"He will come and destroy you! You will resist, but nothing will stop him, nothing will end him; he will come from the depths of darkness that you didn't even know existed, and you won't be able to do anything because it will be his curse as well.
"NOTHING!!!"
"HAAAGGGGHHH!!!" The sound of the deep breath filled the air of the room, which was filled with all the glory and gold that could only be possessed by a king.
It was the room of a king, King Cohen of Inglos. The Inglosian royal family had single-handedly conquered the super-continent of Aurelion, and for the past 500 years, they've never been defeated, and of course, they couldn't, because they possessed the one thing no other human did... Magic.
The sound of his door opening with a wooden creak filled his luxurious room, and the squeamish voice of the royal guard asked,
"Are you alright, M'Lord?"
"Close the door!" Cohen commanded calmly.
He got out of his silk bed and stepped on the cold wooden floor. He opened the royal-looking window and walked out to the balcony, as he looked over the resource-rich kingdom of Indura.
The tribal lands that were once ruled by the tribal leader were now a part of his empire, and he looked over it with a sense of accomplishment, but his nightmares worried him. Not even the rising Sun that colour the sky gold relieved his tension.
Just as he was contemplating what his nightmares could mean, the sound of a door creaking interrupted his chain of thought. He looked back and the Royal guard was standing there once again.
The guard squeamishly asked,
"M'lord princess Amara is dressed and is waiting for you at the royal diner."
Cohen sighed as he remembered that it was his daughter's coming of age ceremony, the day she turns 18.
"Tell the princess that I will be there." He commanded the guard.
"As you say M'lord." The guard said as he walked out closing the door of Cohen's room.
Princess Amara of Inglos was the sole child of King Cohen, he loved her dearly, but throughout the empire she was known as the "Mother-eater" since her mother had passed during her birth. No one dared to disrespect her but it was all due to the fear of the King.
Amara had blonde silky hair, that when hit by the wind looked like gold following its direction, she had an almost porcelain skin and the trademark emerald eyes of House Inglos. The eyes that signified their ability to use magic.
She was sitting patiently at the diner waiting for her father and when he came her face lit up. She brisked towards him and embraced him lightly. Her innocence radiated the world for Cohen and made him forgert of his nightmares.
"My lovely daughter, today you turn 18 meaning, you need a knight of your own." He said,
"I know that father, and I am very excited about tournament." She said in a giddy manner.
Cohen brushed a strand of her golden hair behind her ear, his calloused fingers contrasting her gentle softness. "Excited is good," he said, though the heaviness in his voice betrayed him. "But remember, this is not merely a show of steel and strength. The knight you choose today will guard your life… and your future."
Amara nodded, still smiling, still unaware of the way her father's emerald eyes clouded whenever the nightmares returned to him. She took her seat again, folding her hands neatly over the polished table. Servants rushed forward with trays of silver and crystal, but the king waved them away.
"No feast today," he said. "We'll eat after the tournament. Let us not waste the daylight."
The servants bowed and retreated in silence, and the great hall, usually drowning in the noise of nobles and minstrels, remained quiet enough to hear the distant clatter of armor from the outer grounds.
Amara tilted her head. "Father… are you sure you're well? You look pale."
"I'm fine," he lied, as easily as he breathed. "Come. We don't want the crowd waiting."
He offered his arm, and Amara, light as a feather, hopeful as sunrise, linked hers through it. Together, they exited the royal diner, and the long marble hallway stretched before them like the spine of the palace itself. Guards stood at every archway, their armor lacquered in emerald and silver, the colors of House Inglos. Each guard bowed deeply as the pair passed, yet their eyes flickered with something unspoken, fear, awe, reverence. Perhaps all three.
Cohen walked steadily, but every distant clang, every sudden echo of footsteps, made his pulse tighten. The dream still lingered in him like smoke beneath the skin.
He will come and destroy you… nothing will stop him…
He pressed his lips together. Nonsense. Just shadows of the mind. And yet, for the first time in years, Cohen, the undefeated conqueror of a continent, felt the creeping chill of uncertainty.
The deeper they went into the palace, the more the energy shifted. Nobles in long embroidered coats hurried toward the arena, whispering among themselves. Young warriors from the noble houses strutted in their house colors, some already boasting, others silent and calculating. Foreign emissaries watched them all with narrowed eyes, studying the empire's traditions the way hawks study prey.
She spoke with the awe of someone seeing the world expand right in front of her. Cohen forced a smile for her sake.
"They will all fight today," he said softly. "But only one will kneel before you by sunset."
They passed through the final set of towering iron gates, guarded by two colossal statues, ancient kings from an age when magic had been raw and untamed. Beyond them lay the Tournament Grounds, a massive stone coliseum that could hold twenty thousand voices… and every single seat seemed to be taken.
The roar of the crowd hit them like a living wave.
Banners snapped in the wind. Drums thundered. Trumpets sang through the morning air with the pride of nations behind them. Warriors lined the arena floor, shields, spears, swords, halberds, enchanted relics glowing faintly under the sun's touch.
At the center of the coliseum stood the Grand Herald, draped in green and silver robes, holding a staff topped with a floating emerald flame.
As soon as Cohen and Amara stepped into sight, the crowd erupted into cheers so loud the stone beneath their feet seemed to tremble.
"Presenting His Majesty," the Herald boomed, "Cohen of House Inglos—Sovereign of Aurelion, Master of Magic, and the weilider of the Crimson Crown!"
The cheers swelled.
"And presenting Princess Amara of Inglos—Heir of the Emerald Throne, the Chosen of Light, and celebrant of her eighteenth year!"
At that, the crowd stood as one, bowing, chanting her name, the stadium shaking with admiration and fear.
Amara looked overwhelmed, but she held her head high, moving with a grace that belonged to rulers, not children.
Cohen led her to the royal balcony. Once she was seated, he stepped forward to the edge, raising a single hand.
Silence fell instantly.
His voice, when he spoke, carried both pride and an unspoken dread.
"Warriors of Aurelion… today, my daughter chooses her shield. Today, you fight not for bloodshed, not for land, and not for glory alone…"
He glanced briefly at Amara, his voice softening just a fraction.
"…but for the honor of protecting the future of this realm."
The wind tugged at his cloak. The crowd waited.
Cohen raised his hand higher.
"Let the Tournament of the Emerald Heir, BEGIN!"
The Grand Herald slammed his emerald-flamed staff into the ground.
A blast of green light shot into the sky
the drums thundered
the gates around the arena opened
And the Tournament commenced.