It was a day like any other in the towering, ancient castle where Alistor, Micreal, Zerriss, and their loyal comrades resided.The sun hung lazily in the crimson-tinted sky, casting long, regal shadows across the stone corridors and ivy-draped battlements. The scent of old parchment, burning candles, and polished steel lingered in the air — a place both commanding and serene.
Inside the grand throne room, Zerriss stood at attention, a thick scroll in his hands, reading aloud in a crisp, dutiful voice.
"Sir, we have a scheduled meeting with the West Kingdom's council this afternoon. I suggest we make preparations and depart soon," Zerriss announced, glancing up from his checklist.
Seated atop an ornate obsidian throne, Alistor stretched lazily. His black blazer clung to him like a shadow itself, the silver pin of his station gleaming against the fabric."I see," Alistor said, his voice smooth and steady. With a swift motion, he rose to his feet, his black gloves brushing against the sides of the throne. He extended his arm toward the grand doorway. "Then let's not waste time. We move immediately."
Micreal, ever the cautious butler, shifted nervously at Alistor's side."Sir... are we certain this will go well?" he asked, his yellow eyes filled with concern.
Alistor turned to him with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips — that familiar glint of mischief flashing across his black eyes."What are you talking about? It went perfectly last time, didn't it?" he teased.
Micreal frowned, clearly unconvinced."Y-Yeah... sure, sir..." he mumbled, adjusting his immaculate white gloves.
"I shall ready the carriage, sir?" Zerriss asked, bowing slightly, the hilt of his sword clinking against his armor.
"Yes, please," Alistor answered with a nod, already stepping down the polished marble steps toward the entrance.
Zerriss quickly exited, the heavy wooden doors groaning open as he went to prepare the transport.Yet, before he could even reach the stables, something unnatural stirred in the air — a deep, vibrating hum that prickled the hairs on the back of the neck.
A sudden, blinding beam of light pierced through the ceiling of the throne room, enveloping Alistor and Micreal in its radiant glow. The ground seemed to vanish beneath their feet as they were lifted upward — trapped, helpless — and then pulled into the unknown.
"The carriage is... ready...?" Zerriss called from the courtyard, stopping dead in his tracks as he looked around. His eyes widened in horror. "Sir? Sir?! Where did you go?!"
Only silence answered him, broken by the distant cawing of crows from the castle walls.
Moments later, adrift within the mysterious beam...
"GAHHH!! Where are we?! Why are we spinning?!" Alistor shouted, flailing helplessly as the world blurred around them in dizzying spirals of color and light.
"I don't know, sir!!" Micreal wailed, his usually composed voice cracking in panic.
They twisted and tumbled through the void, shouting over the roaring winds that seemed to tear at their very souls.The spinning intensified — faster, faster — until, without warning, they were flung out of the light like rag dolls.
They crashed unceremoniously onto a wide, sunlit field, the soft grass cushioning their fall but not sparing them from the ache of the impact.A lonely dirt road stretched out behind them, leading toward an unseen destination.
"Ouch... that hurt..." Micreal groaned, rubbing the back of his head as he staggered to his feet. His once-pristine butler's uniform was now stained with dust and blades of grass.
"Where... are we?" he asked, looking around in bewilderment.
Alistor slowly rose, brushing the dirt off his black blazer. His sharp eyes scanned the endless, unfamiliar horizon."I don't know..." he murmured, the wind tugging lightly at his hair and cloak.
The air smelled different here — fresher, wilder — carrying the distant scent of woodsmoke and something ancient, hidden just beyond sight.
Whatever realm they had entered, it was nothing like their own.
And their journey... had only just begun.
[Prologue End]