Blanc_Dragon

In the year 2025, a curious linguist named Liam Routh discovers an ancient, untitled book hidden deep within the archives of a massive private library. Bound in leather and sealed with a forgotten symbol—a sun pierced by three arrows—the book claims to hold the true story of Kael of No-Name, a boy erased from his powerful family line over four thousand years ago.

As Liam begins to read, the air shifts. The ink glows. And suddenly, he’s not just reading the story—he’s living it.

Transported to a time of ruthless warlords, forgotten gods, and wild desert lands, Liam follows the audacious journey of Kael: a castaway prince turned rebel dreamer who escapes his tyrannical bloodline to forge a kingdom of laughter, love, and freedom in a land untouched by empire.

With a band of misfits by his side—including a drunk who thinks he’s royalty, a seductive thief, and a spear-wielding queen—Kael dares to challenge fate, conquer chaos, and rewrite history.

But kingdoms built on ideals are often the first to be tested by war.

Kingdom Of The Forgotten Sun

The light in the chamber dimmed, save for a narrow beam that fell upon a frame covered in silk. Slowly, the Voice Beneath the Water reached out and pulled the cloth away, revealing a painting unlike any Liam or Rajan had ever seen.

A man seated upon a throne of blackstone, wrapped in robes of twilight and flame. His hair was long, falling in obsidian waves past his shoulders, while his eyes—one golden, one deep amethyst—pierced through the very soul.

But not as they'd imagined him. Not a warrior, not a ruler of blood and fire. Here, he looked... burdened. Almost divine.

The frame surrounding the portrait was a masterpiece of contradiction—ornate gold twisting like vines through burnished purple steel. At the top was engraved a single phrase:

"The King Who Waits in Silence."

"What is this?" Liam asked, almost whispering.

"A record," the Voice said, eyes glinting behind her mask. "A memory made not with paint, but with time and prophecy."

She stepped forward, voice soft yet firm:

"Look closely. The lines under his eyes. The scar that arcs across his throat but never heals. The way he holds his left hand—never fully closed. This is the Kael who knew what would come. Who bore a crown with no joy, only necessity."

Rajan frowned. "Why is he looking at us?"

"He always was," she said. "Even before you were born."

The portrait shimmered faintly. For a second, the expression on Kael's face seemed to change—his lips parting as if to speak, his gaze narrowing.

"Yes," Rajan said. "And I hate it."

The Voice bowed her head. "This image marks the first time Kael accepted what he was becoming. The protector. The destroyer. The... exile."

A faint hum began to rise from the walls, and for a split moment, it sounded like Kael's voice:

"If I must burn to keep the world alight, then so be it."

The lights died again. The painting faded into darkness. The chamber swallowed its breath.

"Remember this image," the Voice whispered. "For soon, you will see him not in oil and frame—but in flesh and flame."

Chapter Thirty-Three – The Portrait of the Forgotten Flame (2025)