The Call of Astrael

Isolde nodded, her silvery-violet eyes wide. "The dragon in your tattoo represents power and guardianship. The moon symbolizes clarity and wisdom. And the crown… it's a mark of royalty. This is no ordinary tattoo, Lorenzo. This is the symbol of the lost kingdom of Astrael."

"No," Lorenzo whispered, shaking his head. "That's impossible. I'm not connected to any kingdom. I'm just Lorenzo. Just a photographer. That's all I've ever been."

"Lorenzo…" Isolde's voice was gentle but firm. "You're more than that. This mark—it's in your blood. It's who you are."

"No!" His voice rose, filled with desperation. "I can't be tied to some ancient kingdom. This can't be happening."

He turned away from her, his hands trembling as he pressed them to his face. The weight of the revelation was crushing, tearing apart the foundation of everything he thought he knew.

Hours passed, and Lorenzo lay on the couch, unable to sleep. The mark on his torso burned in his mind, and the echoes of Isolde's words haunted him. He pressed his hands over his ears, trying to block out the noise.

"Lorenzo," Isolde said softly, sitting beside him.

He looked at her, his eyes weary.

"Come to bed," she said gently. "You need rest. The couch isn't helping."

"I'm fine here," he muttered, his voice hollow.

"No, you're not." She reached for his hand. "You've been carrying too much. Please."

After a long moment, Lorenzo gave in and moved to the bed. Isolde tucked him under the blanket, her touch careful and tender. As she turned to leave, he grabbed her hand.

"Stay with me," he whispered, his voice raw.

She hesitated, then sat beside him. He held her hand tightly, her presence grounding him. Slowly, his breathing evened out, and the storm within him calmed.

---

A low, melodic sound, ancient and resonant, stirred Isolde from her sleep. It wasn't the soft rustle of leaves or the distant hum of city life she was used to—it was something far more profound. Her silver-violet eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding her expression as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings.

The room was bathed in golden light that seemed to shimmer with its own life. The air was warm and fragrant, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers. Her gaze fell to the figure beside her. Lorenzo lay peacefully, his expression calm, his messy hair tousled from sleep.

She was drawn out of her thoughts when a deep, commanding voice broke the silence.

"Welcome to Astrael."

Isolde's head whipped toward the sound. Standing at the foot of the bed was a wolf unlike any creature she had ever seen. Its fur was a luminous silver, its eyes mesmerizing—one a fiery crimson, the other a piercing ocean blue, similae to Lorenzo. It radiated an aura of power, ancient and unyielding.

"Astrael?" Isolde whispered, her voice trembling. "We're in Astrael?"

The wolf nodded. "Yes, you have crossed into the Kingdom of Astrael, the land of kings and ancient magic."

Heart pounding, Isolde rose from the bed and approached the window. She gasped, the sight before her stealing her breath. Astrael was vast and breathtaking, a kingdom pulled from dreams. Towering spires of crystal glimmered in the soft morning light, floating islands adorned with cascading waterfalls drifted lazily through the air, and the ground below sparkled with veins of glowing energy, weaving through lush forests and golden fields.

"This... This is Astrael," she murmured, her voice filled with awe.

Behind her, Lorenzo stirred. He groaned softly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. When his gaze fell on the wolf, he froze, his eyes widening in panic.

"What the—?!" he exclaimed, scrambling back against the headboard. "Why is there a wolf in here? Where are we?"

Isolde turned to him, her expression calm but urgent. "Lorenzo... we're in Astrael. The kingdom of magic and destiny. This is where you belong."

"Belong?" he repeated, his voice rising with disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

The wolf took a step forward, its gaze fixed on Lorenzo. "You have returned to the land of your birth, Lorenzo. The Call of Astrael has been sounded. The kingdom has awaited your return for many years."

Lorenzo stared at the wolf, his confusion deepening. "What do you mean? Awaited me? I don't understand!"

The melodic sound that had awakened them grew louder, filling the air with its haunting beauty. It resonated through the room, stirring something deep within them.

"What is that sound?" Lorenzo asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"The Call of Astrael," the wolf replied. "An ancient signal that announces to the kingdom that its lost king has returned. It is time to welcome the king."

Lorenzo's heart raced. "King? What king? I'm not a king!"

Isolde's gaze shifted to a tapestry hanging on the wall. It depicted a regal couple—the king and queen of Astrael—standing on a grand balcony. In their arms, they held a baby with strikingly familiar eyes: one crimson, the other blue.

Her breath hitched. "Lorenzo," she said, pointing at the tapestry. "That child... it's you."

Lorenzo turned to the tapestry, his expression frozen. His knees weakened as he stepped closer, his voice trembling. "No," he whispered. "That can't be right."

The wolf's gaze softened, but its tone remained resolute. "It is true. You are the son of King Keldar and Queen Ameloria. To unlock the ancient power bound to your soul, you were sent to the mortal realm, where the veil of simplicity would shield you as your strength quietly awakened. Now, the magic of Astrael has stirred, and the kingdom calls for its lost king to rise and claim his destiny."

Lorenzo stumbled back, his mind spinning. "This can't be happening," he muttered.

Lorenzo turned to Isolde, his expression pleading, his voice cracking. "I'm not a king. I don't know anything about this place."

Isolde stepped closer, her hand gently resting on his arm. Her eyes, filled with understanding and reassurance, met his. "You're not alone, Lorenzo. We'll face this together. Whatever this means, we'll figure it out."

The wolf stepped forward, its eyes glowing brighter. "I am Ravonoir, your companion on this journey, Lorenzo," the wolf spoke, its voice steady and proud. "I will be with you as you awaken your power, and together, we will face the challenges of your kingdom and your destiny."

As the call echoed Ravanoir bowed Lorenzo, "Astrael's magic flows through your veins, Lorenzo. The kingdom thrives because of its king, and you are its rightful ruler. The Call has awakened the power within you. Will you answer?"

Lorenzo turned to the window, his gaze sweeping across the breathtaking landscape of Astrael. The Call of Astrael resonated in his chest, stirring something he couldn't yet name—a power, a destiny, a purpose.

"I..." he began, his voice faltering. He clenched his fists, grounding himself. "I don't know how to be a king. But I'll try."

The wolf nodded, its expression approving. "That is all Astrael asks of you, for now."

As the Call echoed once more, Lorenzo felt a spark of warmth deep within him—a power beginning to stir. His journey had only just begun.