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Yes, I was Rurdrax.
Yes, I was the heir to a throne that demanded much more than an affinity for art.
And yes, the shadows of fear and self-doubt loomed large.
But I was not going to let them defeat me.
I was here on Enchor’s Heart to prove a point, to demonstrate that I was more than just a prince with an art collection.
I felt a sense of resolve, replacing the bitterness of self-doubt.
The sight of the fog-shrouded desert, the scent of my steed, and the feel of the rough reins in my hand all reinforced my decision.
And so, I rode on.
Into the fog, toward the challenges that lay ahead, ready to face the monsters of this world and my own personal demons.
If I had to prove my worth, then so be it.
I would show them all, my father, the court, and myself, that I, Prince Lorik, was capable of more than just collecting art.
I was capable of being a hero.
I had barely managedto gather my thoughts when the voice of my security servant cut through the swirling fog, sharp and crisp, despite the muffled echo the fog created.
“Lorik, the fog is worsening. We must find shelter.”
No hint of turning around, I noticed.
That option was long gone.
The words hung in the air, fraught with a grim urgency.
The tension was almost palpable, its bitterness fighting against the dry tang of the desert air.
My grip on the reins tightened involuntarily.
Turning back was not an option.
Not when we’d come this far, not when so much was at stake.
The gentle sway of the Hiika beneath me felt more pronounced now, its rhythmic canter adding to my rising anxiety.
I took a deep breath, inhaling the heavy, fog-laden air, its chilled tendrils seeping through the gaps in my attire.
The scent was intoxicating, a unique blend of soil and the musky scent of my Hiika.
Suddenly, from the undulating grayness of the fog, a large structure loomed.
It emerged like a ship breaking through a dense sea mist, vague and ghostly at first but soon solidifying into a grand silhouette.
My security servant was quick to spot it. “There!” he exclaimed, pointing toward the structure.
His fingers, encased in his protective gloves, were firm, his urgency a beacon cutting through my fog of thoughts.
The sight was startling and comforting in equal measure.
A large building, its architecture strange yet familiar, just a few hundred meters away.
