Lord of the realm

Deep below the stone castle, in the dark chamber, Jaenor floated in the cold air like a god among mortals. His body glowed with a strange, red light that pulsed with each beat of his heart.

The power that now flowed through his veins was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was as if the very essence of creation itself had chosen to dwell within him.

He was no longer just a man.

He was the Origin Bearer.

The chains that had bound him in the dungeon lay shattered far below, twisted metal that could no longer hold one who had transcended mortal limits. His eyes, once the simple brown of earth, now shone like twin stars in the darkness.

When he moved his hand, the air itself seemed to bend around his fingers.

When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of mountains and the whisper of ancient winds.

"I am free," he said to the night sky, and the words rang out like a bell across the land.

His wounds were no longer visible, they were all healed by the Origin stone.

Far above him, within the thick stone walls of the castle, Earl Grimwald hurried through the narrow corridors with his heart hammering in his chest. His boots echoed against the cold floor as he made his way toward the deepest part of his ancestral home. Torches flickered along the walls, casting dancing shadows that seemed to mock his fear.

His large frame shook violently as he ran downwards; his bulbous chin quivered with each step.

But tonight, those weathered hands trembled as he clutched the heavy iron key that would unlock the chamber he had guarded for so many years.

His grandfather had told him of the Origin Stone when he was just a boy.

His father had passed down the same warning when Earl Grimwald had taken his place as lord of the castle.

Guard it well, they had said.

Keep it secret. Let no soul know of its presence, for it holds power that could destroy kingdoms and slay behemoths.

The Earl had done as his forefathers commanded.

For forty years, he had kept the secret. For forty years, he had made sure the chamber remained sealed.

But tonight, something was wrong.

The very stones of the castle seemed to hum with energy, and he could feel in his bones that the ancient seals had been broken.

-

Meanwhile, in the great hall of the castle, a gathering unlike any other was taking place.

The massive room, with its high vaulted ceiling and great stone pillars, had seen many meetings over the centuries.

Kings had feasted here. Many race leaders joined hands.

But it had never hosted a meeting quite like this one.

Around them gathered the other witches of their coven.

The infamous Redmoon Coven.

Some were old women with faces lined by years of Origin and wisdom. Others were young, their eyes bright with the hunger to learn the Origin arts. All of them wore the simple scarlet robes that marked them as followers of the old ways.

But they were not alone in the hall.

In the center of the great room stood Cornelia, the castle's most honored guest.

She was a woman of perhaps forty years, with a presence that would make anyone alert.

Cornelia had been staying at the castle for several days now, but her true purpose remained a mystery to most, save for the witches.

As the witches approached her, Cornelia felt a strange unease wash over her. The earlier tremble and the mysterious energy brimming around the castle.

The very air in the hall seemed thick with Origin energy, and from somewhere deep within the castle, she could feel a pulse of energy so strong it made her teeth ache.

"Something is happening," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What happened with that boy?"

Before anyone could respond, the great doors of the hall burst open with a crash that echoed through the room like thunder. Every head turned to see who had arrived with such drama.

The Siren Queen entered like a storm given human form.

She was tall and elegant, with skin as pale as moonlight and hair that flowed around her like liquid silver. Her dress seemed to be made of water itself, shifting and changing with each step she took.

When she spoke, her voice carried the sound of waves crashing against distant shores.

But it was her eyes that truly marked her as something more than human. They were the deep green-blue of the ocean depths, and they seemed to hold all the secrets that had ever been whispered to the sea.

She came as soon as she felt the tremors all over the city. It didn't last long but it reached deep waters too.

The Siren Queen's gaze swept across the assembled witches before settling on one figure in particular.

Cornelia.

"Do you know what your people had done?" Her gaze was sharp, and her tone suggested that something dire had happened.

Then the next second, a few more figures entered the hall; Delia was the first one to enter, her red hair catching the light of the flames. She was young for a witch, barely past her thirtieth year, but her power was already well known among her sisters. Beside her stood Ember, whose name fit her well. Her hair was the color of autumn leaves, and when she was angry, sparks would literally fly from her fingertips.

Both of them had troubled expressions as they made their way to meet Cornelia.

Right behind them, Odessa had entered the hall.

Siren Queen Saphyra looked at the new woman and studied her for a minute.

Odessa's face was fuming; she was angry. She followed the two women to the hall, looking for Jaenor. He was in this castle, deeper parts. She could tell but didn't know where exactly.

Cornelia looked at Odessa, her eyes narrowed as she watched her with curiosity.

"You," she said at last, pointing one graceful finger at her, who stood slightly apart from the others. "You are the one they call the Ashen, are you not?"