Prologue Continued – Part III: Voices of Ash and Fire
Far from the whispering forest of Nyhalem, beyond the cracked mirror-like rivers and windswept plateaus of Kaelyth, the world pulsed with a more intense rhythm.
In the Kingdom of Victors, where the cities never slept and the skies were a permanent orange of enchanted fog, Brenner Souka leaned against the cracked wall of polished stone in the Garden of Lightness, smoking a cigarette and a cigar... at the same time.
It was a strange sight—a giant in a flaming red shirt and blue jeans, a cowboy hat pulled down to his eyebrows, worn boots, and a melancholy expression that seemed to weigh centuries. His eyes, gray as the bottom of a dormant volcano, glowed with each snap of his fingers.
And with each snap, fire sprang to life, crackling—and then vanished as if it had never been.
He did this just to pass the time. Twelve hours of waiting for a dancing idiot.
Until he showed up, dancing like the world wasn't about to fall apart: Viktor, the man who smiled even when the sky was falling.
"Yoooo, my king of heat!" Viktor shouted, gliding down the sidewalk in his immaculate white sneakers. He wore an open white shirt, sunglasses even in the low light, a white cap turned backwards, and a bouncy walk that irritated even statues.
Brenner snorted.
"If you're late one more time, Viktor... I'll explode with rage and reduce this garden to ashes. With the statues. With the squirrels. With you. Everything."
Viktor just chuckled, dancing in circles with his fingers intertwined behind his head.
"I promise, I promise, my fiery brother. I won't be late again. Word of a dancer with a light soul.
Brenner snorted again. He didn't believe it, of course. But arguing would be a waste of time—and he hated wasting energy on words.
"Something's happening. Big. The kind that stinks before it even rots."
Viktor stopped dancing. This was serious. Brenner didn't talk like that for nothing.
"Zombians?"
"They're spreading. Burning villages, but… it's not just them. It's their new allies. The Red Xcimi. Those wolf and blood monsters."
"So broken agreements?" Viktor muttered, looking up at the sky that seemed to be slowly flaming.
"And there's more." Brenner crossed his arms. "King Hjlpkik of the North has a new advisor. No one knows where he came from. But the guy is influencing policy, decisions, even calling secret audiences."
Viktor whistled softly.
— So we have political fire, real fire, and... literal fire. Sounds like the kind of thing we need to nip in the bud.
— Or blow up, Brenner said.
— Rumor has it that the new councilor is a "lucky one." One of those born under the Broken Star. Mysterious gifts. Ancient knowledge. A man of many voices.
— Lucky ones are unlucky for everyone else, Brenner replied, spitting on the ground. And if this man is pushing the King aside... it could be the beginning of the Fall of the Star.
Viktor crossed his arms, his smile ceasing for a moment.
— Maybe it's time to reconvene the Council of the Three Kingdoms. Before the Zombians and the Xcimi decide it's worth marching on Victors.
Brenner nodded.
— And before the fire is no longer mine.
The air around Brenner shivered for a second. The stones on the ground grew hot. Viktor, quick as the wind, put a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Breathe. It's not time yet."
Brenner exhaled deeply, and the sidewalk returned to normal.
"Let's go tell old Alkir at the Golden Throne. If anyone will know what to do with this mysterious advisor, it will be him."
And the two set off together, opposite steps, purpose shared—one man made of fire, the other of dance.
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