Arkadia

Chapter 2

Terranova

Borak was sleeping peacefully when one of Terranova's soldiers rushed into his room. "King Borak," the soldier said. "A message has arrived from Aeralis." Borak raised his hand, telling the soldier to continue.

"It is a warning from Lady Elyndra. Draven and his army are marching toward Terranova. They are coming to attack our tribe."

Borak did not believe the warning right away. Instead, he placed his hand on the ground and focused, using his connection to the earth to sense if danger was really coming. A moment later, he felt it, a large army was moving toward Terranova."

Prepare the warriors!" Borak ordered. "Get ready for battle!" The soldiers quickly followed his command, but it was already too late.

Draven and his army had arrived. A loud battle cry echoed from outside the kingdom's walls. Draven had begun his attack on Terranova. The burning cliffs of Pyrrathis glowed beneath Draven's feet as rivers of lava flowed between the black rocks. The night sky was filled with thick ash, hiding the moon. Behind him marched a huge army of armored soldiers. Their armor was covered in soot, and their scorched banners waved in the hot wind as they advanced toward Terranova.

Draven stood before them upon a jut of rock, the cloak snapping in the acrid wind. His right hand hung at his side, fingers flexing, as though restless to release what they carried. At his back, the volcano roared, spitting embers into the sky like sparks from a forge.

“Brothers of fire!” His voice carried like thunder across the blackened plain. “For too long we have been caged here, chained to a mountain while the other tribes grow fat on their fertile valleys, their seas, their skies. They hoard their gems, they whisper of balance, of peace.”

He spat the last word, as though it burned his tongue.

“Balance is a lie. Power belongs to those who seize it!”

A roar surged from the army, spears rattling, blades pounding against shields.

Draven raised his right hand.

For the first time before them all, the Fire Gem blazed to life. The stone in his palm pulsed like a living flame, veins of molten light spreading up his arm, through his chest, into his eyes until they burned red as the volcano behind him. Heat burst outward, rolling over the soldiers in a wave that made armor glow and air shimmer.

The army fell to its knees, not from devotion, but from sheer force.

Draven smiled.

“Tonight,” he said, lowering his hand, though the gem still flared like a heart of lava, “we march. The Earth Tribe grows fat in their caves. Their stone will crack before the fire. Their patience will break before my fury. And when their gem lies in my grasp, the others will fall in turn.”

The ground trembled as the soldiers rose, their chants rumbling like thunder. Torches flared to life, though none shone brighter than the fire in Draven’s palm.

He turned toward the horizon, where the smoking cliffs gave way to green valleys beyond, the first veins of Terravorn’s mountain realm visible in the distance.

“Let stone meet flame,” Draven growled. “And let the world tremble at the birth of a new king.”

With that, he raised his arm, and the Fire Gem spat a jet of molten light into the sky. It burst above them in a corona of flame, a signal of war visible across half the world.

The march began. The valleys of Terravorn slept under starlight, their fields heavy with grain, their stone-hewn homes carved neatly into the cliffsides. Children’s laughter still lingered in the night air, fading as shutters closed and hearth-fires dimmed.

But the earth shuddered.

A low rumble stirred the ground, followed by the smell of smoke—thick, bitter, unnatural in the mountain air. Dogs barked, then wailed. Villagers rushed from their homes, eyes wide, as an orange glow bled over the ridges.

The glow had not dawned.

It was a fire.

Flames spilled down the slopes like rivers, torches raised by a sea of warriors clad in blackened steel. Pyrrathis had come.

The first huts burned within moments, straw roofs igniting in shrieks of sparks. Screams split the night. Families fled, clutching what little they could, while Draven’s soldiers swept through with blades flashing, cutting down any who resisted.

At the heart of the assault, Draven strode unarmored, unhurried, his palm lifted. The Fire Gem blazed openly now, hurling arcs of molten flame that consumed whole walls in a single breath.

Behind him, a general shouted, “Drive them into the tunnels! Smoke them out!”

But the ground itself rebelled.

The trembling deepened, growing into a roar. Cracks split the earth, stones heaving upward as if the mountain itself had risen to block the invaders. From the largest fissure, a colossal figure emerged—broad as a boulder, shoulders draped in granite, eyes glowing green like veins of emerald.

Borak had come.

“Enough.” His voice rumbled like rock grinding against rock. His massive hand lifted, and the Earth Gem revealed itself, glowing faintly in his palm. Unlike Draven’s blazing jewel, Borak’s stone shone steady, deep and unyielding.

The gem pulsed once—and the very cliffs obeyed. Walls of stone surged upward, cutting through Draven’s soldiers, halting the flood of flame. Spears shattered against the rising rock. Warriors stumbled back as the ground swallowed their feet.

Draven only laughed, his hair whipping in the heat. “So the stone wakes! I wondered how long it would hide.”

Borak stepped forward, his shadow stretching across the flames. “You came into my mountains with fire,” he growled. “But fire dies, Draven. Stone endures.”

The Fire Keeper lifted his blazing palm, flame roaring into a pillar that towered above them. “Then let us see which endures longer.”

He thrust his hand forward.

A flame slammed into Borak’s wall of stone. The rock blackened, cracked, but held. Borak gritted his teeth, the Earth Gem glowing brighter as he pressed both hands into the soil, reinforcing the barrier.

Yet the village behind him still burned. Screams rose from within the smoke. Children wailed, their homes crumbling despite his efforts. Borak’s jaw tightened, fury igniting in his chest—not at his own pain, but at his failure to shield them all.

With a roar, he drove his fist into the ground. The earth bucked violently, throwing Draven’s front lines off their feet, splitting the battlefield into jagged ravines. Fire soldiers tumbled into the cracks, swallowed by stone.

The flames recoiled—but not enough.

Draven’s gem still burned, wild and eager, consuming even the air. He raised his hand high again, and the fire surged higher, licking at Borak’s walls.

Both keepers stood locked, earth against flame, night sky blazing above them.

But war is never so simple.

A child’s scream cut through the clash. Borak’s eyes darted left—just for a heartbeat—as he saw a young girl trapped beneath a fallen beam, the fire closing around her.

Draven’s grin widened.

The earth shuddered again, weaker this time. Stone could endure—but even stone cracked when forced to shield too many at once.

Borak’s walls held… but his people suffered.