The night air was thick with power. Eldoria trembled beneath the weight of forces unseen, its ancient spires humming with untamed magic. A storm was brewing, not one of wind and rain, but of betrayal, of blood, of fire and ice.
Prince Kael moved like a phantom through the corridors of his tower, his presence crackling with restrained energy. He was no ordinary magician. He was a Dwar, a wielder of twin elements, thunder and fire. Power surged beneath his skin, caged and waiting. He had never sought the throne, never fought in the vicious games of his kin. But power like his did not go unnoticed.
Now, it has become his curse.
His enemies had finally come for him.
He paused at the chamber's edge, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim candlelight. His wife lay asleep on their bed, her silver hair spilling over silk sheets, her breath steady despite the storm closing in around them. Elira, a woman of ice and frost, born of a rival kingdom where winter never ended. Where Kael's magic was a raging inferno, hers was a silent tundra. They were opposites in every way, yet bound by something deeper than magic.
He stepped closer, hesitating for only a breath before gently shaking her awake.
"Elira," he whispered. "We have to go."
Her eyes opened, pale blue, sharp as shattered glass. She had always carried the coldness of her element, but tonight, there was something else. A quiet understanding.
"They're here, aren't they?" she asked, already shifting to sit up. She clutched her swollen belly, nine months pregnant, a life waiting to enter a world that would tear it apart before it took its first breath.
A flicker of movement. Kael turned, his magic surging before thought could catch up. Lightning danced at his fingertips as a shadow lunged from the darkness. The assassin struck fast, blade aimed for his throat, but Kael was faster.
A single word left his lips.
The chamber exploded with light.
A bolt of white-hot electricity surged forward, slamming the attacker against the stone wall. The assassin's scream was swallowed by the thunder that followed, shaking the tower to its bones. Kael stepped forward, his golden eyes burning with something primal. He had tried to be the quiet prince. But they had forced his hand.
Elira stood beside him now, her fingers glowing with eerie blue frost. The temperature in the room plummeted, ice creeping across the stone floor. Her voice was steady, but there was a whisper of danger beneath it.
"We won't make it out through the halls. They'll have the gates locked."
Kael nodded. "Then we go through the Veil."
He turned toward the arched window at the far end of the chamber. Beyond it, the floating islands of Eldoria drifted in the endless sky, but far below, veiled in mist, lay the Lower Realm, a place untouched by Eldoria's wars, its magic raw and ancient.
Their only chance of survival.
Kael raised his hand, summoning a swirling vortex of black and gold energy. The room groaned under the pressure of the spell, the air crackling as the portal began to form. Eldoria's magic resisted any attempt to leave its dominion. Breaking through would not be easy.
A sharp clang of metal rang from behind. The door trembled with another strike. More assassins.
Elira stepped forward, her breath misting the air. "Go," she whispered.
Kael wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "Hold on."
The door exploded inward.
The night was torn apart by thunder and ice.