After running for what felt like hours, the chaotic roar of the battle behind me finally faded into a dull, haunting echo. The cries of my family, the clashing of steel, and the crackle of flames had all vanished, leaving only the harsh, ragged sound of my own breathing. My legs burned, my lungs screamed, and my heart pounded as if it were trying to escape my chest. Finally, I reached a small clearing and collapsed onto the damp, leaf-strewn ground.
Panting, I lowered Alex from my back. His tiny body was limp, completely spent. He had passed out somewhere along the way, oblivious to the destruction surrounding us, a fragile fragment of the life I was desperately trying to protect. I studied his peaceful, pale face for a moment, then let my gaze wander to the cottage that stood before us.
It was remote, modest, and unremarkable in any normal circumstance—but now, it was the only sanctuary I had left. My father had purchased this place years ago as a private escape from the suffocating weight of our royal lives, a hidden retreat for the family to breathe away from the politics, ceremonies, and endless scrutiny of the Vardar Empire. And now, it served as a grim monument to the tragedy that had destroyed everything I loved.
I am Alaric Vardar, first son of Vernon Vardar, the crown prince of the Vardar Empire. Our family has ruled the empire for fifty thousand years, through fifty generations of emperors. My grandfather, Hardy Vardar, the fifty-first emperor, was a man of extremes: terrifying to his enemies, beloved to his friends, a ruler whose word could sway armies and empires alike. He had four wives, six concubines, ten sons, and thirty-five daughters. His legacy was vast, sprawling, and unyielding.
My father, the crown prince, was his first and most gifted son. Randy Vardar, my third uncle, was equally capable but far more cunning. Both had long been rivals for the throne. And now, with my grandfather on his deathbed at the remarkable age of thirteen hundred, the stakes were higher than ever. Randy had already begun scheming, setting traps and sowing discord to claim the empire for himself.
Long ago, my grandfather had found a treasure during his youth—a prize shrouded in secrecy, rumored to hold the power to determine the next emperor. Before dying, he confided in my father and uncle the treasure's location. Whoever found it would inherit the empire. My father, brilliant and methodical, embarked on the quest and returned with the prize… or rather, a map leading to it. Randy, ever watchful and sly, discovered that my father held the map, and perhaps that is why he acted so quickly, orchestrating the massacre that claimed nearly our entire family.
I knelt beside Alex, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. The boy stirred slightly, his tiny lips trembling in a half-formed whimper, but he remained asleep. My mind raced, reliving the horrors of that night: the betrayal of men my father called brothers, the flames consuming our ancestral home, the screams of my family cut short by swords and arrows. I had seen faces I trusted twisted into masks of cruelty, watched those who were once my allies strike without hesitation.
I swallowed hard, forcing my emotions down. Anger, grief, despair—they threatened to consume me, but I could not afford weakness. Not here, not now. Not with Alex depending on me. I had to survive. I had to endure. I had to plan. And above all, I had to remember. Every act of betrayal, every drop of blood spilled, every scream in that burning night would be etched into my memory forever.
My father had known this could happen. He had prepared, quietly, diligently, ensuring that I and Alex had a chance to escape. But no preparation could have predicted the speed and savagery of Randy's assault. One moment, we were a family; the next, everything was gone.
I clenched my fists, the map my father had left me burning in my mind like a beacon. It was the key, the only connection left to my father, to the throne, and to the empire that had been stolen from us. I would carry it, protect it, and I would see that my family's blood was not shed in vain.
The cottage, silent and unassuming, offered a fragile sense of safety. Outside, the forest stretched in all directions, dense and shadowed, a barrier against the chaos that pursued us. I let out a slow breath, though my chest still heaved from exhaustion, and I lowered myself against the door. For the first time since the attack, I allowed myself a brief, fleeting moment of stillness.
Tomorrow, I would have to move, to plan, to survive and understand the full scope of what had happened. But tonight… tonight, I simply watched Alex sleep, and I made a vow in the quiet darkness: I would avenge my family. I would reclaim what had been stolen. And I would make Randy and all those who betrayed us pay, no matter how long it took.
The firelight from the distant ruins of our home flickered faintly through the trees, casting shadows that danced across the walls of the cottage. I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of the Vardar legacy press upon me, and swore silently that the name of my family would not end here, in the ashes of betrayal.