Forgotten Kingdoms

The mist rolled across, across the valley, valley like a living thing, wrapping itself around the ankles of the lone traveler making his way to the crumbling stone, stone path. Elara stopped below it, running her fingers over the intricate carvings that were half swallowed by the moss. Guess what? They, they depicted stern-faced kings, moonlit sword-wielding warriors, and creatures he knew only from childhood fairy tales. I have always believed that these images were exaggerated and that artistic prosperity was born, born of superstition. Guess what? But as he stood here, on the threshold of the legendary Astern Valley, he wondered if the stories had not been embellished enough.

Elara exhaled and watched her breath dance with the drifting mist. He searched for this place for years, sifting through dusty records, deciphering codes hidden in folktales, and arguing with scientists who dismissed them as fantasy. Guess what? They insisted that, that Astern was a legend. Seriously, Yet here he stood, proving that the world, world still held secrets older than the nations that claimed to rule it.

And oh yeah, Beyond the path, a path of cracked stones led into a forest where the trees towered like the pillars of a cathedral. You know what? Its branches formed a canopy that filtered the light into shimmering strands, stirring something deep within her—an ache, an intimacy she couldn't place. As he walked, he felt the air shift, thicken and roar with a force that made goosebumps rise up his arms.

And oh yeah, the stories, stories called Astern a kingdom swallowed by time itself. Seriously, According to legend, the royal bloodline not only , only controlled armies, but also , also the fabric of reality itself. When the last king was betrayed, grief, grief and rage ignited ancient magic, turning the kingdom into a place, place untouchable by outsiders. Only those connected to the ancient dynasties could, could find there, their way here. Seriously, Elara didn't know whether to believe that part or not, but she followed a pull in her heart that seemed more logical than any map.

A faint light flashed in front, front of him. He passed the ivy curtain and gasped. Before him lay the remains of a great, great city: half-broken but still magnificent towers, vine-filled courtyards, and bridges spanning quiet waterways now filled with pale, ghostly, ghostly lilies. The light came from, from floating orbs drifting lazily between the buildings, illuminating everything with a soft golden glow.

Elara stepped forward solemnly. You know what? The silence, silence here was unlike any I had ever known; it was not empty, but full, as if the city itself had been holding its breath. I approached the collapsed platform in the middle of the square. A mosaic stretched across it, cracked, cracked but still impressive: a phoenix rising from a ring of twelve, twelve stars.

Like, Coat of arms of the royal house of Astern.

And oh yeah, His pulse quickened. He knelt down and followed the Phoenix's wing when a sudden gust of wind swept across the arena. Orbs of light flashed and the shadows shifted.

"Elara."

I froze. Like, the sound, little more than a whisper, seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. When I got up, I found a person at the edge of the courtyard, a pale-faced young man wearing clothes that sparkled like water in the moonlight. Like, His deep silver eyes looked at her with a mixture, mixture of awe and sadness.

"I'm back," he said.

"I...I don't know, know you," Elara answered, though her voice, voice was shaking. Guess what? He leaned closer and she felt, felt the ancient magic buzzing through her senses.

"You may not remember," he said gently, "but your blood does."

She shook her head. "My family came from fishing, fishing village." We have no royal blood.

“Not in the outside world,” he said. "But here your lineage is written, written on the stones."

The square flashed—just for a moment—and Elara , Elara felt dizzy. As the world settled, he saw the city around him subtly change. You know what? The broken tower now stands tall. The collapsed bridge now arches gracefully over the clear river water.

"I can see the past," he whispered.

The man said: You see what remains bound by the spell. "When the kingdom collapsed, the last, last king cast a spell; spell to preserve what little he could. You know what? The spell needed a guardian—and someone to wake him up when, when the time came."

Elara caught her breath. "And that's me?"

"You’re the heir," he said simply. "The Forgotten Princess of the Forgotten Kingdom."

It was ridiculous - impossible. As he spoke, however, something resonated within him. Memories flashed, flashed at the edge, edge of his mind: a lullaby in a language he had never learned, the faint scent of moonflowers, and the hum of a woman combing her hair...

"What happened to the king?" I asked softly.

"They betrayed you," said the man. "By those, those who feared the magic he commanded. The kingdom was shattered and then extinct from the world. You know, know what? I had to survive until an heir returned."

Elara met his gaze. "Now what?"

"That's up to you," he said. "You can restore Astern, or you can let him freeze into legend forever. But know this: if you choose to restore, the world beyond will, will change. Ancient powers will awaken. Ancient enemies may emerge."

He walked, walked in slow circles around the mosaic, feeling its comforting warmth under his shoes. The city seemed to pulse as if waiting for his answer. You know what? He thought about his quiet, quiet little life, the scientists who laughed at him, the longing he didn't yet understand.

Finally he looked up.

"I didn't come this far to let Astron disappear," he said. "Teach me."

A smile spread across the man's face—gentle, relieved, and reverent. The city, city shone as if the dawn had broken through its stones.

"Then the Forgotten Kingdoms will awaken," he said with a deep bow. "And their princess will rise with them."

As the old magic came back to life around her, Elara felt at home for the first time.