In the distance, the Kingdom of Hualian, a realm renowned for its breathtaking natural beauty and just ruler, stood as a haven for influential people to trade and seek employment. The king’s influence was immense, and his wisdom brought prosperity to the land.

  However, as time passed, the citizens received devastating news that shook the entire kingdom, their beloved King Khein had passed away unexpectedly. The shocking death left the people and every loyal noble who served him in mourning. For three consecutive days, the Kingdom of Hualian was enveloped in grief over their fallen king.

  Time moved on, and a new ruler was appointed, much to the surprise of the people. The one who inherited the throne after King Khein’s passing was none other than the second son among his four children, raising countless questions and murmurs among the citizens.

  Years went by, and the descendants of King Khein found their own paths, each marrying and welcoming beautiful children into their families. Two years after the coronation, a strange phenomenon occurred once more in the kingdom of Hualian. The sky turned gloomy, lightning cracked across the heavens, and fierce winds swept through the city, signs that something was amiss.

  Inside the grand hall, Queen Valera cradled her two-year-old son, one of King Themis’ sons. The boy, with wide, curious eyes, pointed at the stormy sky and babbled with a lisp,

  "Sopeler... Sopeler... Hahah!"

  The queen looked down, confused by his words, but the little boy simply laughed, as if entertained by some hidden knowledge.

  "What did you say, darling?" she whispered gently, brushing his snowy hair from his face.

  But the boy only repeated the strange word, grinning innocently, leaving the queen bewildered.

  Far from the palace, at Ravenwood Manor, the atmosphere was tense and filled with urgency. Lady Evelyn Ravenwood, wife of Duke Harrds Ravenwood, was in the midst of labor. Sweat dampened her forehead, and her cries of pain echoed through the room. The midwives whispered among themselves, anxious about the storm outside.

  Finally, a sharp, desperate cry rang out, and a newborn’s wail pierced the air. The storm seemed to relent at that moment, the sky clearing almost instantly.

  "It’s a boy!" one of the midwives exclaimed, wrapping the baby in a soft linen cloth.

  Lady Evelyn opened her eyes weakly and looked at her son.

  "He... has stormy gray eyes," one of the midwives murmured in awe.

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  "And white hair, just like his mother," another added, carefully cradling the infant.

  Meanwhile, within the palace library, an old scholar was arranging ancient tomes when one particular book fell from the highest shelf. The cover bore an intricate seal, a pair of wings encircling a cloaked figure. Curious, the scholar dusted it off and squinted at the faded title.

  "The Prophecy of the Lost Sorcerer..." he muttered under his breath.

  As he flipped it open, a passage caught his attention

  "When the heavens rage and the earth trembles, the lost sorcerer shall be reborn. Marked by eyes of storm and a soul shrouded in light, he will walk the earth once more, his fate entwined with the rise and fall of empires."

  The scholar froze, his hands trembling as realization struck him.

  "No... it can't be..." he whispered, eyes wide with fear and awe.

  The old library is dusty and forgotten, stacked with countless books and tomes. A weary scholar or literature enthusiast, maybe someone just seeking knowledge or trying to sort through the mess, accidentally knocks over a pile of old books. Amid the chaos, one tome catches his eye—a massive, leather-bound book with a seal that seems almost alive.

  The cover bears a symbol—a pair of outstretched wings forming a circle, with a cloaked figure at the center, almost like it's guarding the knowledge within. The seal itself pulses faintly, like a heartbeat. Intrigued and a little nervous, the scholar wipes off the dust and carefully pries the book open, and as the seal breaks, a surge of energy makes the air grow heavy and a sudden gust of wind blew the scholar face after the seal was breaks with a sounds.

  "In the birth of every millennium, the world shall be blessed—and cursed—by the emergence of a soul intertwined with the essence of creation itself. Born under the omen of the weeping stars, this sorcerer shall possess power beyond comprehension, able to bend fate and shatter destinies.

  Yet such power comes at a dire cost, for their presence disrupts the balance of realms. Thus, the one who bears this gift is hunted, feared, and revered, their name whispered in terror and awe throughout ages long past.

  Many sought to claim their power, to chain the very force of the world itself, but none prevailed. Only ruins and ashes remained where the sorcerer once walked, until the world itself wept for their passing.

  The last of their kind vanished from time’s grasp—lost to history, erased from mortal minds. Yet fate is not so easily shattered, and destiny not so easily denied.

  When the sky bleeds and shadows reclaim their rightful place, the Lost Sorcerer shall rise anew, reborn to walk the earth once more, to either claim vengeance or restore balance to the world. Beware the bearer of wings and shadows, for their soul carries both salvation and destruction."

  The scholar’s hands tremble as he reads, and he feels an overwhelming sense of dread, as if something or someone just woke up from a long, dreamless sleep. And softly the scholar muttered "A second book of The Prophecy of The Lost Sorcerers."

  to be continued..

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