Chapter 2
765 Words
"In the 80th era of the Duran Dynasty, the negligent King Duran allowed the rise of King Prosper, whose knights stormed the capital of Atlantica and founded the new city of Likorn, ushering in Prosper's glorious reign." So read the chronicles of the Blanca Continent.
The Kelberon clan was revered as the "Shield and Sword of the King." In antiquity, before the first Duran monarchs had fully conquered the realm, the Kelberons' chieftains possessed a mystical power to summon mighty beasts from other planes. This ability proved invaluable, elevating them to indispensable status as they paved the Durans' path to the throne. In gratitude, they were awarded fertile lands near the central kingdom and noble titles.
While summoning skills abounded in Blanca, the Kelberon bloodline alone commanded dominion over interdimensional beasts. For centuries, their power lay dormant - a slumbering lion among the realm's magic wielders.
After the Duran bankruptcy, King Prosper the First's iron rule transformed Blanca, the preeminent magic continent, in a mere decade. The land's magical capacity quintupled, and surrounding territories swiftly pledged fealty. Acolytes flocked from far and wide to study, and Blanca's mages became the most coveted across kingdoms.
As new generations arose, the populace gradually transitioned from identifying as "Durans" to "Prosperans," yet curiosity lingered about the fabled Kelberon abilities.
But some had not forgotten the indignity of the past.
Eight years prior, when Lyralei was but eight years old, she had pestered her father to read her poetry, as she often did on lazy afternoons.
"My darling, it's time for your nap," the aging Kelberon patriarch soothed, stroking her hair.
"No, I want a story!" Her pout was irresistible.
Obliging his daughter, he led her to the grape arbor. The vines coiled into a pair of woven chairs - one large, one small - and Kelberon settled in, opening his book of verse as Brenik naturally fell into place behind Lyralei, gently combing her tresses.
None could have foreseen the cataclysm about to unfold.
As Lyralei drifted toward slumber, her father signaled Brenik to carry her inside. But then, the first invader materialized, bones grotesquely straining against taut skin in an inhuman guise. With brutal swiftness, he flung a glowing ring that constricted around the elder Kelberon's throat.
Slammed to the ground, Kelberon fought to channel his runes, stunned to find his summoning abilities suppressed by the strange ring. Gasping for air, his livid features contorted in confusion and shock upon beholding the aggressor.
Lyralei cried out, lunging for her father, but wave after wave of intruders swarmed the courtyard.
The first invader leveled his blade at the choking patriarch. "Take Kelberon - deal with the others swiftly, then join the march on the central palace!"
"Yes, sir!"
As his cohorts advanced in a semicircle to separate Lyralei and Brenik, the latter triggered defensive wards, instantly vaporizing the closest assailants. Shielding the young princess, he prepared to retaliate against the leader.
"Go! Get Lyralei to safety!" her father wheezed desperately.
"As expected from Kelberon's chief..." The leader's snarl twisted into a sadistic grin. "But without him, Duran's legacy amounts to naught!"
In that insane moment, Brenik acted on instinct, carving an escape path as he cradled Lyralei's trembling form and fled the massacred courtyard, her father's harrowing screams echoing behind them.
"Don't be afraid...you're safe..." Brenik murmured urgently against her ear, though his own ragged breathing belied his terror.
Strewn along their route lay the palace guards' broken bodies - a grim portent of the invasion's staggering scale. Outside, a sea of invaders brandished crimson banners, crashing like a tidal wave against the capital's defenses.
Bellowing war cries, some carried obsidian shields and blades while others wielded bludgeons hefty enough to splinter bone. Taller and burlier than any human, their scale-ridged hides cloaked in mesh armor, they swept through the ranks of Duran's royal knights with unstoppable force and feral intensity.
The foreign cavalry's iron hooves thundered through Atlantica's streets as the unthinkable unfolded. The subjugation of the Kelberons was a devastating omen - one the realm was utterly unprepared to face as the aggressors poured into the city's heart, igniting the inferno of Prosper's conquest.
"Onward, cavaliers! The Kelberons are defeated - the kingdom will be ours!"
On that fateful day, a warlord named Prosper led his army to behead the last Duran king and raze the dynasty to oblivion.
"In the 80th era of the Duran Dynasty, the negligent King Duran allowed the rise of King Prosper, whose knights stormed the capital of Atlantica and founded the new city of Likorn, ushering in Prosper's glorious reign."
- Writer
