in silence, Mairell's voice a distant hum as she tended to a child's bruised ankle by the threshold. Though no crown r

ong the villagers of Elyn

sed, it was clear th

ad risen not only to power but to legend. Zazeal, now fully enthroned, ruled with fire and fear.

ea clans of Tarhyn bend their knees. His armies moved like storms, banners of red and black cutting t

is name. And in the dead of night, r

ded him: the shad

ies scoured the world, and still, the fugitive prince remained a ghost. And Zaz

he saw its echoes. Traders fleeing taxation. War orphans with Westonian coins in

's heartbeat. He did not seek followers, yet they came. He did no

ame th

entire farming outpost was burned, livestock stolen, families slain. Elyndor's

the room, watching them bicker while

he said finally, "while the bodie

on him, th

spat one of the councilmen.

ly. "But I have buried my kin. I know the weight of fire an

he

hing but the sword he had shaped

tched him disappear be

later, he

al

battered, but alive. The crowd gathered in disbelief as mothers scream

are, an old man fell to his k

ot a prince. Not a k

eal began to grow-withou

, Zazeal's ears caught every

dvisors bowed in awe-but the king

ea

thread of

wer of his newly forged

anded. "Burn whatev

silence that followed was hea

e was afraid because while his mighty deeds were spoken about all over

rmer, shaved his hair and beards, and puts on farming