Chapter 2: A Prince Without Power
454 Words
Morning sunlight spilled across the palace courtyard, but it did little to brighten Azul’s mood.
He sat alone on the stone steps outside the training grounds, staring at the bruises on his hands.
Another day.
Another defeat.
Another reminder that he was the only member of the royal family whose sacred power had never awakened.
The whispers had become impossible to escape.
“He’s a disgrace.”
“The kingdom deserves a stronger heir.”
“I heard Bashan could defeat him with one hand.”
Azul lowered his head, pretending not to hear them.
He had learned long ago that arguing with rumors only made them spread faster.
“You should’ve hit him harder.”
The familiar voice made him look up.
Bashan stood a few steps away with his arms folded, wearing the confident grin that had become all too familiar.
“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you,” Bashan said. “You did that yourself.”
The guards nearby exchanged uneasy glances but remained silent.
No one wanted to interfere.
Not when Bashan was involved.
Azul slowly rose to his feet.
“Are you done?”
Bashan chuckled.
“Not until you admit you’re unfit to inherit the throne.”
A small crowd began gathering around them.
Some expected another fight.
Others simply wanted entertainment.
Azul tightened his fists.
“I don’t need to prove anything to you.”
“No?”
Bashan stepped closer until only a few inches separated them.
“Then prove it to the kingdom.”
For a brief moment, silence settled over the courtyard.
Azul wanted nothing more than to wipe that arrogant smile off Bashan’s face.
But he knew the outcome.
Without awakened power…
He would lose again.
He turned away.
The crowd erupted into mocking laughter.
“Coward!”
“The prince is running away!”
Their words struck deeper than any blade.
As Azul walked through the palace gardens, he barely noticed the blooming flowers or the gentle breeze.
His thoughts were elsewhere.
Why am I different?
What am I missing?
He had trained harder than anyone.
He had sacrificed sleep, comfort, and even friendships.
Yet the power every royal was born to wield remained silent within him.
By sunset, he found himself standing at the edge of the ancient cliffs overlooking the Endless Stream.
The elders often warned the younger generation to stay away from the place.
They claimed the waters carried memories older than the kingdom itself.
Azul stared into the rushing current below.
“I’ll find the answer,” he whispered.
“No matter what it costs.”
Far beneath the roaring water…
Something stirred.
Watching.
Waiting.
As if it had finally heard the voice it had been searching for.
- Writer
