A start of New journey

Hagen Tribe – Main Hall

In the shadowed hall of the Hagen tribe, Lord Zerath lounged upon his throne, his eyes glowing like embers in a dying fire. Calm, almost lazy, he leaned his face upon one hand, yet the stillness around him throbbed with unspoken menace.

Before him, Kaelith knelt on the cold stone floor, his entire body trembling. Sweat dripped from his brow to the black marble beneath as he tried to force words out of his throat.

“F–father… I—I have to… report…” His voice faltered, breaking under the weight of fear.

Zerath’s brow twitched, his patience thinning. A pulse of raw, suffocating energy burst from him, slamming into Kaelith like a storm.

“Why do you shiver as if you’ve committed the most unforgivable sin? Speak before I decide to tear the answer from your soul myself.”

Kaelith swallowed hard, forcing himself to explain everything—the failed ambush, the Guardian’s interference, and how the princess and guardian jumped from the bridge. His voice shook throughout, until silence reclaimed the hall.

Slowly, Zerath rose from the throne. Fury burned in his gaze, though his face remained eerily composed.
“Useless.” His words cut like steel. “You prepared everything, and still, you could not seize a single girl—one shielded by nothing but a lone Guardian.”

“My lord…” Kaelith stammered, bowing even lower, “then…then now..what should we do with the kingdom?”

Zerath’s aura suddenly flared, his voice thundering against the walls.“Kingdom? Hah. Cast it into the flames if you wish—I have no need for such trash! What I want… is the girl. Search every valley, every shadow, every corner of this world until you bring her back to me. I do not care if she is breathing or a corpse. Until I see her with my own eyes, I will not believe she has perished.”

---
A Hidden Cave – morning light

The soft dripping of water echoed in the cave, a delicate rhythm against the silence. Shafts of morning light slipped through cracks in the stone, spilling onto the mossy ground and shimmering like fragments of a dream.

Curled against the damp wall, Princess Ninsula sat with her knees drawn close, her long silver-white hair falling like a veil around her trembling figure. Her hands muffled her sobs, but the sound of her heartache still filled the hollow space.

She remembered—how she was strolling in the palace garden only yesterday, how laughter had seemed so near, and how suddenly everything shattered when Hagen warriors stormed in. Her soldiers fell one by one, crimson staining the marble. She had run through smoke and shadows, barefoot and terrified, until she stumbled and almost got caught by that red-haired man from hagen tribe .

Her voice cracked as she whispered, “How could this happen…? I wish… I wish it were only a nightmare…”

Gathering her courage, she stepped outside. The world beyond was breathtaking—mist curling around the green cliffs, the forest glistening with dew. Yet beauty only deepened her grief. She turned, her voice breaking softly:
“Can’t we… go back? Back to the castle? How is my father? Tell me… please…”

Across the clearing, the Guardian sat upon a moss-covered stone, his robes laid aside as he bound the wound on his arm. His chest rose with quiet, controlled breaths, the light revealing the scar-lined strength of his body. His back is facing the princess.At her words, his hands still. He tied the final knot on the bandage on his arm, then lowered his gaze to the earth, lost in memory.

---
Three Days Earlier

When granted his short leave, he had not returned to the Naze clan. That place, drenched in the shadows of his orphaned childhood, only carried wounds. Instead, he had wandered the central city in silence, walking streets alive with merchants and chatter.

But then the whispers came—panic rippling through the crowd. “The castle has been attacked!” Families rushed to gather their children, doors slammed shut, and fear thickened the air. His blood turned to ice.

Without hesitation, he vanished in lighting speed , sprinting with every ounce of strength back toward the castle.

What he found was ruin. The grand halls of Lorian burned, shattered glass glittering among the flames. The throne room lay broken, its mirrors shattered, pillars collapsed.while walking he heard a muffled voice. He immediately turns his face to the direction of voice and his eyes widen. 

And amidst the wreckage—“Grandpa…” His voice cracked, his heart twisting.

The old man, his mentor, his only family, lay crumpled and bleeding, his breaths ragged. The young Guardian dropped to his knees, trembling as he pulled the frail body into his arms.
“Grandpa—what happened? Where is King Owan?”

The old man’s eyes fluttered open, dull with pain, yet still carrying that unyielding light. His bloodied lips whispered, “My child… Hagen attacked… I used everything to shield the king. At the last moment, I pushed him away… But the princess…” He coughed, blood staining his chest.
The Guardian’s arms tightened, his voice breaking. But the old man only smiled faintly, weakly lifting a trembling hand.

“She… she is their target. They seek not the kingdom, but her. Remember,Protect her. With your life. That is… our duty…”

The Guardian’s throat ached as tears welled, falling against the old man’s fading warmth.

“You’re still so emotional…” the elder chuckled faintly. “All my strict training… and you never changed. But is it not so graceful to die like this?. We are born to protect, even if it means dying like this…”

And with that, the light in his eyes dimmed smile fading.His body dissolved into glowing motes, fading into the flames. The Guardian grasped at the sparks desperately, his silent cries swallowed by the ruin.

It was the first—and perhaps last—time he had ever wept.

---The Present

The princess’s voice pulled him back.“I asked you something…”

He blinked, the memory fading, and silently pulled his shirt back over his shoulders. Rising to his feet, he stepped toward her, then dropped to one knee. His bandaged arm pressed to his chest, his purple gaze steady despite the ache within.

“There is no one left, Master. Grandpa believed King Owan may have survived… but even he was not certain. Wherever you wish to go, I will follow. I will take you anywhere.”

Ninsula’s lips trembled, her bare feet curling against the damp earth. She looked away, tears clinging to her lashes.

“I… am no master anymore. The kingdom is gone. Don’t call me that…you are free finally you should be happy..”

For a moment, he only watched her, then exhaled quietly. His voice, when it came, was firm, like steel forged in ice.

“My loyalty was never bound to the kingdom. It is bound to you. Wherever you go, I will follow. My life… belongs to you, Master.”

Princess Ninsula sighes then sat quietly on a smooth stone , her shoulders slumping beneath the weight of her thoughts. Her feet throbbed, bruised from endless running, the pain making every step feel heavier than the last.
Softly, almost to herself, she murmured,

“I have my uncle… my father’s brother. He lives far away—on a great island, ruling his own kingdom. My father and he had… conflicts. That’s why they stopped speaking, and why I’ve never met him for so long. But… perhaps, if I find him, he might help me… maybe he can tell me what became of my father and how I can find him .”

Her words trailed into silence. She lowered her gaze, fingers tightening on her white teary skirt. Then, lifting her eyes to him, she whispered, fragile but resolute:“Can you really take me there? I don’t know of any other safe place…”

Her lips trembled as she added, almost pleading, 

“But you have to promise me… no more calling me ‘Master.’ I don’t want that title anymore. Not now. We… we can just be friends.”

The Guardian, still kneeling, kept his eyes lowered, his silence thick as the mist curling at the cave’s mouth. At last, he bowed his head slightly.

“If that is your wish, Princess… I will take you there.”

But the second part of her request—the word friends—he let slip past him, unacknowledged. As always.
He rose and turned his back to her, moving with that same calm, impenetrable air. Her lips puffed into a pout, her pale, dirt-stained cheeks puffing slightly as she crossed her arms.

“Why are you ignoring me again? If you call me Master one more time, I’ll—I'll kill you, really!”

 she huffed, eyes squeezed shut in childish frustration, swinging her legs idly from the rock.

Step..!step..! 

But then she froze, her eyes widening as she felt the sudden warmth of his touch. Startled, she glanced down.
The Guardian had crouched before her, one strong hand holding her slender ankle. In his other hand was a coconut shell filled with clear water. He washed away the dirt and dried blood from her bruised feet with quiet precision, never lifting his gaze.

“What… what are you doing?” she stammered, her heart fluttering.

He gave no answer, only worked with calm, deliberate movements. From a pouch at his side, he drew broad, green silverleaves, known for their healing strength.these plants are rich in healing quality and only found heavily in lorian kingdom mountains. With a quiet focus,he firstly wrap bandage around her small feet then he began binding the leaves around her feet, each wrap neat and firm. But it wasn’t only practical—the way he folded and arranged them created an almost delicate pattern, as though the leaves themselves were meant to adorn her.

His dark hair fell forward, shadows brushing across his face as he worked, his expression unreadable, his hands steady despite the roughness of battle still clinging to them.By looking at his calm face and feeling his warm fingers on her feet  princess ninsula blush look away annoyingly. 

When at last he finished, he tied the last strip in place and stood. His voice was even, almost cold.“It’s temporary. Enough to ease your steps until we reach the port . For now… this will let you walk.”

Still… he had called her Master. And she forget to kill him. 

Ninsula lowered her gaze to her feet—and her eyes lit with surprise. The pain had dulled beneath the cool leaves, but more than that, the careful design almost looked like woven sandals. Her lips parted, a soft blush rising to her cheeks.

“W–wow…” she breathed, stand up, spinning slightly to see them better. “It’s so pretty! How can hands like yours—hands that fight and kill—create something like this?”

She laughed softly, the sound breaking through her earlier sorrow as she stood and twirled lightly, her white dress swaying around her bruised legs. For the first time since the fall of her kingdom, a sparkle returned to her eyes.And seeing her happy at this simple task his lips curl in a little smile but he immediately hides it.. 

Just as she twirled with delight,when a sudden weight landed lightly yet firmly across her head and shoulders. She froze, fumbling, and pulled the heavy fabric away from her face. When she looked down, she realized it was a long black robe which he gives her — thick, worn, carrying the faint scent of ash and rain. Slowly, she placed it back over her head, the hood falling low enough to shadow her features and covering her whole figure. She pout cutely and narrows her blue eyes " You should have told me before throwing this robe over me " 

He was already cloaked in the same dark garment, his tall frame hidden beneath its folds. Tugging the edge of his own hood down further, he tilted his face so the light couldn’t touch it. His voice, low and steady, carried the calm of someone who had already planned each step.

“Wear that, Master,” he said without looking at her directly. “We will go out at once… and then head toward Port Arra. From there, a ship will take us to the Naran Kingdom.”

His words were simple, but in them she heard a weight — as if he was already calculating the dangers of the road ahead. She clutched the robe tighter around her shoulders, the fabric strangely comforting despite its roughness. For the first time since her lost, she felt less like a lost princess and more like someone about to step into a world that had long been hidden from her eyes.

( plz if anyone like my story just comment a little or any like it makes me so happy .😊thank you!)