Back in the tranquil heart of Veridia, the sun painted golden rays across the estate of the warrior who had become a legend—Adam. The people knew the house as one of quiet nobility. Birds danced through the trees, the garden bloomed with peace… but within the walls, hearts quietly beat with prayers for a son who had walked into the unknown.
Then came the sound of hooves.
A trumpet blared, crisp and regal.
A royal herald stepped forth:
"Make way for His Majesty, King Zayd of Veridia!"
Gasps echoed across the courtyard as guards gently opened the iron gates. Sahabi and his wife exchanged stunned glances. The King—Zayd himself—was coming, not as a ruler, but as family.
Dressed in royal silver robes, with his crown shining under the noon sun, Zayd stepped in, surrounded by a modest procession. Yet he walked ahead of them all, his strides full of respect, not arrogance.
Sahabi bowed. His wife did too, lowering her gaze out of honor.
"Your Majesty, this is an honor—"
But Zayd cut them off with a warm smile.
"Please. May I come in?"
Sahabi nodded. "Of course, sire. This is your home."
But Zayd chuckled.
"No need for titles. Just call me… grandson."
His words struck like lightning. Sahabi's wife covered her mouth, her eyes softening, voice trembling.
"Grandson…"
Zayd smiled more brightly now.
"Yes. Grandfather, grandmother—I insist."
Emotion filled the air.
"Bring our grandson the finest tea!" she said to the maids with teary joy. "And fruit! Sweets! All his favorites."
They sat together beneath the flowering vines of the inner courtyard, like family rediscovered.
But as the laughter calmed and the tea cooled, Zayd leaned forward, his tone shifting into something heavier.
"Grandfather… have you heard from Adam? He left in silence. Refused my offer of royal guards. Said nothing about his destination."
Sahabi exhaled deeply.
"Yes… and I told him he shouldn't take anyone. Any man you sent would be walking into death's arms."
Zayd blinked, confused.
"Where? Where did he go?"
The old man leaned closer, lowering his voice into a whisper.
"Have you heard the name… Varnok?"
Zayd's cup nearly slipped from his hand.
"That's just a myth—an old ruin in forgotten books!"
Sahabi shook his head slowly.
"No. Varnok was real. A powerful kingdom beyond the Bleeding Peaks. But it fell. Not from outside enemies… but from within—treachery, blood rituals, a cursed war."
Zayd's throat tightened.
"…And Adam went there?"
Sahabi nodded.
"He walks into the ashes of an empire built on broken oaths. And you must know why."
The king leaned closer, and Sahabi whispered—his voice barely audible:
"Because I was born in Varnok. I am the true heir to that forgotten throne."
Zayd's face drained of color.
Sahabi continued, eyes misty, voice heavy with memory.
"But I gave it up. I chose peace. I fled with my wife before the blood moon rose. I lived as a stranger… raised my son in silence. Until the past came knocking."
Zayd was speechless. He looked from Sahabi to his wife, who nodded softly, her eyes wet.
"Then… Adam… is not Varnok's heir?"
"No," Sahabi said. "But he is its guardian now. He walks the path I could not. And there's more…"
He paused. Jasmine stepped into the courtyard now, her presence commanding.
Sahabi gestured toward her.
"This woman… this incredible soul… raised Adam through the worst pain a mother can see. Do you know what he once was?"
Zayd frowned, puzzled.
"He was… blind, wasn't he?"
Sahabi nodded.
"Blind. Crippled. He could barely speak. Doctors gave up. Priests thought him cursed."
Zayd's eyes widened.
Jasmine spoke now, her voice as smooth as wind over water.
"But something happened. Something divine. One day, he stood. He spoke. He saw."
Zayd gasped.
"A miracle?"
"Or destiny," Sahabi said. "Call it what you will. But his healing… it was no ordinary act. It was as if the spirit of Varnok itself reached out and said: You are needed."
Zayd stood up slowly, processing it all.
"So he was broken… but chosen?"
"Exactly," Jasmine whispered. "He was meant to suffer, so he could rise. And now… he returns not to claim a crown… but to bury a ghost."
Zayd looked to the horizon.
"He carries the burden I never knew… and he carries it alone."
Sahabi stood beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Not alone. We carry him in spirit. But his path is not ours. It is paved with the bones of traitors and kings alike."
Zayd swallowed.
"Then may the gods of Varnok protect him… and fear him."
He turned back to them, his voice steady, his face solemn.
"Thank you—for raising a man who could rise from the ashes and walk toward the fire. You've given this kingdom more than a hero. You've given it a legend."
And with that, Zayd bowed—not as a king—but as a child grateful to the family that shaped his greatest ally.
As he stepped out into the sunlight and the gates slowly closed behind him, the breeze carried a whisper from Sahabi's lips:
"May the winds of Varnok guide you, my son. And may the world remember who you truly are."
Far, far away—beyond the cursed lands—a lone figure walked through ruins long forgotten.
And the kingdom that once rejected its true heir?
Would soon awaken… to Adam.
As King Zayd stepped out from the humble mansion of Sahabi, his heart was heavy with revelations.
The gentle winds of Veridia brushed against his royal cloak, but could not cool the storm now brewing in his chest. He had come seeking clarity, and what he had found shook the foundations of his kingdom's past.
Adam… once a crippled boy, blind and broken, now a legend with ties to a forgotten kingdom.
Sahabi… not just a wise elder, but the true heir to the throne of Varnok, who chose peace over power.
And Jasmine… the quiet strength who had raised a miracle with nothing but love and faith.
As Zayd descended the marble steps, his trusted advisor appeared beside him and leaned in, whispering urgently into his ear.
"Your Majesty… news from the outer border. An army approaches the palace. Wild mercenaries. Their leader is… Inwaar."
Zayd's steps halted. His hand clenched into a fist. He did not flinch, did not blink.
But deep within, a ripple of dread surged through him. He knew that name. Everyone did.
Inwaar—the war-crazed legend, conqueror of cities, feared leader of the Baghdud mercenaries. A man who once claimed he would kneel to no king.
Zayd straightened, composed his face, and nodded.
"Prepare the palace. Ready the guards. No one panics."
He waved goodbye to Sahabi and Jasmine with a smile, his tone warm and respectful.
"Thank you—for the truth… and for raising a man who might save this kingdom without even knowing it."
And then he was gone.
But as soon as he entered the gates of the palace, the warmth vanished.
"Summon the generals. Lock down the gates. Prepare for war."
He stormed into the throne room, cape flowing behind him like a dark tide. His advisors ran behind him. Soldiers snapped to formation. The scent of oil and sharpened steel filled the corridors.
But when Zayd flung open the grand doors of the throne room—expecting to find only his council awaiting—he froze.
Because seated casually on the steps of the throne… was Inwaar himself.
Relaxed. Unarmed. Smirking.
His boots were muddied, but his armor gleamed. His eyes scanned the room, then landed directly on the stunned king.
The guards reacted instantly—blades drawn, bows lifted.
But Inwaar raised a single hand, and his men outside stayed back.
"Oh, please," Inwaar said dryly, his tone dripping with amusement. "If I wanted to conquer your kingdom, I'd have sent a thousand arrows, not walked in like a messenger."
Zayd's jaw tightened. "Why are you here, warlord?"
Inwaar stood, slow and deliberate. "To meet you, my king," he said, with a theatrical bow that oozed sarcasm.
The air was taut with tension. Zayd's fingers hovered near the hilt of his sword.
But just then, Inwaar's gaze drifted toward the far wall… and something changed.
There, mounted above the fireplace, was a grand portrait of Adam—regal, defiant, and unyielding.
Maximus beside him. The armor of Veridia across his shoulders. The fire of destiny in his eyes.
Inwaar stepped toward it, slowly, reverently.
"That face…" he murmured. "Now that's a face I've been searching for… for years."
Zayd stiffened. "You know him?"
Inwaar turned to him—and what he did next stunned everyone.
He went down on one knee.
"Adam," Inwaar said, voice hoarse but strong, "is the only man who ever defeated me. And spared me."
The throne room gasped.
"I brought my army here to tear this kingdom apart… but now I realize, this is the land he calls home."
He rose to his feet and faced Zayd with sincerity few had ever seen from him.
"If Adam chose you… then I choose peace."
He turned to his men outside the doors and shouted:
"Lower your weapons! We are no longer at war!"
Zayd was speechless.
"You… you mean to ally with Veridia?"
Inwaar nodded. "So long as Adam breathes, the Baghdud will protect this kingdom. Let this land be under the shadow of his name."
Zayd took a breath, slowly stepping forward.
"And what do you want in return?"
Inwaar chuckled. "Just a chance to stand beside him again… in the battles yet to come."
The king offered his hand.
And in front of generals, nobles, and guards—two men, once destined for war—sealed an alliance in the name of the warrior who had unknowingly united them all.