The Oath of Astrael

The chamber was thick with silence, the weight of revelation pressing down on them all. The garments offered by the mysterious woman shimmered in the morning light, their magic pulsing faintly, whispering of destinies yet to unfold.

Lorenzo reached out, running his fingers over the fabric of his tunic. The silver threads danced beneath his touch, shifting like liquid moonlight. It was as if the garment knew him, recognized him. A strange sense of belonging stirred in his chest, foreign yet undeniable.

Isolde, standing beside him, hesitated before lifting the gown into her arms. It was lighter than it appeared, the fabric slipping between her fingers like woven stardust. Her violet eyes flickered to Lorenzo, searching for some kind of reassurance. But how could he reassure her, when he himself was drowning in uncertainty?

The ancient woman watched them both with an expression unreadable.

"These are no ordinary garments," she said, her voice like wind chimes in the distance. "They are imbued with the essence of Astrael itself, woven from the very magic that binds our world. They will shield you, guide you, and in your darkest moments, remind you of who you are."

Lorenzo swallowed, his throat tight. Who he was. A prince cast into exile. A child of prophecy. A man who had spent his life alone, never knowing that his blood carried the weight of a kingdom.

The Queen's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Lorenzo." She stepped toward him, her hazel eyes gleaming with both sorrow and hope. "I know this is much to bear. But you are not alone. You never have been. We were forced to make an impossible choice, but our love for you never wavered. You are our son, and Astrael's future rests in your hands."

His hands curled into fists at his sides. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to forgive them. But the years of loneliness, the silent nights spent wondering why he had been cast aside, would not simply vanish with words.

"You say that as if I have a choice," Lorenzo muttered, his voice laced with restrained bitterness. "But this prophecy… this destiny… has already decided everything for me, hasn't it?"

King Keldar stepped forward, his broad shoulders rigid with unspoken emotions.

"Prophecies are not chains, Lorenzo," he said, his deep voice carrying the weight of experience. "They are paths. You can choose to walk it, or turn away. But Astrael's fate is tied to yours, whether you accept it or not."

Lorenzo held his father's gaze, searching for something—anger, desperation, regret. What he found was steadiness. A strength that was neither forceful nor demanding, but unwavering in its resolve.

A sigh escaped his lips. He turned to Isolde, who had been silent throughout the exchange.

"And you?" he asked. "Do you believe in all of this? That you're my… mate? That you hold the key to my power?"

Isolde's silver-violet eyes met his, unflinching.

"I don't know," she admitted, her voice steady. "But I do know that we are bound by something neither of us fully understands. I have felt it since the moment we met." She placed a delicate hand over her heart. "And I trust that whatever brought us here… has a purpose."

A strange warmth spread through Lorenzo's chest at her words. She was right. Even now, standing beside her, he could feel it—an invisible thread, pulling him toward her, binding them in ways neither could explain.

The ancient woman stepped forward again, her glowing eyes sweeping over them both.

"The bond between you is sacred," she said. "To awaken the full power of Astrael, you must forge it in truth. The Oath of Astrael must be taken."

Lorenzo frowned. "The Oath?"

Queen Ameloria nodded, clasping her hands together.

"The Oath is an ancient rite," she explained. "It will solidify your connection, ensuring that your powers awaken in full when the time comes."

Lorenzo exchanged a wary glance with Isolde. "And if we refuse?"

King Keldar's expression darkened. "Then Astrael will remain vulnerable. And those who seek its downfall will not hesitate to strike."

A shiver passed through the room, as if the very walls knew the truth of his words.

Lorenzo exhaled sharply. His life had been irrevocably changed the moment he stepped foot into Astrael's palace. There was no turning back now.

"Fine," he said. "We take the Oath."

The Queen's relief was palpable. The ancient woman gave a knowing nod.

"Then follow me," she said. "The ceremony must take place in the Heart of Astrael."

---

The Heart of Astrael was unlike anything Lorenzo had ever seen.

The chamber lay beneath the palace, hidden behind layers of enchanted stone. At its center stood an altar carved from celestial crystal, its surface reflecting the light of the massive gemstone embedded in the ceiling. The Heartstone pulsed with an ethereal glow, sending ripples of magic through the air.

Ancient symbols were etched into the walls, their golden light flickering like embers in the darkness. The air was thick with power, humming with something both sacred and eternal.

Lorenzo and Isolde stepped before the altar, their reflections shifting in the crystal's surface.

The ancient woman raised her hands. "Kneel."

They obeyed.

She began to chant, her voice weaving through the chamber like an incantation from another realm. The runes on the walls flared, their light dancing in rhythmic patterns.

"By the will of Astrael, by the blood of kings and the bond of fate, let this Oath be forged."

A golden thread of light appeared, stretching between Lorenzo and Isolde, intertwining around them like vines of fire and stardust.

"Speak your vow," the woman instructed.

Lorenzo swallowed hard. He glanced at Isolde. She was watching him, waiting.

He took a deep breath. "I vow… to stand beside you. To protect you. To share my strength with you, no matter the cost."

Isolde's lips parted, her voice a whisper of moonlight. "And I vow… to be your anchor. To guide you when darkness falls. To fight with you, not against you."

The golden light surged, wrapping around their hands, their hearts, their souls.

The chamber trembled.

The Heartstone blazed.

And then—Lorenzo felt it.

A rush of power surged through him, unlike anything he had ever known. His right eye burned, a sudden brilliance overtaking it. His hands shook as he clenched his fists, feeling the magic awaken in his blood, roaring like an untamed storm.

Isolde gasped, her body glowing with the same ethereal light.

Their bond had been sealed.

The Oath of Astrael had been made.

The chamber fell into silence.

And in the distance, beyond the palace walls, a shadow stirred. Watching. Waiting.

The prophecy had begun.