Page 2 of Ashes and Glass (Cursed Kingdoms)

Prince Marius

I slipped through the dense underbrush, my quiver chafing against hunting leathers as dawn painted the sky in hues of amber and lilac. Each step was measured and deliberate, mindful of the forest floor's betraying crackle. This early morning hunt offered more than game; it promised escape—if only briefly—from the suffocating responsibilities that awaited me back at court.

The deeper I ventured, the lighter my burden became. Ancient trees stood sentinel around me, their weathered bark telling stories of centuries past. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with the heady scent of moss and pine, a fragrance no castle perfumer could ever hope to capture. Here, the whispers of courtiers faded, replaced by nature's honest symphony—rustling leaves, distant birdsong, and the soft padding of my own footsteps.

My fingers brushed against the gnarled bark of an ancient oak. Its roots gripped the earth with the same steadfast resolve I intended to embody when ruling Rivendale. In these quiet moments, surrounded by nothing but wilderness, I found the clarity that eluded me within castle walls. Each step drew me further from the looming shadow of Lady Belladonna's reign over neighboring Elaria—a shadow that crept steadily toward my kingdom's borders.

The forest seemed to breathe with me, its serene atmosphere seeping into my bones. Above, the green canopy swayed gently, dappling the forest floor with patches of golden light that danced like flames in a muted hearth. I paused, leaning against a sturdy beech trunk, mesmerized by sunlight playing through leaves, creating illusions of movement where there was none. It was a masterful dance of light and shadow, commanding reverence, and silence.

I was Marius Rivenborn, heir to the throne, guardian of these lands. My destiny was not merely to rule but to protect, to unite the fractured pieces of a realm yearning for peace. The tranquility surrounding me stood in stark contrast to the brewing storm I sensed on the horizon—a storm I must be prepared to face when the time came.

Venturing deeper, my steps found rhythm that mirrored the primal heartbeat of the forest itself. The buck I'd been tracking had led me further than intended, and there was a sense of urgency propelling me onward—not born from the hunt, but from something more profound stirring within me, something I couldn't yet name.

Without warning, the dense trees gave way to an unexpected clearing. A river cut through the forest, so pristine it seemed a figment of imagination. Sunlight fractured upon its surface like shards of crystal, creating a mosaic of light that beckoned me closer. I hesitated, captivated by the interplay of radiance and current, feeling an inexplicable pull toward the glittering waters that flowed with such purposeful grace.

As if compelled by unseen forces, I approached the riverbank. Leaves crunched beneath my boots, a stark counterpoint to the water's gentle murmur. The air cooled noticeably, carrying the distinct perfume of moist earth and water lilies—a fragrance that cleansed my senses and whispered of secrets hidden beneath the surface.

My breath caught as I knelt by the water's edge. Coolness seeped through my breeches as I extended my hand, fingers grazing the surface, expecting the chill of mountain runoff. What happened instead stole the very air from my lungs.

The water began to swirl around my fingers in a delicate dance, weaving intricate patterns as if guided by invisible hands. This was no ordinary response of nature to human touch; the water moved with intention, responding to me as if paying homage to the royal blood coursing through my veins. Astonishment gripped me as I watched, entranced by this unexpected communion.

"Could it be?" I whispered, words scarcely more than ripples in the vast silence. I had unearthed something dormant within me—a legacy awakened by simple contact with this unassuming stream.

Eager to test this newfound connection, I extended my hand once more. With tentative concentration, I willed the water to rise. It obeyed, swirling upward into a hovering sphere that glistened like a perfect sapphire catching sunlight. For a breathless moment, I held it there, suspended by nothing but my own will.

My triumph proved short-lived. Concentration faltering, the sphere burst, showering the bank with a miniature cloudburst. Startled birds took flight from neighboring trees, their indignant cries punctuating my embarrassment. I grimaced, realizing the precision required to wield such power responsibly.

I tried again, focusing harder, attempting to draw water upward in a controlled column. It rose obediently but then lashed sideways, slapping against a stand of ferns with surprising force. I stood there, hands clenched, frustration mounting with each attempt. It was as if I'd been handed the reins to a wild stallion with no knowledge of horsemanship. Each effort ended in small chaos—clear testament to my untrained abilities.

"Control," I murmured, jaw tightening. "You must learn control."

But how? My mind raced through possibilities, each more daunting than the last. Meanwhile, the river flowed on, indifferent to my struggles, its course unchanging as the centuries. Here was my lesson—true mastery lay in harmony with the forces I sought to command, not domination. In that moment, I made a silent vow to seek wisdom, to temper raw power with precision and judgment. I needed guidance from someone who understood the weight of destiny resting upon my shoulders.

"Your Highness," a familiar voice cut through my thoughts, steady as bedrock. Sir Gareth Leomont emerged from the forest shadows, his piercing blue eyes meeting mine with an intensity that stilled the very air between us.

"Sir Gareth," I breathed, relief washing over me before the gravity of his presence anchored me back to reality. "I—"

"Save your explanations, Marius," he interrupted, his tone carrying the weight of unspoken knowledge. He stepped closer, silver streaks in his cropped hair and long beard catching the dappled sunlight. "I have known this day would come—when the dormant magic within you would finally awaken."

My chest tightened as I absorbed his words. How could he have known? Questions formed and died on my lips as he continued.

"Your parents were not ordinary rulers," Gareth revealed, his gaze unwavering. "They wielded elemental magic with a mastery rivaled by none—a gift they passed to their only son. But their power made them targets, leading to their early demise on the battlefield."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice though no one could possibly hear us in this secluded glade. "I was your father's right hand. Maximus and I had known each other since childhood, brothers in all but blood. When he fell, I vowed to protect you, to raise you as my own until the time came for you to claim your birthright."

"Is that time now?" My voice barely rose above the river's whisper, the implications of his revelations washing over me like a flood tide.

"Imminent, but not quite upon us," he assured, resting a weathered hand upon my shoulder—a gesture carrying the comfort of years of mentorship. "We must tread carefully, Marius. Your abilities, while your rightful heritage, could provoke unrest if revealed prematurely. Lady Belladonna watches our borders with a hawk's eye. Any sign of weakness—or strength she cannot counter—will be exploited."

A shiver ran down my spine at the mention of Elaria's ruler, her reputation for ruthless cunning well-known even within Rivendale's guarded walls. I nodded, understanding the delicate balance Sir Gareth had maintained all these years.

"Then what course shall I take?" I asked, feeling the weight of my destiny pressing down with renewed force.

"Train," Gareth replied, voice firm as iron. "Master your powers in secret, with me as your guide. Learn to harness water's flow, its ebb and surge, until you command it with both precision and restraint. Only then can you become the sovereign Rivendale needs."

"Secrets," I mused, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. Yet, as I met Sir Gareth's unwavering gaze, I recognized the truth in his counsel—a truth born from fierce loyalty and desire to see both kingdom and prince thrive.

"Secrets it shall be," I agreed, squaring my shoulders for the challenge ahead. My heart hammered with mingled fear and anticipation for this clandestine journey. But above all, I felt an unexpected unity with the land and people I was destined to lead.

"Very well," Gareth said, approval warming his voice. "We begin at dawn."

The setting sun cast long shadows across the water, now calm and undisturbed, as if honoring the pact between mentor and pupil. As nightfall embraced Rivendale, one certainty crystallized within me: I would rise to meet my fate, whatever it might hold.

Dawn's light crept over the horizon, golden fingers stretching across the land as I stood beside the river that had witnessed my awakening. The hushed murmur of Rivendale stirring to life was but a distant echo compared to the roar of blood in my ears. Today marked the true beginning of my journey toward mastery.

"Concentration is key, Marius," Gareth's voice cut through the morning stillness with the precision of a finely-honed blade. His tall figure stood proudly beside me, armor gleaming in the early light, adorned with the intricate engravings of our kingdom's crest.

"Your intent must be as clear as the water you seek to control," he instructed, eyes narrowed in focus.

I nodded, squaring my shoulders as I faced the river, feeling its pull like a chord tethering my soul to its depths. Drawing a deep breath, I extended my hand and focused my mind on the liquid expanse before me. At first, nothing happened, and doubt whispered its insidious thoughts. Then—a small ripple emanated from where my shadow touched the water, growing into a gentle wave at my silent command.

"Good," Gareth acknowledged, his approval as steady as the earth beneath our feet. "Now maintain it—let the flow become an extension of your will."

I concentrated harder, feeling something stir within me, responding to my determination. The water swirled into elegant patterns, reflecting my growing confidence. The responsibility of this power—the need to wield it in service to Rivendale—anchored me. This was no parlor trick, no fleeting talent; it was my heritage made manifest, my duty given form.

Days melted into weeks, each filled with rigorous discipline under Gareth's watchful eye. He taught me to harness water's essence in all its forms—from coaxing morning dew from leaves to summoning currents strong enough to carve through stone. My muscles ached, my concentration faltered countless times, but I persevered, knowing that every drop of sweat, every moment of frustration, transformed me into the ruler I needed to become.

"Control," Gareth often reminded me, voice stern but never unkind, "is not just about power. It's knowing when to wield it and when to hold back." His teachings etched themselves into my mind, intertwining with the very essence of my being, connecting me to ancestors I'd never known but whose blood and gifts I carried.

The streams now obeyed my slightest gesture, testament to hard-won progress. I could feel water's presence around me even when I couldn't see it—a symphony of movement resonating with my heartbeat. I shaped it into complex forms, let it cascade in controlled torrents, and held it suspended in air like liquid sculpture, marveling at droplets hanging like crystal beads before gently returning to the river.

"Remember, Marius, secrecy is your shield," Gareth would caution as we concluded each session, his eyes scanning the forest for any hint of observation. "For now, your gift must remain hidden like treasure beneath the earth, known only to us."

"Yes, Sir Gareth," I would reply, voice resolute, understanding the gravity of our secret. The knowledge weighed heavily upon me, a constant reminder of the delicate path I walked—a path illuminated by magic and shadowed by unseen dangers.

In those stolen hours by the riverbank, I forged an unbreakable bond with the element that had answered my call. Water became both ally and teacher, a force that tested the limits of my patience and will. As my skills grew, so too did my understanding that Rivendale's future rested, in part, within my hands.

The kingdom needed more than a figurehead; it needed a protector who could unite its people and defend against encroaching darkness. I was determined to become that shield, that beacon. My destiny clarified with each passing day, and I felt increasingly ready to face whatever challenges awaited beyond the tranquil forest clearing.

But when Prince Casimir Blackthorn arrived in Rivendale, an involuntary shiver crept down my spine—as if the very wind whispered warning. I stood atop the castle battlements, watching his procession wind through city gates, a serpentine line of carriages shrouded in banners of onyx and crimson.

"An ill omen," I murmured, fingers tightening around cool stone. The air seemed to thicken, the usual vibrant chatter of the court below now subdued, as though the kingdom itself sensed the malevolent undercurrent accompanying our guest.

Something about Casimir disturbed me—a darkness that clung to him like a second skin. His smile, though perfectly courteous, never reached his eyes, which surveyed the welcoming crowd with calculating precision. His was not the demeanor of a man come in peace, but rather one appraising a kingdom as a predator might assess its hunting ground.

"Keep your friends close, Marius, and your enemies closer still," Sir Gareth had counseled. His wisdom had never seemed more pertinent than now, watching Casimir dismount with the practiced grace of nobility but the cold detachment of one stranger to empathy.

In the days that followed, I observed from a careful distance, feigning cordial indifference while keeping vigilant watch on the prince from the southern Black Desert kingdom. He charmed the court effortlessly, weaving himself into our kingdom's fabric with unsettling ease. But beneath velvet words and honeyed smiles lurked an edge sharp enough to draw blood—and it was this dangerous quality I sought to understand.

I could not shake the feeling that Casimir's arrival heralded some larger scheme, a prelude to turmoil Rivendale could ill afford. My kingdom had known peace for generations; the thought of that tranquility shattering sent a surge of fierce protectiveness through my veins, as potent as the magic I commanded by the river's edge.

"Your training must remain our secret more than ever," Sir Gareth had warned, his usual composure betraying a hint of concern. If Casimir suspected the power I harbored, it could spell disaster not merely for me but for the entire kingdom. And so I practiced in ever-greater secrecy, away from prying eyes, mastering water's dance with fervor born of necessity.

The river remained my sanctuary, the place where I honed my strength and prepared for whatever lurked on the horizon. With each ripple I commanded, each current I bent to my will, I stepped closer to becoming the king Rivendale would need. My fingers trailed through the water as I shaped it with growing confidence—confidence I would need when standing against whatever darkness threatened my people.

"Be ready, Marius," I whispered to my reflection in the water's surface, shimmering with the day's last golden rays. "For the path of destiny is seldom straightforward, and yours has only just begun."