Whispers in the Hall
A week passed.
At dawn, palace maids swept the marble corridors. Guards stood tall, but even they snuck glances at the First Prince as he passed.
Kael walked through his family's home like a ghost. Each step echoed in halls that once praised him — now, they barely remembered he existed.
"Another magicless royal...""King Darius favors the Second Prince now.""That child should never have been born."
Kael heard it. Every word. Every whisper.
But his face showed nothing.
He had learned the art of silence. Of surviving while ignored.
The New Queen
Queen Alera, the king's new wife, had arrived weeks ago.
A noblewoman from the northern empire, beautiful and ambitious — her arrival had shifted the balance of the court. Whispers suggested the king married her not for love… but for hope.
Hope of a powerful heir.
Kael's stepmother never once looked him in the eye.
To her, he wasn't a son.
He was a placeholder.
Two Births, One Storm
Soon, fate struck twice.
Kael's mother, the gentle and frail Queen Elaina, gave birth to a daughter: Princess Elira — a soft, golden-haired angel who clung to Kael like her world revolved around him.
The entire palace lit up with celebration.
But not for Elira.
Because just days later, Queen Alera gave birth to Prince Lucien — a baby who emitted a burst of raw magical energy the moment he opened his eyes.
The sky thundered.
Stars shifted.
A baby with power… a "true heir."
The nobles rejoiced.
The First Prince faded even further into the background.
The Heart That Still Believed
Only three people remained at Kael's side:
Zara, his rough-edged brawler friend who trained with underground mercs to get stronger than the noble kids.
Aeris, the shadow-dancer, always watching, always quiet — but never far from Kael's side.
And of course, Elira, who climbed into his arms every night and said, "You're still my favorite prince."
That night, Kael watched Elira sleep, her small hand gripping his shirt.
"I have no power," he whispered into the darkness. "No place. No value."
"Then make one," came Aeris's voice from the shadows.
"You don't need a crown," Zara added from the doorway. "You need a reason."
Kael didn't respond.
But his fingers curled into a fist.
A flicker of something stirred in his soul — a memory? A spark?
He couldn't tell.
The Dream of Fire
That night, Kael dreamed.
He stood on a battlefield beneath a shattered sky. Gods fell from the heavens. Galaxies screamed. He held a burning spear — taller than himself, glowing with divine script.
He was covered in blood.
A voice called out from the void:
"You broke the laws. You destroyed the balance. You are no longer a god."
Another voice whispered — softer, more familiar.
"You saved us all. But they will never understand."
Kael turned — and saw a throne of black stone. And upon it, a mask.
His mask.
The Divine Seal Awakens
Back in the waking world, Kael gasped — eyes wide — as a mark burned faintly on his back.
A sigil.
A divine brand long thought erased.
But the gods had failed.
Zerion, the fallen god… was beginning to awaken.
Meanwhile, in the Celestial Realm…
A dark hall of fallen stars.
Seven thrones. Six gods. One throne empty.
A glowing orb hovered above the center — showing Kael, sleeping restlessly.
"He lives," said one.
"He remembers," said another.
"This must not continue," growled a third.
The seventh throne remained silent.
Empty.
Waiting.