The sun hung heavy over the red dust of the Rift Valley, casting long shadows across the stone walls of the Great Citadel. Prince Kaelo stood on the balcony, watching his father’s cavalry ride through the training grounds. The thunder of hooves sounded like the heartbeat of the earth itself. Every soldier moved with a terrifying precision that reminded everyone why the King of the Highlands was feared from the coast to the mountains.
Kaelo felt the weight of that fear in his own chest. He did not want to be feared, he wanted to be a shield for the people who lived in the shadow of these walls.
A sudden commotion erupted at the main gate. The rhythmic pounding of heavy wood against iron echoed up the spiral stairs. Kaelo turned, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his ceremonial blade. It was not the usual arrival of traders or emissaries.
The guards were shouting, their voices laced with a frantic edge that Kaelo had never heard before.
He moved through the corridors with purpose, his cloak billowing behind him. As he reached the courtyard, he saw a group of riders slumped in their saddles. They were not from the neighboring tribes, nor were they from the great desert kingdoms. Their armor was scorched and blackened, as if they had ridden through a furnace.
The leader of the group fell from his horse, gasping for air. Kaelo knelt beside the man, ignoring the protests of his advisors. The man grabbed Kaelo by the forearm with a grip that felt like iron. His eyes were wide with a terror that transcended physical pain.
The shadow is coming, the man whispered, his breath smelling of smoke and old blood. It is not a war of men, but a war of something much older.
Kaelo looked up at the darkening sky. The sun was still high, yet a strange and unnatural chill began to sweep across the plains. The peace of his kingdom was dying, and the life he had prepared for was vanishing before it had even truly begun.
Discussion 1
Good Story, add next episode