The auroral heavens trembled with the mournful clangs of the monastery's great bells, a solemn war cry resonating through the city, casting a pall of grief over the Castle's inhabitants.
The very foundations of the realm seemed to shudder, as though the fabric of reality itself was being rent asunder.
Cervantes, the Lunar Prince, awakened with a start, his wrists cuffed to the Queen's great bed.
Shirtless, his chest heaved with ragged breaths as he struggled against the shackles.
The golden light of dawn crept through the linen curtains, casting an eerie glow over the room.
"Polaris!" he gasped, his voice hoarse with urgency.
Suddenly, he teleported in a haze of blinding light, golden hues meticulously fading away.
The Lunar Prince appeared in the intricate interiors of his regal chambers, grabbing freshly fragrant dark clothing, and vanishing once again with a crackling spark of sunlight.
He reappeared in Polaris' rosy chambers, the infamous crime scene.
The room was in disarray, the bedclothes torn and scattered.
Cervantes' eyes scanned the room, his mind racing with the implications of the scene before him.
It took barely a second for him to observe the scratches on her concrete window frames.
Brushing a finger through the markings, the Lunar Prince envisioned the grappling hook strike at the still of night.
Numerous suspects clouded his mind, yet the name on his lips was the Lord of the Tempest, Tadmor.
He banged a fist on the wardrobe in frustration, the sound echoing through the chamber.
"It was all a setup," he muttered to himself, his voice laced with rage and regret.
Usually, he watched over his baby sister, vigilantly, until she fell asleep, and went the extra mile, to check up on her at midnight.
The one night he let his guard down, the adversaries had crept in, like a serpent in a nesting.
Trusting his instinctive suspicions, Cervantes teleported out the scene in a blaze of stunning radiance.
He reappeared at the fanciful balcony of Archernar's chambers, the Emperor's majestic form silhouetted against the rising sun.
The balcony was enchantingly decorated, the fragrance of pollination in the air, an amalgamation of natural and synthetic fascinations.
Assorted flowers, bearing all sorts of colorations, were situated at every corner, and the brick walls bore the smoothness of icing on cake, flawlessly constructed.
Cervantes spotted his father, the great Emperor of Lunarfrost, lamenting with big brawny hands resting on the railings of gold.
His head was bowed lowly, his countenance fallen.
Despite rigorous years of experience in warfare, the Emperor possessed a fragile heart, one that bore the stench of weakness, as the cruel described emotions.
"My son," Archernar's voice was husky with emotion, "I fear we have been deceived.
Polaris, your sister, has been taken from us."
Cervantes' eyes widened in shock, his mind reeling with the implications.
"Father, I..." he began, but the Emperor's gaze silenced him.
"Do not speak, my son," Archernar's voice was stern, yet laced with a deep sadness.
"You were entrusted with a simple task, to deliver a message. Yet, you failed.
And now, my daughter is gone."
Cervantes felt a surge of guilt and anger, his fists clenched at his sides.
"I was deceived, Father," he protested.
"Queen Phecda, she instilled a strange elixir in my tea.."
"Your tea?
Had I ordered you to dine with the Queen of Diamondhelm?" Archernar's interrogations were scrutinizing.
A rush of guilt engulfed the young Prince, he was never one to aggravate the Emperor.
"Negative, Father.. but she insisted.."
"Perhaps I should have deployed my own son to the islands of Fossils, where the unending war persists?
Yet I send innocent soldiers, good men! Who have families.. wives, children to cater for.
They risk their lives to serve the country, with honor and dignity.
Yet, I preserve you!
Promote you over the very men who sacrifice themselves for your safety, our safety!
Perhaps you're unworthy to serve?"
Bold teardrops trickled down his eyes like gentlemen.
Cervantes, empathic as always, engulfed in remorse, fighting the tears that lingered in his own eyes.
"Apologies, Father.. Your Majesty," he stuttered.
"Enough!" Archernar's voice boomed, echoing off the balcony walls. "You will not shift the blame, my son.
You shall take responsibility for your actions. You are a Prince of Lunarfrost, and it is time you acted like one."
Cervantes felt a stinging sensation, as if his father's words had struck him like a physical blow.
"I will not fail again, Father," he vowed, his voice firm and resolute. "I will find Polaris, and I will bring her home."
Archernar's gaze narrowed, his eyes piercing.
"See that you do, my son," he said, his voice dripping with an unspoken threat.
"For if you fail, I fear that all will be lost."
The Emperor's words hung in the air, a challenge and a warning.
Cervantes knew that he had to act, and act quickly.
With a deep breath, he turned to face his father, his eyes locked on the Emperor's.
Archernar's gaze held his, a searching look that bored into his very soul.
Then, with a nod, the Emperor turned away, his gaze sweeping out over the city.
"The time for words is over, my son," he said, his voice carrying on the wind.
"The time for action has begun.
Put on your armor!
For things are about to get messy.
My son, we are officially at war!"
Cervantes watched as his father strode away, his golden armor glinting in the morning light.
"Summon the Earl of Suncrest!" the Emperor ordered the guards who bowed solemnly and exited the chambers.
With a deep breath, the Lunar Prince turned to face the city, his eyes scanning the rooftops and towers.
He knew that Polaris was out there, somewhere, and he was determined to find her.
The city stretched out before him, a vast and complex tapestry of stone and steel.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the challenge ahead.
The streets were crowded and noisy, the sounds of merchants and traders filling the air.
Cervantes glanced through the throngs, eyes scanning the faces beneath him.
Cognizant that he was looking for a needle in a haystack yet, determined to find it.
He would not rest until Polaris was safe.
The Southern city seemed to grow darker and more menacing.
The shadows deepened and lengthened, Cervantes could feel eyes watching him from the alleys and windows.
He understood that he was being monitored, yet he would not be intimidated.
The sun was high overhead, casting a golden glow over the city.