Return of the lost heir

The first rays of dawn crept over the Astrael palace, painting the towering spires in hues of gold and amber. The palace, nestled amidst the cascading waterfalls of the celestial cliffs, gleamed like a beacon, its runes glowing faintly as if waking from a deep slumber. Birds with shimmering, feathered wings soared through the sky, their melodic cries blending with the gentle rustling of enchanted leaves in the royal gardens below.

Queen Ameloria stood on the balcony of her chambers, the soft morning breeze playing with her flowing silver gown. Her hazel eyes, flecked with gold, scanned the horizon, though her thoughts were far away. The dawn felt heavier today, the air thick with the lingering echoes of the Astrael chime that had rung out the night before.

"It's been so many years," she murmured, her voice laced with equal parts hope and fear.

Behind her, King Keldar entered the chamber, his tall frame casting a shadow over the marble floor. His ocean-blue eyes, as calm and stormy as the sea, lingered on the Queen.

"Our son has returned," she said, turning to face him.

Keldar nodded, his expression grave. "The prophecy has begun to unfold. But…is he ready? Does he even know who he truly is?"

The Queen lowered her gaze, her fingers clutching the edge of the balcony railing. "We had no choice, Keldar. Sending him away was the only way to protect him. But now…" Her voice faltered as her thoughts turned to the boy they had sent away all those years ago—a boy who had grown into a man, far from their reach.

"We must face him," Keldar said firmly, though his heart was heavy. "He deserves answers, even if they shatter his trust in us."

The Queen nodded reluctantly, and together they left the chamber, their steps echoing through the grand hallways. As they walked, the palace seemed to awaken around them. The magical sconces lining the walls flickered to life, their light pulsing like a heartbeat. The stained-glass windows, depicting ancient battles and the rise of Astrael, caught the sunlight, casting kaleidoscopic patterns across the floors.

Finally, they arrived at Lorenzo's chambers. The heavy oak doors, carved with runic symbols, seemed almost alive, humming faintly as the King and Queen approached. Inside, Lorenzo sat by the window, bathed in the soft morning light. His companion, the ever-watchful wolf Ravanoir, lay by his side, his crimson red eyes glinting.

Across from him, Isolde sat gracefully, her ethereal white hair cascading down her back, catching the light like strands of moonlight. Her silver-violet eyes held a quiet intensity as she spoke to Lorenzo, their conversation light but meaningful.

The doors creaked open, and all three turned their heads. Ravanoir rose immediately, bowing his head in respect as the King and Queen entered the room.

"Lorenzo," the Queen breathed, her voice trembling with emotion as she stepped forward. Her heart ached at the sight of him—so much like his father, yet with a quiet strength all his own.

Lorenzo rose slowly, his piercing eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Look at you," the Queen said, her voice breaking. "So grown, so strong…my son." She moved closer and wrapped her arms around him.

Lorenzo stood still, his body stiff with shock. After a moment, he gently pulled away, his expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

"You're my parents?" he asked, his voice edged with pain.

The King and Queen exchanged a glance, their silence answering his question.

"Then why didn't you come for me?" Lorenzo demanded, his voice rising with each word. "Why did you send me away? Why did you let me live all these years alone?"

His questions hung in the air like a storm cloud, each one striking their hearts with the force of a lightning bolt.

"We sent you away with heavy hearts," the King began, his voice steady but tinged with sorrow. "But we had no choice. You were born under the mark of Astrael, destined for greatness, but also great peril. Your right eye…its fading color was a sign that your powers were dormant, waiting for the one who would awaken them."

The Queen stepped forward, her eyes glistening with tears. "We discovered that your powers would only manifest when you found your mate. Until then, the palace was not safe for you. Enemies of Astrael would have sought to destroy you before you could fulfill the prophecy."

"You…sent me away for a prophecy?" Lorenzo's voice cracked, anger and heartbreak warring within him.

"It was the only way to protect you," the Queen said, her voice breaking. "We thought it was the best for you, but it doesn't make it right. We never stopped longing for the day you would return."

Lorenzo looked away, his jaw clenched as he struggled to process their words.

The Queen turned to Isolde, who had been watching the exchange in silence, her ethereal presence almost otherworldly.

"And you," the Queen said, her voice softening. "You are the key to awakening his power. You are the reason he is here with us now. Thank you for saving him."

Isolde blinked, startled. "Me? I don't understand."

The Queen reached for her hands, holding them tightly. "You are his mate, Isolde. The one destined to complete him, to unlock the power that will restore our kingdom. Without you, Lorenzo's powers would remain dormant, and Astrael's prophecy would fall to ruin."

Isolde turned to Lorenzo, her silver-violet eyes wide with shock. Lorenzo met her gaze, his mind racing.

"Mate?" he thought, his heart pounding. "Isolde…my mate?"

Before either could speak, Ravanoir suddenly growled, his crimson red eyes glowing as a low rumble filled the room.

"The Astrael kingdom stirs," he announced, his voice deep and resonant, as if spoken by the land itself. "The time of awakening is upon us. The journey begins now."

The King nodded solemnly, his expression resolute. "We have little time to prepare. Lorenzo, Isolde, your path will not be easy, but you must face it together."

At that moment, the doors opened again, and an ancient figure entered—a woman dressed in flowing robes that shimmered like water under sunlight. Her presence seemed to bend the air around her, and her eyes glowed faintly with an otherworldly light.

She carried two garments, their designs intricate and ethereal. Lorenzo's was a deep blue tunic, embroidered with silver threads that formed swirling patterns, as if alive. Isolde's gown seemed woven from starlight itself, its shimmering fabric catching every glimmer of light in the room.

"These are for you," the woman said, her voice echoing like a distant song. "They will protect you on your journey and mark you as heirs of Astrael's legacy."

Lorenzo and Isolde exchanged a glance, the weight of their destiny settling heavily on their shoulders. Together, they stepped forward, ready to embrace the unknown.

The first step of their journey had begun.