Aelar stood upon the shore of Niran, the dying sun painting the western sky in hues of amethyst and fire. The tang of salt stung his nostrils, a welcome sensation after endless leagues upon the churning sea. Here, his boots sank into the yielding sand, a luxury denied him on the rocking deck of a ship. This was the land, the soil that birthed his ancestors, and a smile, bittersweet yet fierce, tugged at his lips. Memories, like phantoms stirred by a mournful wind, whispered of his mother's voice. She spoke of the Shattered Realms, these very lands where he stood. Legends spun tales of a singular Rune, a sigil of unity that bound the continents together. But the malice of the First Ones, so the stories went, fractured the Rune, scattering its shards across the face of the world. Each fragment, it was said, tore a continent from the whole, though whispers hinted at a darker truth.

The legends claimed only a being of immense power, a First One, could shatter such a Rune. Yet, the tales also spoke of Altan the False God. Aelar clenched his fist around a handful of sand, the gritty grains a good reminder he wasn’t the Lost Prince any longer. The truth, like the shattered Rune, lay in pieces. Whether the legends held merit mattered little; the secret of how the Rune was broken lay buried deep within time, a truth best left undisturbed. With a sigh, he turned from the dying light, a king uncrowned with a kingdom in ruins. Duty, a cold hand clutching at his heart, urged him onward. He would relish this solace, this communion with the land, when the battles were won and the dust settled. But for now, there was work to be done. He walked towards the skeletal remains of the castle, a jagged silhouette against the star-strewn indigo canvas. Within those crumbling walls, his companions lay in wait, their loyalty as constant as the northern stars. The path ahead was fraught with peril, but Aelar, heir to a shattered legacy, would reclaim what was rightfully his.

The castle loomed before Aelar, a witness to a bygone era. Towers, once kissed by the sun, speared skyward, their tips obscured by wisps of cloud. Legends whispered of a time when the castle glittered with an abundance of gold, a treasure trove that no invader could fully deplete. Raiders, lured by tales of endless riches, had descended upon the kingdom like vultures. Yet, the gold always seemed to replenish itself, a source of wonder and speculation. But whispers turned to screams as a monstrous storm, conjured by the wrath of the Nirans, swallowed the last wave of plunderers whole. Since that fateful day, the castle had stood silent, undisturbed. It would look beautiful once rebuilt and Aelar already imagined it finished. One day he would raise his children here. His children would run across this shore in joy and happiness without the fear of the sea or men.

"Where are you walking to?" A calm voice cut through Aelar's thoughts. He turned to find Zayn, his bastard brother, standing beside him. Their contrasting appearances - Aelar's silver hair against Zayn's dark, red eyes against blue - were a constant reminder of their shared lineage.

"Just heading to meet Rhea and Kamil," Aelar replied. "What brings you out for a stroll?" Zayn's white robe, a symbol of his birthright, fell above his ankles. He never seemed to mind the informality, unlike some others. A faint smile tugged at his lips.

"Just enjoying a rare moment by the sea. Not exactly something I've had many of, have I?" Aelar acknowledged the truth in his brother's words.

"We'll have plenty of walks together in the future, but you know we can't waste any time right now." Zayn nodded curtly, his gaze drifting towards the horizon. Aelar often wondered what went on behind those quiet eyes, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

"Let me tag along," Zayn offered. "You might need someone to keep you grounded when you get lost in your grand pronouncements." Aelar couldn't help but let out a chuckle. Despite their differences, there was a camaraderie between them. Perhaps it was the shared burden of their destiny, or maybe a deeper, unspoken bond.

"Alright, come on then," Aelar said, gesturing towards the path. "But don't expect me to be swayed by your witty jabs."

Zayn's smile widened, a flicker of something more in his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it, your Highness."

"Indeed," Zayn agreed, his voice low. They walked side-by-side through the castle ruins, the path leading towards their hidden camp on the other side. This location offered some protection, as Arav had warned him about the vigil of the nearby people. They had stood upon their towers for thousands of years not letting their ancestors pass until their eventual demise. They seemed to have never left their vigil, always on the watch.

News of their arrival would spread quickly, and unwanted visitors were likely on the horizon. Aelar wouldn't allow anyone to disrespect his land or its people. The trespass had already lasted millennia, and it was time to establish a new way of existing. Aelar would never let the past mistakes of history ever be repeated again, it was his duty from birth. It was what he had been groomed into believing he would do.

"A sparrow steal your thoughts?" Zayn asked playfully. Aelar chuckled, shaking off his introspection.

"Just pondering the foreigners," he admitted. "Their very presence here on my land...it grates on me." Zayn's brow furrowed slightly.

"Our land, you mean?" Aelar stumbled slightly over the words. "Right, of course. Our land." He repeated it firmly, hoping he understood it was just a slip up. Zayn offered a sly smile.

"You should smile more often, Aelar. It suits you. A flash of those teeth at the foreigners, and they'd be bowing before you in no time." Aelar found the idea amusing.

"I think yours would have that effect, too. Rhea says my smile is a bit...predatory." Zayn rolled his eyes, but his grin remained.

"She just teases you. You know how she is." His expression grew more serious. "Remember the old wisdom, Aelar: Character is the greatest leader.” Aelar considered his words, a remembrance to something someone had told him before but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Aelar scoffed at Zayn's remark, dismissing it with a dismissive gesture. Silence fell between them as they traversed the ruined castle and kingdom, their steps echoing amidst the remnants of their ancestors. The only treasures they found were scattered bits of gold, but they continued their search with dogged determination. In the distance, Zayn spotted a weathered portrait. As Aelar reached for it, the fragile material crumbled in his grasp. Frustration flickered in his eyes. Aelar wondered who the portrait had once shown.

Some sections of the ruins seemed to swallow the moonlight, radiating an unsettling darkness. Aelar instinctively steered clear, a prickle of unease crawling up his spine. It felt strange, almost surreal, to be walking amongst the final resting places of his ancestors. Yet a thrill coursed through him. Millennia had passed since their people set foot on these shores so why could he not enjoy it? He vowed silently that one day, all Niranians would return to claim their birthright, but the timing remained, shrouded in mystery.

As they neared the camp, the distant glow of lanterns pierced the night. Aelar blinked, surprised to see the first hints of dawn painting the horizon. The walk had felt much shorter in his mind's eye. A joyous shout echoed from the ruins ahead. Aelar grinned, recognizing his younger sister's voice. Aralia burst out from the shadows, throwing herself into a hug. He returned the embrace warmly. When she saw Zayn, she included him with another hug.

"We were just watching the sunset," Aelar said almost apologetically. “We’ve been returning for a while now, it's a long journey.”

"For a whole day," she said pointedly, "and you didn't take me with you!" Aelar knelt and patted her head gently. "I promise, we'll go exploring together soon." Aralia rolled her eyes, unconvinced.

"You always say that, but then you're too busy or too tired." A pang of guilt stabbed at Aelar. She was right. He should make more time for her. It was a constant struggle to balance his personal needs with his duty to his people and their mission. But Aralia deserved his attention too. He vowed to find a way to spend more time with his little sister.

"He does get weary easily," Zayn teased Aralia, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But perhaps I can take you on a short seaside walk later. We could explore the ruins a little further." Aelar appreciated Zayn's quick thinking. His half-brother always seemed to know how to smooth things over.

"Hold on a moment," Aelar interjected, a note of caution in his voice. "We need to make sure this place is secure before exploring. It's been a long time, and we don't know what dangers might be lurking." Aralia's disappointment was clear, a small frown creasing her brow. Zayn rose to his feet and gestured towards the camp.

"Perhaps Aralia and I could take a short walk along the shore for now," he suggested. "You should head back and check on the camp. Makes sense, wouldn't you agree?" Aelar recognized the wisdom in Zayn's words.

"Alright, that sounds good," he conceded. "I'll catch up with you both later, if I can." He knew deep down it was unlikely, but a pang of guilt flickered within him. He offered his sister a quick kiss on the forehead, the gesture filled with affection. The carefree walk on the shore suddenly felt like a luxury he couldn't afford.

Aelar gazed around their camp once more. They hadn’t come with many people, only around ten men. This included him, Rhea, Kamil, Zayn, Feron, Ayrn, and Xafer. His mother had sent them to search for their ancestral homelands a year ago and it had taken a year's journey to arrive here. It had been difficult being away from all that he had been familiar with all his life but he hoped one day he would find this land more familiar than that one ever was.

The homeland for the Nirans was special because this was where life had first been borned. Back when all lands were together and connected Niran had been at the center of it a place beaming with life and beauty only to be left in ruins now.

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Aelar reached the camp to find Rhea waiting for him. Her hair, the color of burnished copper, shimmered in the fading light. She wrapped her arm around him, drawing him into a warm embrace.

Rhea's laughter, light and teasing, cut through the twilight as Aelar finally rejoined the camp. "Took your sweet time, did you, my prince?" Aelar, the tension of his internal debate momentarily forgotten, offered her a genuine smile.

"The beach held a certain charm, though the company could have been livelier."

"Not all of us have the luxury of aimless strolls, love," Rhea countered, her hand finding his arm. "Some of us have pressing matters to attend to." He squeezed her hand back, a silent apology for his earlier frustration.

"Fair enough. This," he vowed, "shall be the last such indulgence... for now." A flicker of amusement danced in her eyes.

"One can only hope, Your Highness." A sudden frown creased his brow.

"Speaking of pressing matters, where's Kamil? We need to discuss these... potential guests." He cast a searching glance around the camp. As if sensing his unspoken question, Rhea supplied the answer.

"Kamil's conferring with Feron and Ayrn about potential repairs for the ruins. They just ventured inside a moment ago, actually."

Aelar's frown deepened. "Without a word?"

Rhea's touch gentled. "Perhaps they felt the urgency of the task. They'll be back shortly, no doubt."

“They should’ve waited for my arrival.” He muttered almost as if to himself. It pricked him that they would go without waiting for him but he knew he was no king yet. The title would soon arrive to him and then he would be The Lord of Realms.

“Well, I’m sure they know what they’re doing,” Rhea said, her eyes searching his. Aelar felt her gaze on him like a hawk but he knew they had to wait.

“Not now,” he replied, gently pulling her hand from his arm. “We still have time.” Her eyes dropped, and she turned away. They were betrothed, destined to be husband and wife, king and queen, but that day was not yet upon them. Aelar had yet to take the crown of his people, a moment that awaited the arrival of his mother, the Regent.

In a moon, she would place the ancient crown upon his head, and he would at last be king. Only then could the hunt for the Crown of Realms begin. His conquest would be swift and unyielding, crushing anyone who stood in his way without a second thought. Those who swore allegiance to him would be spared but relegated to lives of subservience. Aelar could already picture the aftermath of his battles, the smoldering ruins over which he would stand victorious. Flames would consume all in his path, and he would survey the destruction from atop his dragon, a triumphant smile playing on his lips.

Once he got his crown he would be gifted with the mark of flames his king ancestors had all worn. Then he would be given a dragon egg and nurture it with his own flames just like the kings of the past had done but this would be later than they had done it. His ancestors would get their dragon eggs and would keep it with them until they were given the mark. There were rare instances of anyone outside of the king or queen getting dragons like his King ancestor Aelar the Unifier. His sister wives had ridden dragons by his side and aided in his conquests being the only companions he could trust to ride by his side.

The idea of marrying a family member had always seemed strange to Aelar, but he had accepted it, knowing that it was a longstanding tradition in his family. The Nirans believed in strengthening their bloodline by keeping marriages within the family. So when he was betrothed to Rhea, his older sister, no one was surprised. In fact, they were pleased that she would one day bear his children.

Rhea's voice, tight with worry, echoed the unspoken fear that whispered at them all. "What will we do if the foreigners visit us?" she whispered, the word heavy with dread. Before Aelar set sail, his mother, her face etched with concern, had pressed an ancient horn into his hand. A dragon horn, legend said, a relic gifted to their forefather Aelar by Cael the Remaining. A horn that held the power to summon the spirits of dragons long dead, a testament to Niran's past might. Aelar traced the ridges of the horn, worn smooth by the caress of time. His fingers lingered on the carved scales that coiled around its base.

Black and twisted, it might have seemed an ugly thing, but to him, it was a treasure beyond comparison. Use it only if you are near the Every-Eye Islands, his mother had warned. And they had, hearts pounding with a mix of terror and awe, as the sky above the islands had filled with the colossal forms of dragons. Aelar could still feel the phantom heat of their fiery breath, hear the echo of their mighty roars. He'd fallen to his knees then, a tear tracing a path down his cheek, as the legendary creatures soared overhead, blotting out the sun and sending a shiver down his spine.

"There's time yet," Aelar said, his voice firm despite the doubt that coiled in his gut. "Time for word to reach our people, for Mother to arrive with reinforcements. By then, we'll be well on our path to strength, safe from whatever these strangers bring." Rhea gave him a strained smile, but the worry remained, a shadow in her eyes. Aelar knew his words were a flimsy shield against the harsh truth. For all the power the dragon horn promised, no Niran had ridden a true dragon in centuries. Theirs was a faded glory, a legend on the wind, and these strangers, whoever they may be, sailed under unknown banners. “And anyways,” He said, starting to smile again. “I would never allow them to harm any of us anyways. Not after all this time.” Her smile seemed to become more real after that. A sudden burst of frantic movement tore Aelar from his thoughts. He whirled around to see Kamil, Feron, and Ayrn emerging from the trees, their faces etched with terror. Kami, his eyes wide with dread, seized Aelar by the shoulders.

"Don't go near the ruins, Aelar! They're not ours anymore. An unspeakable evil has taken hold there." Aelar bristled, his voice sharp.

"Explain yourselves clearly. This talk of curses is foolishness." But Kamil only shook his head, his fear palpable. A growing unease gnawed at Aelar. These men were seasoned warriors, not prone to childish panic.

"You didn't see it," Feron hissed, his gaze darting nervously. "A wound in the world, reeking of darkness..." His voice trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken. Rhea's brow furrowed in confusion.

"A tear in the world?" Even the return of Altan wouldn't have infused such fear in these men. A cold dread crept down Aelar's spine. Something was terribly wrong, a truth he could almost grasp at the edges of his perception. The raw terror emanating from them was overwhelming. He met Ayrn's gaze. His eyes were wide, a stark contrast to their normal reservedness.

“Take me to this place,” Aelar commanded. Kamil shook his head, too afraid to speak. Feron’s silence spoke louder, and even when Aelar grabbed him by the shoulders and demanded again, Kamil only pushed off his hands, trembling like a child. Aelar turned to Ayrn.

“Take me to this ‘tear’ you speak of,” he said, not as a prince, but with the authority of a king. Yet Ayrn, too, resisted.

“No human is meant to see that, Aelar. We’re not supposed to go there. We shouldn’t even stay here knowing it’s there.” He rubbed his temples, his voice betraying a hint of fear. “It was nothing like you’ve ever seen. It reeked of evil, otherworldly. It couldn’t have been from this world.” Ayrn’s eyes widened as he spoke, his voice trembling.

“I don’t know what scared us more,” Feron added tentatively. Rhea’s narrowed eyes fixed on him, but Feron could only shake his head, afraid.

“We must leave, Aelar. This is no longer our home. Perhaps it once was, but that was thousands of years ago,” Ayrn insisted, shaking his head. Aelar slapped him across the face. Ayrn didn’t fall back or cry out; he simply touched his cheek where Aelar had struck him, the mark of his hand clearly visible. Rhea looked at him in shock, and the fear in Feron and Kamil’s eyes faded into wary defiance.

“We will go nowhere,” Aelar hissed, fury shaking him. The mere suggestion of abandoning all they had worked for was absurd. This was his home. It had always been the home of his ancestors, and it would remain his. He couldn’t accept defeat to such foolishness. Ayrn eyed him coldly, his gaze like chips of ice.

“Aelar, you should calm yourself. Come, splash some water on your face,” Rhea urged, guiding him away hurriedly. He followed her, the weight of his anger heavy on his shoulders. They reached a small basin filled with cool, clear water. Aelar dipped his hands into it, the cold seeping into his skin and sending a shiver up his spine. He splashed his face, the shock of the water momentarily clearing his mind.

“Listen to them, Aelar,” Rhea said softly, her voice a balm to his fury. “They are scared for a reason. We must understand what we are dealing with before we make any decisions.” Aelar met her gaze, his breath steadying.

“You think I am wrong?”

“I think you are strong, but strength alone will not guide us through this. We need wisdom, and we need to listen to those who have seen this ‘tear.’” Rhea’s eyes were filled with concern. Aelar sighed, looking back at the group. Feron and Kamil still looked wary, while Ayrn’s gaze was still cold and perhaps fury was what lit them.

“What would you have me do, then?” Aelar asked, his voice softer, though the edge of authority remained.

“Talk to them. Understand their fears. And if it is truly as dangerous as they say, perhaps we can find a way to confront it together. Abandoning our home is not an option, but neither is blind defiance.” Rhea’s hand rested on his arm, grounding him. Aelar nodded, returning to the group. He stood tall, his resolve tempered by the counsel of his betrothed.

“Speak,” he commanded, though the edge of his earlier fury was gone. “Tell me more of what you saw..” Ayrn stepped forward, still rubbing his cheek.

“It was a rift, like the world itself was torn open. Shadows moved within it, and a coldness I’ve never felt before. It was as if the very essence of evil was seeping through. We are not meant to go near it, let alone confront it unprepared.”

“And yet, we must,” Aelar said firmly. “This is our home. We will not flee from it. We will find a way to seal this tear, or to understand it at the very least.” For a moment the only sounds that they could hear were of the tides washing on the beach but then Kamil spoke again.

“Kill me if you must but I refuse to go back there, Aelar. Not even you could make me do that.” Aelar felt his fury rising again, Rhea's touch to his arm soothed him almost immediately. He didn’t sigh nor did he rub his temples because he knew in times like these men needed an unyielding leader. That was what he was.

“Then we will wait here until my mother arrives. From now on no one is allowed to go into the forest except for me. If such things will drive you into fear such as this then it is best we avoid it.” Feron nodded, seeming relieved but Kamil still looked jittery.

"That's fine with me," Ayrn said coldly, turning his back and walking towards the shore. Aelar watched him go, frustration bubbling beneath his composed exterior. Ayrn had always been distant and cold, rarely offering a smile or laughter. Yet, he had been Aelar’s companion for his entire life. Aelar felt a pang of guilt for striking him, even if it was justified in his eyes.

"You should apologize to him," Rhea said softly. In her eyes, Aelar saw his own reflection: his gray Nirani skin, red and golden hair, and piercing red eyes. Yet, he felt lost, unsure if an apology was the right course of action. Aelar didn’t understand what he needed to do, let alone what he wanted to do. Apologizing to Ayrn would mean sacrificing a bit of his pride and dignity, something he wasn't willing to do. It had been one small mishap, after all.

"Let him learn it was for the better," Aelar said firmly. "I will not apologize to him. That is what a leader would do. If a king were to apologize for every small mistake to every peasant in his lands, he would be no king." Rhea sighed, her expression a mix of concern and resignation.

"Being a leader also means knowing when to show humility, Aelar. But I understand your point. Just... don’t let your pride cloud your judgment." Aelar nodded, appreciating her words even if he couldn't fully embrace them. He watched Ayrn’s figure grow smaller as he walked away, feeling the weight of leadership pressing down on him. He had to be strong, for himself and for his people. There was no room for doubt, not now.