The sky above the village of Vessara hung heavy with clouds, their gray expanse casting a dim, muted light over the rolling hills. The air was still, as if the world itself held its breath. For Arun, life in the village had always been quiet, uneventful—a stark contrast to the turbulent history his family carried like a shadow.
His father, once a prince of the Dragon Kingdom, Drakoria, had abandoned his royal lineage for love. Arun had heard the story countless times: how his father had fallen for a Lesser Essentia woman from the Phoenix Kingdom, Aurelia, and how their union had defied the laws of both lands. To protect his family, his father had faked his death, leaving behind the grandeur of royalty to live as a simple blacksmith among the Non-Essentia. It was a life of anonymity, of quiet strength, but also one of hidden pain.
Arun had always admired his father—his calloused hands that shaped metal with ease, his piercing gaze that seemed to see through time itself. But he had never understood the weight of the secret his father carried. To Arun, his father was just that: a father. A man who worked tirelessly, who told stories of distant lands, and who always seemed to carry a sadness he could never quite name.
In Vessara, Arun was seen as weak. A Non-Essentia with no powers to speak of, he was an outcast in a world where strength was measured by the essence of mythical creatures. He dreamed of being like his father—strong, capable, a protector. But his body betrayed him. Frail and unremarkable, he could barely lift a sword without his arms trembling. Yet, deep within him, a fire burned—a longing to prove himself, to be more than the world believed he could be.
“Arun, fetch the firewood,” his mother called from the doorway, her voice soft but firm. Her face, lined with the marks of a life lived in quiet resilience, was a mirror of the strength she carried within.
“Yes, Mother,” Arun replied, pushing himself up from the dirt. He moved quickly, eager to help, though he couldn’t quite explain why. Was it the need to prove his worth? Or simply the love he held for his family, the one thing that made him feel whole in a world that had cast him aside?
As he gathered the firewood, the distant sound of hooves reached his ears. Arun froze. No one ever came to Vessara unannounced. His heart quickened, a knot of unease tightening in his chest.
Before he could react, the first screams pierced the air.
“Raiders!”
Arun dropped the wood and sprinted toward the village square, his feet pounding against the dirt path. What he saw made his blood run cold. Riders in dark cloaks, their faces obscured by helmets, stormed through the village. Swords flashed, and flames licked at the thatched roofs of homes. The air was thick with smoke and the cries of the terrified.
Stolen story; please report.
A villager tried to fight back, but his sword was knocked from his hands, and he fell to the ground, wounded. Arun stood frozen, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. He had no power to fight, no ability to protect the people around him. But he couldn’t just stand there. His father’s voice echoed in his mind: “A man is only as strong as the choices he makes when faced with fear.”
He turned and ran toward home, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to find his father. If anyone could protect them, it was him.
Inside their modest home, his father stood, his face grim. His mother was already gathering Lira, Arun’s younger sister, to flee.
“Father, what’s happening?” Arun asked, his voice trembling.
The look in his father’s eyes was one of resignation, yet determination. “The past has come for me, Arun. They’ve found us.”
Arun’s stomach churned. “Who are they?”
“Soldiers from the kingdoms,” his father replied, his voice low and steady. “They’ve been searching for me ever since I left Drakoria. I thought I could hide, but now... the past has caught up to us.”
His father moved swiftly, pulling a long, intricately carved sword from beneath the floorboards. His hands, once rough from years of labor, now moved with an unsettling grace. “Get your mother and sister out of here,” he ordered. “Go to the river. I’ll hold them off.”
Arun’s blood turned to ice. “No, you can’t fight them alone!”
“I’ve faced armies before, Arun. But you need to go. Now!”
Arun hesitated, his heart tearing in two. He wanted to argue, to stay and fight, but the urgency in his father’s voice left no room for defiance. He turned and ran toward the back of the house, where his mother and sister were already preparing to leave.
“No!” Arun shouted, turning back to his father. “Don’t do this, please!”
His father’s gaze softened for just a moment. “I won’t let them harm you. Trust me.”
As Arun reached the door, a deafening crash echoed from the front of the house. The raiders had broken through.
“Go!” his father commanded, his voice filled with finality.
The moment Arun and his family stepped outside, a roar of unimaginable power shook the air, deep and guttural, as if the earth itself were crying out. Arun’s heart skipped a beat. The ground trembled beneath his feet, and he turned just in time to see his father standing in the doorway, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly light.
It was a moment that would change everything.
Arun had heard the old tales—of the Leviathan, the Abyssal Serpent, an ancient creature feared even by the mightiest kings. He had never believed them to be true. But as his father’s eyes locked with his, Arun knew, deep in his bones, that this power was real.
“Father, no!” Arun cried, rushing back toward him.
But his father raised his hand, and the energy that poured from him seemed to tear the very fabric of the world. A wave of chaos, raw and untamed, radiated from his body. The attackers hesitated, their confidence wavering for the first time.
And then it happened.
His father’s body convulsed as the power within him reached its peak. It was both beautiful and terrifying, a force of destruction and rebirth. He was no longer just a man. He was something more—something the world had forgotten, something that had been lost to history.
The Leviathan had chosen Arun’s father, but the cost was unimaginable. The battle had begun.