One day, my son, all of this will be yours: my crown, my gold, and the very will of the Veil itself. Your Kin will crave it. Your brothers and sisters will want to destroy you from within. They'll come with smiles—and blades. But not I. I am no enemy. No, I am your shield.
What is a father, if not the one who bleeds so his child never has to?
—Galath Areias, The First
Cadyr Areias
The walker clad in black armour lay at his throne, one arm leaning against both an armrest and his right cheek. The seat was decorated with intricate crosses of golden beams. Seven swords propped out of its backside, glistening against the torchlight of the spacious throne room. Six men and seven women kneeled before him, heads bowed in respect. Only one man stood, perhaps the only one brave enough to look the mysterious King in the eye. The thirteen gathered were all varied in age, some looked as if they were battle-hardened warriors, others barely passing the barrier into adulthood.
The standing man seemed the oldest, aside from the King. They all resembled the walker who had been visiting my dreams in the past few months, dressed in various outfits. They bore a resemblance to the six royal houses of Karouse, each corresponding to one of the six advanced elemental magics. Perhaps his children?
The man began to speak, confirming my suspicions. "Father! This war has gone on too long! Why not just send us to apprehend Velamir together? He could not possibly def—"
"Silence!"
The eldest son stepped back, stunned into obedience.
The King began to speak, his voice calm now, but with a tone of warning. "You may be my eldest, Thalor, but I will not tolerate disrespect from my own Kin." He paused, letting the gravitas of his words fall like heavy boulders from a cliff. "To have my children fight amongst themselves, in place of a father's mistakes. How could I live with myself?"
"But Father! You need not trouble yourself with such a task as this!" A woman spoke. She seemed similar in age to the eldest son, Thalor. "The kingdom would not withstand the loss of our King—"
"You mean to say that our father, Galath Areias—First to Awaken, Chosen of the Veil, Warrior King of Karouse—would fall to his own son?" A voice chimed in, another daughter. They wore a coat of blue and gray. House Myrrwin, of the mist.
"Valiri, stand down." Thalor warned his sister, and she shrank within herself, regretting her words. "Father could slay us where we stand. Without even a strain to his body, if he so willed it, it would benefit you to remember that."
"So it is decided then, I will travel to the east. I will face my son. I will face your brother. I, alone, will atone for my sins."
"Then who will rule the Kingdom in your absence, father?" A new voice interjected, a younger son, perhaps nineteen at most. He wore a green tailcoat, its interior a dark black. House Verdanta, no doubt.
"Is it not clear, Verdanta?" Galath's gaze stayed forward.
Thalor and Valiri stood, meeting their fathers' stare. With only a single nod of acknowledgement, he seemed to transform, glowing with a bright light. The children in attendance cowered, closing their eyes.
They freed their gazes from darkness, but their king, no, their father, had already vanished.
—
I woke, grasping at my sheets. A scene that had grown all too familiar in the past few months.
I glanced to my side through the large glass windows of my chambers. The light had not yet appeared on the horizon, and stars still lit the sky. A full moon lay still, casting silvery light on the golden city below it.
I lifted my bedsheets, barely managing to crawl towards my room's door. The visions from my dreams permeated my consciousness, the images replaying in my mind. The first Walker, Galath. The one Drefyr had spoken of. I had heard whispers of the man. Rumors of his incredible strength, but Altharion, the bookkeeper, offered me nothing more than that.
Pushing the door open, I strolled into the halls of the castle. A red carpet—laced with golden accents, lay at my feet. The walls were built from carved stone, molded by earth attuned Walkers—probably house Drossar, family of the desert sands. Above me, wooden cross beams supported the hallway, spaced apart precisely.
I crossed into the throne room, and my suspicions were confirmed.
The huge, cavernous hall mirrored my dream exactly, as if a direct recreation.
But how? It had been hundreds, if not thousands, of years since the time of Galath. How could this room, this throne, remain untouched for so long?
I stared at the seat where I had been shown the once-sitting ancient King of Karouse. My great, great, great… something, grandfather.
Suddenly, my eyes darted, a movement. I sucked in a breath, not wanting to make noise.
Who could be up at this hour?
Then, I spotted it. A familiar red cape, blowing in the wind. It was my father, pacing along the balcony. I breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps my nerves were on edge, the dreams from the Veil becoming clearer and more vivid every day.
I won't let that stupid thing scare me. I decided.
I opened the door, softly knocking as I stepped onto the balcony overlooking Darrowmere.
My father didn't even turn, as if he knew I would be out there.
"You should be sleeping, son."
"As should you, your majesty," I replied jokingly.
"Perhaps."
Our relationship was not of the hugs and kisses variety. We barely spoke, a stranger within my own house… well, castle. Yet still, I felt that my father cared deeply for me—albeit in his own way.
I remembered that day, when I first participated in the race of the winds. When I had been struck, a bolt of fire. They said it was an assassin, sent from Velamir—the eastern kingdom. My father had rushed forth, slaying the man where he stood. Perhaps it would've been wiser to keep him for questioning, but my father was not always calm and rational when it came to me.
"What are you doing out here, father?" I asked, walking forward to join him at the edge of the terrace. Below lay the capital plaza, a gathering place for when the King or whoever else would make announcements from the very balcony we stood upon.
"I… needed space, as it seems you do some days." He smiled, referencing my once common bouts of "sneaking" out of the castle.
"Well, I wouldn't need space if you didn't keep me locked in here all day. Sometimes, the only other person I talk to is Drefyr. And he's old for crying out loud."
My father seemed to wince at the mention of his half-brother, but he still smiled. "Yes, well. About that." He turned to face me, "The Veilguard tournament, it seems you and Drefyr have decided that you will participate in it this year?"
"Yes, i-if that's okay with you fath—" He dismissed my worries with a wave.
"You are quite old enough, Cadyr, almost old enough to attend Darrowmere academy—thirteen, isn't it?"
I nodded in response.
"I worry only about your mind, son." He continued. "Are you truly ready to face the event where you, no—we, once feared for your life?"
His sudden sentiment caught me off guard. "Did you… hit your head recently, father?"
"You think I care not for my only son?"
"Never!" I exclaimed. "Someone just claimed the King has no heart. Quick, execute them!" My shouts continued to echo down to the empty street.
"You will wake our people."
"Then the faster they will move to help! Help!" I continued to cry, to no avail. My arms waved frantically through the air, as if someone below would spot me and send help. After a beat, I let them fall, no longer joking. "Seriously though, father, did something happen? You are not acting like… well, you."
With a heavy sigh, he released his hands that I had not realized were gripping the balcony railing.
"Come, Cadyr. I have to show you something." And with that, he floated into the air, racing towards the Wildmarch.
"If this ends with me getting eaten by a tree again, I'm gonna haunt you!" I yelled, following him as we flew.
—
We landed, a dense forest of gray elder wood surrounding us. The trees seemed to bend and fold on their own. I realized my father was using his nature magic to manipulate the plants themselves. Earth and water—my exact opposites. With only fire and wind attunements, nature magic was completely out of reach. Since awakening fire, I'd gained access to mist and magma, but I hadn't pushed past lightning, yet.
The trees gave way, opening up a cave that had otherwise been impossible to spot. Its entrance was covered with vines, and the interior was lit only by the moonlight above us.
"Holy sh…" My father cut off the swear with a clearing of his throat. "...shoes. Very holy shoes. Blessed by the gods, apparently."
My father only shook his head, leading me inside.
It was dark, so dark that I could see only my holy shoes as we pressed deeper into the hollow cavity. My father barely spoke, with an air of somberness to his every step. Not that I could see his every step.
"Father, where are you taking me? Please, I'm being serious, if something eats me again we're gonna—" But he raised a hand, stopping me in my tracks.
"Hello, my old friend." He said, and my jaw widened in disbelief.
Stories were told of the four primal beasts. Na'Karuun, the tentacled sea monster inhabiting the ocean between Karouse and Velamir. Zephyr, a serpentine leviathan that was rumored to cut across the heavens themselves. Varnokh, a fiery draconic brute that inhabited the northern mountain range.
And finally, Mornstag, the elk-like guardian of the forests.
And there it stood.
Mornstag, the mythical beast of earth. It was titanic in size, multiple grown men could likely ride along its back. The creature had flourishing antlers, like branches of a tree. They glowed a golden yellow. Small leaves sprouted from them, giving the creature a natural aura—carved from the forest itself. Its coat was laden with moss, and four long, slender legs seemed to stretch on forever into the dark cavern. A mane of vine-like fur cascaded from its neck, offering it protection.
The ceiling widened where it lay, and its lair was illuminated by fireflies floating freely within the space. A small waterfall flowed on our right, dropping into a small pool of water below. Its stream ran across the room, winding like a snake to the opposite wall.
"Greetings, Tharion. This is your son, I suppose?" The creature's deep, echoing voice penetrated my mind, not entirely unlike the Veil's whispers. It seemed to communicate through some sort of mental channel.
"Yes, Mornstag. This is Cadyr."
"Uh— Hi, Mr. Mornstag. It's nice to meet—"
"Ms. Mornstag." It… she, corrected.
"Sorry, I should've known, mother nature and all…" I trailed off, not knowing where my sentence was headed.
"You might be wondering why I've brought you here, son."
"No, not at all."
"He's funny." The voice called out, and if she could laugh, I'm sure Ms. Mornstag would be laughing right now.
"Thank you! Finally, someone who understands me!" I held a hand up, waiting for her to meet my palm. Except, she had no palms. I awkwardly lowered my hand after a beat of silence.
"You may have noticed changes in the Wildmarch recently. Drefyr told me of your encounter with the Cindraks. Four of them on your own? Impressive."
I clenched my teeth, "Yeah, it was really scary, all on my own!" Ren wouldn't be happy that his help was excluded from the story.
"It is because of me. Or rather, the Veil, and its nature." Mornstag seemed to dip her head in apology.
"Because of you? What are you talking about?"
"Something, or perhaps someone, has been stirring recently. The Veil's call has grown weaker in my mind. My control over the forests, the land of the Wildmarch, it's loosening. The magic beasts can all feel it."
"But why?" Even as I asked, I had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with a common blood boy I had met not so long ago.
"It's not entirely clear," My father added, "remember that day, the flood in Kemmerick?"
I nodded, the memories still fresh in my mind. Kemmerick refugees slept in their new homes in the capital as we spoke.
"I had received a message from Mornstag, something had happened, and she is growing weaker by the day." As if he had willed it into existence, Mornstag stumbled, falling to the ground—her long legs buckling under pressure.
"Something is changing, and we need to fix it, or the balance of our world may come undone."
"How? How could we possibly fix it?"
"My brothers and sisters, the other three primal beasts and our descendants—even the royal houses—we must band together to face the new threat."
"What threat?"
Silence.
"What threat?" I asked again, louder.
Mornstag's antlers dimmed slightly, her voice now lower, as if cautious of the stone walls themselves. "A fracture," she said. "The Veil is splitting, slowly, but surely. Magic flows where it should not. Into untested minds. Into unprepared hands."
Father stepped forward. "Power without guidance is chaos. You've seen the Wildmarch, Cindraks in hordes, ordinary animals have even begun accessing the Veil. The Awakenings are no longer limited to royals, nor random."
"So… what, more people getting magic is bad?"
"Not people, Cadyr," my father said calmly. "Children. Peasants. Thieves. Those without titles, without discipline, waking to forces they cannot understand. What begins as a miracle ends as blood in the streets."
Mornstag's head lowered closer to mine. "The Veil does not recognize rulers. But kingdoms must. Or they fall."
"And your plan is?" I asked, hiding the fear in my heart. Ren. I pictured his calm, smiling face in my head. My only friend.
"We must repair this split. We must fix whatever crevasse has appeared in the Veil's will."
"And if this is the Veil's will?" I challenged.
"Then it has forsaken us all."
"How about those people then, those who have awakened?"
"We will find them, and once we have repaired whatever evil is plaguing the Veil, we will free them."
"You're talking about imprisoning our subjects! Innocents! Children!" I roared, barely recognizing my father.
"Necessary precautions for a dire situation, my son. One day, you will understand."
I turned, angry at the world. My father. Mornstag.
"Do what you will, but I will have no part in it." I spat, emotions racing. I turned. Walking away from the cave, alone.
"Cadyr."
I stopped, not turning.
"What?"
"Do not tell your uncle, please." His voice had lost its royal edge—too soft for a king.
I didn't move. "Why?"
He hesitated. Then said, "Because, unlike you, he only understands in black and white. He is not suited to being a King, a ruler. He would try to stop this before understanding what's at stake."
A pause. A breath.
"He would protect the wrong people. He always has."
Another beat.
"And if he suspects what we plan... he'll fracture the court. Split the Houses. Maybe worse."
We stood there, all three of us in silence for what felt like eternity.
"Fine. I won't."
And I left, heart pounding with choices. Ones that could ruin me, everything—the kingdom and its people along with it.