"I know why you're here," Guwayne finally muttered, his voice taut with bitterness."To explain why Aiden gets to go, but not me.Your own son, the heir, left behind like a child."
Thorgrin sighed, placing a hand on the stone wall.He had anticipated this.Aiden's inclusion had been deliberate—a way to season the Legion youths without risking the throne's future.But to Guwayne, it was a slight, a very public one at that."Aiden is skilled, yes, but this mission is not a glory hunt.It's a reconnaissance mission.A potentially deadly one.I chose him because the future of the kingdom does not rest on his shoulders."
Guwayne whirled to face him, eyes flashing."And it does on mine?Then why not let me prove I am worthy of it?You've trained me for this—swordplay, strategy, even the druid arts from Aunt Alistair.But when the Shield cracks, when real peril calls, you sideline me.Am I not ready?Or am I just...not enough?"
The words stung, echoing Thorgrin's own doubts from his youth.He remembered begging his father to join the King's Legion, only to be rebuffed, forced to forge his path through sheer will.But Guwayne's life had been different—sheltered by peace, groomed in luxury.Thorgrin wondered if that had been a mistake.
"You're more than enough, son," Thorgrin said, his voice firm but gentle."That's why I need you here.Not charging north, but safeguarding what we've built.Your mother—she's the heart of this kingdom.With me gone, she'll bear the weight of rule alone.Eyes will watch for weakness: nobles scheming, villagers fearing omens.I need you to watch over her, to maintain the peace we've fought so hard to secure."
Guwayne crossed his arms, unconvinced."Watch over Mother?Maintain peace?That's servant's work, Father.Leading means battle, valor in the field.Like you did—slaying the Blood Lord, restoring the Shield.Songs are sung of your deeds, not of standing guard at home."
Thorgrin nodded, acknowledging the fire in his son's words.He stepped closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a sacred truth."Leading is not just leading men into battle, Guwayne.Valor is so much more than that.It's the quiet strength to hold the line when others falter, to inspire calm in chaos.It's protecting the vulnerable, making the hard choices that no one sees.I learned that the hard way—through loss, through exile.You think my quests were all glory?They were born of necessity, of pain.By far the hardest parts were those no one saw, the ones nobody will sing ballads about.Here, in King's Court, you'll lead by example: patrolling the walls, reassuring the people, aiding your mother in council.Being seen.That's true valor—the kind that sustains a kingdom, not just conquers foes."
Guwayne's gaze softened slightly, but the sulk lingered.He glanced down at the ring, twisting it on his finger."And this?You gave it to me on my name day; said it was for great things.Special things, you called them.But how can they happen if I'm caged here, waiting like a squire?"
Thorgrin placed a hand on Guwayne's arm, feeling the warmth of the ring through his touch.It pulsed faintly, as if alive to their conversation."Special things are going to happen to you, son.That's why I entrusted the ring to you.It's not just a relic—it's a beacon for destiny.But destiny doesn't always come roaring like a dragon.Sometimes it whispers, building in the quiet moments.You must be patient.The things most desired are not found by searching for them frantically, but by waiting, by preparing.The ring will guide you when the time is right."
Guwayne's eyes narrowed, a spark of rebellion igniting."You didn't wait, Father.You forced your way into the Legion, not by patience, but by action.You left your village, faced the Wilds, claimed the Destiny Sword.Why should I sit idle while you ride out again?"
Thorgrin paused, the truth of Guwayne's words hitting like a hammer.He turned away, gazing over the parapet, memories flooding back: his humble beginnings as a shepherd's son, the rejections, then the quests that had forged him into a king.These past fifteen years had been a golden age—peace, prosperity, family.But in that case, had he shielded Guwayne too much?No famines, no invasions, no desperate marches through snow and fire.Guwayne had known only training grounds and festivals, not the raw edge of survival.But that wasn’t his son’s fault.
"You're right," Thorgrin admitted, his voice heavy."I didn't wait.I charged forward, driven by a fire that nearly consumed me.But those were different times, Guwayne—times of war, of desperation.These past fifteen years...they've been easy.Too easy, perhaps.I've given you a life of comfort, of lessons without true peril.Maybe I've gone too soft on you in your upbringing, fearing to repeat my own hardships.Bringing you north now, into unknown dangers...it would be a mistake.You're not hardened yet, not in the way the Wilds demand.Aiden and the others—they're expendable in a way you are not.That may sound harsh, but it is the truth.The throne's future rests on you."
Guwayne's face flushed, a mix of anger and hurt."Expendable?Aiden's my friend, Father.And I'm no fragile heir.I've bested every apprentice in the yard, mastered spells that make the air shimmer.But you choose him over me?It's humiliating.The court will whisper—the prince left behind while a commoner's son rides to glory."
The disappointment was palpable, hanging in the air like storm clouds.Thorgrin could see it in Guwayne's tensed muscles, the way his fists clenched at his sides.Aiden's selection had been a calculated choice, but to Guwayne, it was a betrayal, a public affirmation that he wasn't trusted, wasn't ready.Thorgrin regretted not foreseeing this wound, but the decision stood.The north held perils that not even he knew the seriousness of.To risk him now was folly.
"I know it stings," Thorgrin said, his tone softening."But this isn't about glory or favoritism.It's about the Ring's survival.If the breach widens, if more beasts come...the kingdom will need you here, strong and vigilant.Step up, Guwayne.Be the man we all know you can be.Not by chasing battles, but by doing what's best for your mother and the kingdom—not for yourself.Protect the hearth while I mend the wall.That's the valor of a true leader.You may not see that now.I would not have seen it at your age, I admit that, but I see it very clearly now.”
Guwayne met his father's gaze, the storm in his eyes subsiding to a simmer.He didn't nod, didn't agree outright, but the rigid set of his jaw eased."And if waiting means missing my destiny?What then?"
Thorgrin smiled faintly."Destiny finds those who are ready, son.Trust the ring.Trust yourself."
He placed a heavy hand on Guwayne's shoulder, feeling the solid muscle beneath—the promise of the warrior he would become.Thorgrin hoped his words had pierced the veil of youthful impatience, planted seeds of wisdom that would root in time.But as he stood there, a sudden chill gripped him.Argon's words echoed in his mind, from years ago, before the old druid had faded into the ether: "The boy will bear a power greater than yours, but shadows will test him.Leave him to the light, or darkness may claim him.”
Was keeping Guwayne here, leaving him to the light?Or was it abandoning him to unseen trials?Thorgrin wondered, doubt creeping in like mist from the Canyon.The breach north called, but the true danger might lurk closer to home.
Would he be better after all keeping him under his watchful eye?
And, there had been Argon’s other prophecy.The one that he had never been able to shake from his mind.That one day Guwayne would rise to become a dark lord, more powerful even than Thorgrin.
Were those words set in stone?Surely if anyone could change the future, it was Thorgrin.Or, if the prophecy was correct, Guwayne himself.
But to change your destiny, you must want to change it.Where did his son’s heart truly lay?In the light or the dark?
It was impossible for a father to look at his only child and not think the former, but…
With a final squeeze, Thorgrin turned and descended the stairs, leaving Guwayne to the wind and his thoughts.The company awaited, and the road north beckoned.But in his heart, Thorgrin prayed he had chosen wisely—for his son, for his family, and for the future of the Ring.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gwendolyn stood atop the castle's highest balcony, the cool evening breeze whipping at her hair as she watched the small company of riders disappear into the gathering dusk.Thorgrin led them, his druid's robe fluttering like a banner, the Destiny Sword gleaming at his side even in the fading light.Reece and Erec flanked him, their armor catching the last rays of the sun, while Kendrick and the others formed a tight, disciplined line behind.They rode north, toward the Highlands, toward the unknown peril that had shattered the illusion of their hard-won peace.The sound of hooves faded into the distance, swallowed by the rolling hills and the encroaching night, leaving Gwendolyn with a hollow ache in her chest.
She clutched the stone railing, her knuckles whitening.Fifteen years of stability—of rebuilding cities, forging alliances, nurturing a kingdom from the ashes of war—and now this.A crack in the Shield, beasts slithering through like venom through a vein.Had she grown complacent?Had they all?Thorgrin's departure felt like a thread pulling loose from a tapestry, threatening to unravel everything.
"My Queen," a soft voice said from behind her.Gwendolyn turned to see Lireal, her trusted handmaiden and healer, approaching with a concerned frown.Lireal had been by her side since their return to the Ring, her steady presence a balm in turbulent times, and an inspiration in calmer ones."The council awaits.The nobles grow restless with the festival halted."
Gwendolyn nodded, straightening her gown—a deep blue silk embroidered with the golden MacGil crest."Lead on, Lireal.The Ring does not pause for my worries."
