As morning broke, I practically leaped out of bed. The mystery of the Void Bind and the promise of King Sigurd's story pulled at me more strongly than any hunger. I rushed through the castle halls, eager to reach the library.
"Hey, breakfast first, Ven!" my mother's voice echoed, scolding me from somewhere behind. But I barely registered it, my small legs pumping, fueled by pure anticipation.
I burst into the grand royal library, its towering shelves filled with countless scrolls and ancient tomes. My grandfather, King Harald, was already there, seated at a large, intricately carved table, a few old books laid open before him. He looked up as I entered, a warm smile spreading across his bearded face.
"Have a seat, young man," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him.
I quickly took my place, my eyes wide with eagerness. My grandfather's smile softened, and he settled back, his gaze distant, as if already traversing the centuries.
"You want to know about the Void Bind, don't you, Venator?" he began, his deep voice taking on a storytelling cadence. "And about King Sigurd. He was truly a legend, known throughout Eldorian as King Sigurd, the Void Walker. He was our first king, the son of Jogard, and the only other being in this entire land known to possess the Void Bind."
Harald paused, letting the weight of those words settle. "Sigurd was a wise and formidable king. It's said that every country, even those far beyond our borders, respected – and feared – him. There are not many records about the Void Bind, boy, because the bind itself seemed to disappear with the king himself. No one knows how, no one knows why. Sigurd just… vanished, leaving no trace."
My grandfather leaned forward, his voice growing more serious. "When Sigurd ruled, our Drakarian country flourished. But at that time, Eldorian was consumed by an endless, brutal war. The Humarein had launched a massive invasion into the Iskirian Lake of Eden. Their king, obsessed with the beauty of Iskiran women, sought to conquer them. In another part of the world, the King of the Kaynari had launched an invasion of the Aetherian lands, desiring the valuable resources that lay beneath their sacred ground, resources the Aetherian refused to yield. This war raged for a long, long time. Yet, through it all, no one ever dared to touch our Drakarian lands. They feared our immense physical abilities and our universally strong fire binds."
"But as the years of bloodshed dragged on, King Sigurd grew restless," Harald continued, his hand sweeping over the table. "He felt that the war, despite not touching Drakarian directly, brought misery to everyone. He believed it simply had to end. To him, sitting idly meant nothing if you saw a bloodbath in front of you. He simply said, 'Even though we are not in the war, there is still no peace.'"
"So, in a move that shocked all of Eldorian, King Sigurd left the City of Eldr, journeying into Human territory alone. And in a single day, his name became known to every corner of the world. The mighty human city of Dorrano, a fortress deemed impenetrable for centuries, simply… disappeared. Just like that. There was no battle, no siege, no trace left behind after he arrived. It simply ceased to exist."
My jaw must have dropped. A whole city? Gone?
"After that," my grandfather explained, his eyes glinting with the memory of the legend, "King Sigurd went to every king, without fail. No one ever knew how he managed it. Some say he simply appeared right in front of their king and queen, startling every mighty monarch and demonstrating what he could do without a word. He used that power, Venator, to force every nation – Iskiran, Kayn, Humarein, and Aetherian – to sit down and talk about peace."
"And so," Harald finished, a proud, resonant note in his voice, "the Peace Treaty of Eldr was born. Right here, in our capital. All five leaders of the great races signed it, and the war, which had ravaged Eldorian for so long, finally stopped."
I was practically vibrating with excitement and a hundred new questions. "So what happened after that?" I burst out, unable to contain myself. "Where is Sigurd now?"
My grandfather's expression became wistful, a shadow passing over his wise eyes. "Ah, Venator, that is the greatest mystery of all. The story goes that after the treaty was signed, King Sigurd felt his work was done. He had brought peace, but at what cost to himself, we can only guess. Some say he ventured into the Elven Forest, a place forbidden to us even now, seeking answers that only the ancient elves could provide. Others believe he simply drifted into the Void itself, becoming one with the power he wielded. And then there are those who maintain he still resides deep within Mt. Surt with Jogard, merely waiting for a time when his presence is truly needed again."
He shook his head slowly. "Nobody truly knows where he went. Not even his own son, who later became king – your great-great-grandfather, King Thoran Sigurdsoon – ever discovered his fate. To this day, no one knows where King Sigurd goes."
"So what is Void Bind then?" I asked, leaning forward, my heart pounding with curiosity.
My grandfather looked at me, a profound look in his eyes. He smiled, a knowing, slightly enigmatic expression. "That, my boy," he said softly, "we don't fully know either. The records are scarce, almost as if they were deliberately erased, or simply never understood. But what we do know is this: some of the oldest Drakarian lore whispers that the Void is not just another elemental bind. It is said to be the primordial bind of the Drakarian, stemming directly from Jogard himself."
His gaze sharpened, holding mine. "For Jogard, the ancient dragon, is not known only as the Fire Dragon of Mt. Surt. There are tales, rarely spoken aloud, that he is also the Void Dragon, a creature of immense, unfathomable power, capable of piercing through time and space itself."
With that last, astonishing revelation, my grandfather ended his story. My head spun with the implications. A "Void Dragon" who could pierce time and space? What did that even mean for my bind?
Lost in thought, I walked out of the library, my mind buzzing with the tale of King Sigurd and the terrifying, wondrous nature of the Void. It was then I ran into my father. My father, Reingard Thorranson, the esteemed Royal Guard Commander, was an imposing figure, standing at a towering three meters tall with a powerful, muscular build. His black, slicked-back hair and sharp, focused crimson eyes spoke of a stoic general, ever watchful and disciplined. His strong, uncurled horns stood straight and pointed, a mark of his formidable non-royal lineage. Yet, beneath that stern exterior, he was a loving husband to my mother, Edna, and a gentle father to me, occasionally breaking his serious demeanor with a rare, warm smile. I'd sometimes catch glimpses of his tender side, like in the mornings when I'd find him sharing a kiss with my mother, leaving her blushing and shy, burying her face in his chest, before she'd greet the day with an especially good mood. He grinned, scooped me up effortlessly, and set me on his broad shoulders.
"What's your bind, Pops?" I asked, looking down at his smiling face. I was still curious why he wasn't a fire bind bearer like most Drakarian.
He just chuckled. "My bind is Lightning, Ven," he said simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "I don't know why, exactly. It just is." Then, without warning, he let out a playful "Fwoosh!" and a brief spark of electricity danced across his palm, startling me just enough. In the next instant, he blurred, running so fast the castle hall seemed to stretch around us, leaving a faint crackle in the air. He laughed, a booming, joyful sound. "This is the lightning!"
After that whirlwind of revelations and excitement, the days settled into a comfortable rhythm. For the next three years, I lived a basic life in the castle, the extraordinary nature of my bind, and the future it implied, waiting dormant beneath the surface of my childhood.