Kael journeyed west, moving deeper into a land both unfamiliar and fading. With each mile, signs of life dwindled fields untended, roads cracked and forgotten, old waystones worn bare. The sky hung heavy, dim even in daylight, and a strange chill lingered in the wind, as though the earth itself had not warmed in weeks.
Yet Kael walked with purpose.
He was searching not just for the truth of what the world had become, but for answers about himself. The power that flowed through him was vast, but there were gaps echoes of something ancient, something sealed away.
Something he was meant to awaken.
The Tower Without Flame
On the third day, he came upon a hilltop fortress long since abandoned.
A black stone tower rose from the hill's heart, surrounded by collapsed walls and overgrown gardens. The tower was silent, but not empty. Magic clung to it like dust old, broken, and forgotten.
Kael approached carefully, his instincts flaring. The tower had once belonged to mages, that much was clear. Their wards, though shattered, still sparked faintly beneath his steps.
Inside, the halls were littered with tomes, scrolls, and cracked sigil stones. Strange devices lay half-dismantled, their enchantments long faded.
But what caught Kael's attention was the circle in the center chamber a ritual site marked in glowing blue runes, now flickering weakly. At its center sat a stone pedestal, and atop it, an empty cradle of silver.
A seal meant to contain great power.
But the power was gone.
And so was whatever had been imprisoned there.
Visions in dust
As Kael approached, the circle flared to life. For a moment, light flooded the room, and whispers filled the air a thousand voices speaking all at once.
Then a vision.
He stood in a time not his own, watching as robed figures argued in desperation. Their faces were blurred, but their panic was clear.
"He must never awaken!" one cried.
"It's already begun," said another. "The boy was born. The seal weakened the moment he breathed."
"We should've destroyed him—"
"We couldn't. He's the Key. The only thing that can stop Him."
A flash of blue eyes.
A cradle.
And then darkness.
The vision shattered, and Kael dropped to his knees, gasping.
They were talking about him.
He wasn't just abandoned.
He was sealed.
Hidden. Suppressed.
On purpose.
The Unraveling
Kael rose to his feet, fury and confusion churning inside him. Who were those figures? What had they sealed him from? What truth had they buried in magic and time?
He placed his hand on the silver cradle and in response, the circle beneath his feet burned bright.
A single rune remained intact. One word, written in a script older than any known tongue.
Kael couldn't read it. But his soul remembered it.
"Sovereign."
He stepped back, the pieces beginning to fall into place. His abandonment hadn't been a mistake. It had been intentional. Calculated.
A child born with power the world feared.
A child suppressed, not for his safety but for the world's.
The Return of the Sentinels
As Kael stepped out of the tower, the skies darkened. He turned and saw movement in the forest below.
Three figures approached, clad in white and silver, their faces hidden behind mirrored masks. They bore staffs etched with runes, and each pulsed with the hum of containment magic.
Kael recognized the aura immediately.
These weren't wanderers.
They were Sentinels agents of the old Orders tasked with sealing or destroying threats too dangerous for the world to face.
They were here for him.
"You were not meant to awaken," one said, voice cold and hollow.
Kael's hands slowly clenched. "You sealed me."
"We preserved the world," another corrected. "You are a mistake."
The wind stirred behind Kael. The ground trembled.
"I'm not the one who's going to burn it," Kael said softly. "But I might be the only one who can stop it."
Without another word, the Sentinels raised their staffs
And the battle began.
The world may have forgotten him…
But now, even its hidden guardians would learn:
The Forsaken Sovereign had returned.