The summons came at dawn.
Kael was still awake when the knock sounded at his door. He had not slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw smoke rising from the village and children staring through iron bars.
A guard bowed stiffly. "Prince Kael. The king commands your presence."
Not asks. Commands.
The great hall of Aethros was already filled when Kael arrived.
Seventeen figures stood beneath the towering banners some talking quietly, others standing alone, arms crossed, eyes sharp. They were all sons of the same man. They did not look like brothers.
Some were tall and broad, their armor marked by past campaigns. Others wore calm expressions that hid dangerous thoughts. A few smiled too easily.
Kael took his place among them.
At the far end of the hall, King Varyon sat upon the throne of black stone. He did not rise. He did not greet them. His gaze moved across his sons the way a man inspects weapons laid out for war.
"My sons," the king said at last. His voice filled the hall without effort. "You have been raised for one purpose."
Silence followed.
"To expand Aethros."
A few princes smiled. Others straightened.
"Nyvoria still stands," King Varyon continued. "Not because it is strong, but because it hides behind spirits and fear. That will end."
He rose from the throne.
"I will name my successor soon," he said. "But the throne will not go to the eldest. Nor the strongest alone."
Murmurs spread through the hall.
Kael's eyes remained forward.
"The crown will go to the son who proves himself worthy," the king said. "The one who brings me the head of the Nyvoria king."
The hall went still.
Some princes looked surprised. Others looked pleased.
Kael felt something cold settle in his chest.
"You will each command your own forces," King Varyon said. "Fight as you see fit. Use whatever methods you must. There are no limits."
His gaze lingered on Kael for a brief moment.
"Return victorious," the king finished. "Or do not return at all."
The princes bowed.
As they began to leave, Kael felt eyes on him. Measuring. Judging. Some saw him as a rival. Others already saw him as prey.
This was no longer about Nyvoria alone.
Outside the hall, Kael paused. The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows across the stone courtyard. His brothers scattered in different directions, each already planning their path to the throne.
Kael stood still.
He thought of fire. Of crying villages. Of a land that defended instead of conquered.
And somewhere beyond the border, he thought of the people who would suffer next.
The war was no longer just between lands.
It was between blood.