Fortune_Patrick

In the war-torn kingdom of Velmora, a prophecy foretells that only one warrior can wield the legendary blade Solmara and end the centuries-old war. That warrior is Kael Dain, a battle-hardened outcast raised among mercenaries, unaware of his true lineage.

But the prophecy comes with a cruel twist—Kael must forsake love, for the one he gives his heart to will bring the kingdom to ruin.

Then he meets Seraphine, a mysterious healer with eyes like molten gold and a past shrouded in secrets. Drawn to her in ways he cannot explain, Kael discovers too late that Seraphine is tied to the prophecy—her blood unlocks Solmara’s true power, and if she dies, the blade awakens.

As dark forces rise and betrayal lurks in every shadow, King Varos, a ruthless ruler obsessed with fulfilling the prophecy for his own gain, seeks to capture Seraphine and bend fate to his will.

Now, Kael faces an impossible choice: sacrifice the woman he loves to fulfill his destiny and save the kingdom, or defy fate and risk plunging the world into eternal war.

the fatebound blade

The royal banners snapped in the wind as King Varos's procession thundered onto the battlefield. Rows of mounted knights, clad in blackened steel, moved with disciplined precision, their warhorses trampling over the corpses of the fallen. At the head of the column, beneath a crimson-plumed helm, rode Commander Aldric, the king's most trusted general.

Kael wiped his sword clean, watching in silence as the royal guard approached. He had fought for Varos's coin, but he had never fought for Varos himself. That distinction mattered.

Aldric dismounted with practiced ease, his piercing gaze sweeping across the carnage before settling on Kael. "The king requests your presence."

Kael tensed. He had expected this. Victories made men useful. And useful men were summoned.

Without a word, he followed Aldric toward the king's pavilion, a massive black tent erected atop a nearby ridge. The entrance was flanked by two cloaked figures, their faces hidden by deep hoods. Something about them made Kael's skin crawl, but he kept his expression neutral.

Inside, King Varos stood before an opulent table, poring over battle maps. His golden armor gleamed in the torchlight, a stark contrast to his cold, calculating gaze.

"Kael Dain," the king said, not looking up. "You have done well today."

Kael inclined his head. "I fight where I am paid, Your Majesty."

Varos smirked. "And yet, I suspect you seek more than coin." He gestured toward a chair. "Sit."

The king's smirk deepened, but he did not press. Instead, he turned to the cloaked figures. "The seer will speak."

One of the figures stepped forward, lowering their hood. An elderly woman with clouded eyes and silver-threaded hair.

Kael stiffened. He did not trust magic, and he trusted seers even less.

"Warrior of the blade," the woman rasped. "Your fate is written."

Kael folded his arms. "Is that so?"

The seer ignored his skepticism. "The blade of prophecy stirs. Solmara awakens—but it will demand sacrifice."

The woman's sightless gaze bore into his soul. "You will wield the sword that ends this war. But if you love, you will bring ruin."

Kael let out a slow breath, forcing his pulse to steady. He did not believe in fate. He did not believe in destiny. But the words still pressed against his ribs like iron.

Varos studied him with sharp amusement. "A heavy burden, wouldn't you agree?"

Kael's jaw tightened. "I don't believe in prophecies."

The seer smiled, eerie and knowing. "Then you will make a dangerous enemy of fate."

Varos waved a hand. "Enough. The battlefield is not the place for omens and riddles." He turned back to Kael, his expression shifting. "Solmara is real. And I intend to claim it. You will lead the expedition to retrieve it."

Kael exhaled slowly. He could refuse. Walk away from all of this.

But something inside him—something buried deep, something restless—urged him forward.

And the seer whispered, "She will find you first."

chapter 2: A seer’s warning