Spero arrives back at his home in the Kingdom of Anshan. As he makes his way through the packed town square, the vibrant sounds of chatter, laughter, and bargaining fill the air. Citizens bustle about, merchants call out their wares, and the enticing aromas of various foods from the many food stands waft through the streets. As he wanders around, he catches sight of a child staring at him with curiosity. Before he could even exchange a smile with the little one, the child's mother, pulls her son close.

  "Don't look at him!” she utters to her boy. “Stay away from us, you filthy Daeva!" she spits at Spero.

  With a saddened yet resilient expression, Spero watches them retreat, the mother glancing back cautiously to ensure he doesn’t follow. Undeterred by the encounter, Spero continues to navigate the square. As he meanders through the marketplace, a passerby, a man lay witness to the commotion that had unfolded. The man decides to shadow Spero.

  * * * * *

  A weary merchant with disheveled black hair, leans on a table of treasures and goods, struggling to stay awake, propping his head up on his palm. Just as his eyelids begin to droop, a sudden CLANK jolts him awake. His gaze falls upon a bloody, battered helmet that has rolled to a stop in front of him. In a state of panic, he grits his teeth at the sight.

  "What the hell, Spero?! You've soiled my merchandise!" he shouts.

  Spero chuckles. "Deliver this to the king, Ramin?"

  “Ramin retorts, "I am not your personal messenger, Spero. You cannot simply—"

  But before Ramin can finish his sentence, Spero interrupts with a sly grin. "I keep the true origin of your 'relics' to myself, so you help me, and I help you.”

  Ramin stands holding his breath, contemplating a response. Suddenly, the entrance door creaks wide open as the arrival of a black-bearded man enters.

  With a rugged appearance and a tone of urgency, he addresses Spero, "Brother, I'm glad you're back. You look a mess!"

  Spero, the battered man in question, glances upon his body. His arms and legs bore the marks of cuts and bruises. The splatters of orc blood stain his clothes.

  "Escaping a whole army is not an easy feat, Cyrus," Spero replies.

  Cyrus, seemingly unfazed by the sight of his brother's appearance, insists, "Well, get cleaned up. Father's speech will begin momentarily."

  With a farewell nod to Ramin, Spero followed his brother out of the shop.

  * * * * *

  High above, on the balcony that overlooks the main plaza stands King Cambyses I, his crown glinting in the sunlight. Before him were Cyrus and Spero.

  The King addresses the crowd below. "Citizens of Anshan, listen closely! Our nation is on the brink of expansion, and the time has come to stake our claim in the lands of Aria. Though the path ahead may be fraught with challenges, we shall not falter in the face of adversity. The barbaric orcs have long tested our patience, but now it is time for us to strike back with the full might of our army. As proud Divinians, we stand united in our quest to preserve our heritage and ensure our prosperity. Our inherent resistance to magic sets us apart as a powerful force, capable of facing any foe. Even the elves marvel at our eternal youth, while our cleverness rivals that of the humans. We are the divine race, chosen by the gods themselves. Let the Arian Orcs know that they have underestimated our strength and resolve. We shall not yield to their threats. For the glory of Anshan!"

  As the crowd roars in support, chanting "For Anshan! For Anshan! For Anshan!", the King raises his hand in a solemn gesture, a promise of victory and glory.

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  After the speech, Spero and Cyrus embark to their cherished location, a hill that overlooks the vast expanse of their kingdom.

  "Once we take half of the Arian territory, we'll become generals." Cyrus declares, perching himself on a weathered stone.

  Spero joins Cyrus on the stone, " will become a general.”

  "Our fath—” Cyrus pauses as Spero’s eyes roll and continues. “My father sees you as part of our family. He may not show it, but he does. Ever since we took you in, our family has never been better. My relationship with my birth parents has improved, and you are never excluded from any family meeting or event. He knows that you are valuable to our kingdom. The people see that you have importance."

  Spero scoffs loudly. "Yeah, right! I've lived here for over a century, yet I'm still seen as an outsider."

  Cyrus places his hand on Spero's shoulder. "Is this about the mother and her boy?"

  Spero averts his gaze. "I'm used to it."

  "Our people have a deep history with the Daevas. Your presence reminds them of that dark past, but you shouldn't let their judgment define you."

  "Easier said than done. It'll probably take another century for everyone to even acknowledge me as one of their own."

  Cyrus stands tall and faces Spero, "As my brother and the prince of the Anshan, I will convince the people to respect you, acknowledge you, and see you as a part of the royal family. It may take some time—decades, even—but I won't rest until they do!"

  Cyrus raises his fist into the air. Spero chuckles loudly and Cyrus joins in the laughter, feeling a bit bashful but proud, nonetheless.

  "You and your kingly speeches. There's no denying you're the son of royalty."

  Cyrus gently nudges Spero. "As fun as this is, I should get going. We have an important meeting tomorrow, so get some rest. See you, brother."

  With a farewell, Cyrus heads down the hill, leaving Spero to reflect under the waning light of the setting sun. As the tranquility of the evening surrounds Spero, a sudden sense of unease grips him.

  "What do you want now, Astral?"

  In the quiet moment, a figure materializes before him - a young man with ethereal, icy-blue hair that radiates a blue aura. Intricate glowing symbols adorn both sides of his face.

  "I'm just checking up on you," Astral reveals.

  Spero stands his ground, his eyes narrowed. "I know the real reason you're here," he snaps as he rises to his feet. "You don't have to lie. I don't need you spying on me every second or reminding me about my abilities. I know the repercussions,"

  Astral approaches slowly. "The dark energy... You used it quite excessively today. I can feel it growing.”

  "If I hadn't, I'd be dead. There are times when it's appropriate, but you know better than anyone how much I hold back."

  "You're right... I apologize. Your father asked me to help."

  Spero hardens a fixed stare at him. Astral realizes he may have crossed a line.

  Just then, a magical rune materializes before him, signaling a pulsing symbol with a light chime. "I must go. Trinity is requesting my presence.”

  Spero's expression softens slightly as he watches Astral prepare to leave. "Tell your parents and the others to leave me be.”

  Astral reluctantly acknowledges Spero's request and vanishes

  * * * * *

  

  

  In a majestic world full of light and life known as the Divine Realm, Astral materializes before Trinity—the paramount trio of deities. Evaline, the Spirit of Life's; Azrael, the Angel of Death; and Chronos, the Timekeeper stand before him.

  "How was the visit with your... friend, son?" Azrael inquires.

  "Let him be, my love. Their bond holds significance in fulfilling our divine purpose," Evaline interjects

  Astral nonchalantly brushes off their remarks.

  As the Timekeeper takes a step forward, his presence commands the room. "Astral, as the Protector of the Eight Realms, your role is pivotal. Each of us has our designated duties—observe and anticipate potential allies and threats. We must ensure that the fabric of time remains unbroken. This timeline must not repeat the mistakes of our past."

  The deities all pin their attention on the Timekeeper. He investigates his shards of potential futures, a mesmerizing 4-dimensional mosaic sculpture, each shard reflecting a part of the past, present, and future.

  "The history of this timeline is unclear, but we will not allow the destruction of these realms to again."