.

Aric clenched his fists in frustration as he watched Lyra confidently stride away, determined to meet the king on her own. He had hoped that his offer to accompany her would be a chance for them to connect on a deeper level. But her rejection stung, and a mix of disappointment and anger welled up within him.

"Why does she always push me away?" Aric muttered to himself, his voice laced with frustration. "I only wanted to be there for her, to show her that I care. Yet she treats me as if I'm some nuisance to be avoided."

Lyra and Aric entered the grand hall of the royal court, their steps measured and their demeanor respectful. The room was adorned with opulent tapestries and glittering chandeliers, the air thick with anticipation. At the center of the hall, King Gawain and Queen Amara sat upon their ornate thrones, radiating an aura of authority and wisdom. Surrounding them, the council of elders occupied their respective seats, their expressions a mix of curiosity and intrigue.

Lyra's eyes briefly met her father's as she gracefully bowed before the royal couple, a gesture of reverence and submission. Aric, mirroring her actions, cast a quick glance towards his own father, Celdric Raledron, the prime minister of Eldoria. Celdric's smile remained enigmatic, leaving Aric even more perplexed.

Rising from her bow, Lyra's gaze shifted towards the king and queen, her voice steady yet filled with curiosity. "Your Majesties, I humbly stand before you as summoned. May I inquire as to the purpose of my presence here today?"

King Gawain, his regal voice resonating through the hall, leaned forward slightly, his eyes filled with a mixture of warmth and determination. "Princess Lyra, my dear daughter, it is with great pleasure and joy that I announce a momentous occasion. A betrothal has been declared between you and Lord Aric Raledron."

Aric's heart leapt with joy at the king's words, his eyes shining with hope and excitement. He turned towards Lyra, a wide smile stretching across his face, eager to share in the happiness of this moment. However, as he met her gaze, his joy turned to ashes.

Lyra's eyes, once filled with curiosity, were now brimming with an unmistakable combination of hate, disgust, and loathing. The intensity of her stare sent a shiver down Aric's spine, as if icy daggers pierced through his very soul.

Confusion washed over Aric's features, his smile faltering as he struggled to comprehend the sudden shift in Lyra's demeanor. He glanced towards his father, seeking answers, but Celdric's expression remained impassive, a mask of inscrutability.

The silence in the hall was palpable, tension thickening the air. Lyra's voice, laced with barely concealed anger, broke the stillness. "My king, with the utmost respect, may I inquire as to the reasoning behind this betrothal? For I fail to understand how such a decision has been made without my knowledge or consent."

King Gawain's features softened, his voice gentle yet firm. "Lyra, my beloved daughter, this union between you and Lord Aric Raledron is not only a matter of political alliance but also a chance to unite our families and strengthen our kingdom. We believe it to be a marriage of great potential and prosperity."

Aric's heart sank as he witnessed the flicker of pain in Lyra's eyes, a pain he had unknowingly inflicted upon her. He desperately wanted to reach out, to explain his own desires and feelings, but the weight of the situation kept him rooted in place.

..................

[ RUINS OF CITADEL OF NALORIA ]

[ TIME : 5 LUMENS ]

[ YEAR : 36O AC ]

the ruins of the Citadel of Naloria stood silently, a forgotten relic of a bygone era. Within its crumbling walls, a motley group of goblins had made the decaying citadel their makeshift settlement. Among them, a lone goblin ventured deeper into the desolate interior, driven by a mix of curiosity and greed.

The air inside the citadel was heavy with a sense of desolation. Sunlight struggled to penetrate through the broken windows, casting eerie shadows that danced across the damaged walls. The goblin's footsteps echoed in the silence as he cautiously navigated the debris-strewn chambers, his sharp eyes searching for any sign of hidden treasures.

Suddenly, a faint whisper reached the goblin's ears, barely audible amidst the quietude. It beckoned to him, promising untold riches or perhaps something more sinister. Intrigued, the goblin followed the ethereal voice, his curiosity overriding any sense of caution.

As he ventured deeper into the heart of the citadel, the scene that unfolded before him was one of macabre horror. Bones of various creatures littered the floor, remnants of forgotten battles and lost lives. The air seemed thick with a malevolent presence, making the goblin's skin crawl.

The whisper grew louder, and a guttural sound emanated from the darkness. The goblin's eyes widened, his instincts urging him to turn and flee. But before he could react, a dark figure lunged at him from the shadows, its form twisted and grotesque. The goblin let out a startled cry, but it was cut short as the creature's sharp claws found their mark.

Outside the citadel, the remaining goblins had been startled by the initial screech. Some peered towards the ruins, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern. They prepared to investigate when, suddenly, the goblin who had entered the citadel emerged once more.

But something had changed. Black veins spread across his body, pulsating with an otherworldly energy. His once vibrant eyes had turned pitch black. With a blood-curdling screech, he unleashed a powerful gust of wind from his feet, propelling himself into the midst of his unsuspecting companions.

As the screeches and clashes echoed through the ruined halls, . The citadel of Naloria had become a place of darkness and despair, a harbinger of the impending storm that threatened to engulf the land of Arcadia.