Page 1 of Lost Heir
PROLOGUE
RONAN
The first time I saw Eldwain, I thought I’d stumbled into a dream; one of those vivid dreams where every color was brighter, and every scent was sweeter. I was only ten, a boy from the Crimson Clan of the Grasslands, where the earth was our bed and the sky our roof, where the wind told our stories and the earth cradled our sleep. But here... here was a fantasy turned vivid reality, a land where magic didn't just linger, it thrived. I had never seen anything like Eldwain, a land whispered about in our clan as the place where the half-fae, half-humans lived, descendants of the legendary fae of Ellyndor.
My father, the clan chief, led our procession with a steady grace, but I couldn't help but gape at the spectacle around us. We were on horseback, every single one of us, from my father, to me, to the warriors who accompanied us for protection.
Eldwain was beautiful, but it wasn't just the land that enchanted; it was its people as well. Their hair was silver, and they moved with an effortless grace as we entered town, their light eyes sparkling in bright shades compared to ourcrimson eyes. Their laughter wove through the air, a melody that promised stories of endless wonder. In them, I saw the marriage of fae and human, a beauty too profound to fully grasp.
As we approached the heart of Eldwain, the palace emerged like a vision from the mist, a masterpiece sculpted by both nature and an artisan's skilled hand. It was not a structure of stone and mortar, but a living testament to the harmony that existed between the fae and human realms. The palace walls, if they could be called walls, were woven from living trees. Their trunks twisted and merged to form elaborate patterns, branches arching overhead to create a canopy that shimmered with a mosaic of leaves, filtering sunlight into dappled hues of emerald and gold.
The entrance was flanked by two massive sculptures, not carved but grown from the earth itself, shaped over centuries into guardians that seemed to watch over the palace with serene vigilance. Their features were both fierce and beautiful, embodying the strength and grace of the creatures of Eldwain.
“Name?” one of the guards called out to us as we were stopped at the entrance.
“Chief Aryan of the Crimson Clan of the Grasslands,” my father’s voice boomed from within the procession. His presence dominated amongst the group of fierce warriors. His long, dark hair fell below his hips with loose braids woven throughout his hair. He possessed crimson eyes darker than any other I’d seen, and his skin was covered in cerise markings that told stories of the clan and of victorious battles. My father was a sight to behold as he sat tall atop his black stallion.
The Eldwain guard nodded respectfully and motioned for the other guards to allow our company to enter. “Welcome, Chief Aryan. Please leave your horses here. Only you and your immediate family members are to enter. Please leave all weapons behind.”
My father turned his attention to me and nodded, telling me to follow him. I slid off my horse and handed the reins to young Silas, who rode beside me.
“Good luck,” he whispered as I passed, following my father into the Eldwain palace.
Stepping inside, the boundary between the outdoors and indoors blurred. A stream, clear as crystal, wound its way through the palace floor, its gentle babble resonating against the walls, mingling with the soft glow of bioluminescent moss that clung to the interior. The ceilings soared high above, supported by pillars that resembled the trunks of giant trees, their branches intertwining to form natural archways.
The heart of the palace was the Great Hall, a vast space that seemed to hold the essence of Eldwain within its bounds. The floor was a tapestry of living grass, soft underfoot and scattered with flowers that opened to the gentlest touch. The room was lit not by torches, but by clusters of glowing orbs that floated lazily in the air, casting a soft, ethereal light that made shadows dance.
At the center of the Great Hall, a throne of intertwined branches sat upon a dais of smooth stone, cushioned with moss and blooms. It was not a seat of intimidation, but one of unity, embodying the bond between the land and its rulers.
Above, the ceiling was a living canvas, where the branches of the trees that formed the palace met and mingled, creating a natural dome. Here and there, gaps in the foliage allowed shafts of sunlight to pierce through,creating beams of light that spotlighted the hall in a celestial display.
The Eldwain King's marriage celebration unveiled wonders I hadn't dared to imagine. Lights danced without flame, music rose from the very ground, and the feast... it sparkled as if the dishes themselves were alive with enchantment. Performers summoned illusions that spun tales of love and valor, weaving the essence of Eldwain into every gesture.
As we stepped into the vast expanse of the Great Hall, my father, Aryan, halted and laid a weighty, reassuring hand upon my shoulder. With a solemn yet encouraging glance, he spoke. “I must pay my respects to the king. Seek out the princes and princesses, Ronan. It's time you began forging alliances.”
Nodding, I dipped in a bow, my eyes trailing after him as he strode purposefully towards the throne, where the king and his new wife presided over the festivities.
Alone now, I surveyed the hall, its splendor dwarfing my presence. Not a single peer in sight, just a sea of strangers whose glances cut sharper than blades. Their eyes, filled with disdain, brushed over me, an unspoken reminder of the divide between us. Though we shared borders with Eldwain, my people seldom ventured beyond the Grasslands. To these courtly folk, we were mere tales of savagery, our ways as foreign as our lands.
Eager for escape, I found solace in the palace gardens. Slipping through an archway, the cool embrace of the open air greeted me, and there, amidst the lush whispers of nature, I discovered a gathering of children. Their laughter, a melody foreign to my ears, sparked a flutter of excitement beneath my ribs, tinged with the anxiety of the unknown.
They were like creatures from a different realm, adornedin silks that captured the essence of the sky at dawn, so at odds with my attire. My battle leathers, worn with pride back home, suddenly felt coarse, a stark reminder of the worlds that lay between us. A glance down at my garb, then back to their finery, and a wave of self-consciousness washed over me.
Gathering every shred of bravery I possessed, I advanced towards them, my gaze drawn to a girl whose dark tresses flowed like the night sky. Her eyes, a startling blue, outshone the very heavens, and her smile, radiant and warm, beckoned me closer without a word. It was as if the sun had chosen to shine through her, dispelling shadows of doubt and kindling a smile on my lips to mirror hers.
Venturing into their circle, my heart hammered against my chest, a mix of hope and apprehension swirling within me. “Hello,” I attempted, my voice stronger than I felt, accompanied by a tentative wave. “I'm Ronan from the Crimson Clan.”
A boy, his hair the color of moonlight but without the pointed ears that marked the fae, telling me he was from Eldwain, turned sharply towards me. His eyes narrowed and a sneer curled his lips. “We don’t associate with barbarians,” he declared dismissively, turning his back to signal the end of the interaction.
The others, a blend of night and silver-haired youths, mirrored his move, drifting away with a wave of cold shoulders and whispered judgments.
All of them left except for one.
The young girl who had captured my attention stood before me, her bright smile almost blinding as she waved at me. “Hello, Ronan! Ignore Caelan,” she added with an eye roll. “My name is Lyanna,” she said as she extended a hand to me.
Hesitation gripped me for a heartbeat before our hands met, and a jolt like the first breath of a storm raced up my arm. “I’m Ronan.” I stumbled over my words, caught in the net of her vibrant presence.
She laughed, a sound as clear and melodious as a crystalline brook in spring. “You said that already,” she teased, her fingers gently releasing mine only to venture closer, curiosity lighting her features. She reached out, her fingers grazing the ends of my hair that fell in waves to the middle of my back. “Wow, you have such pretty hair. And your eyes…”
