The Seal of Water

Simon begins his journey as King.

The wind howled through the high halls of Castle Talemar, carrying the scent of old stone and salt from the sea below. Thunder rolled across the horizon, as if the sky itself mourned what had passed.

Simon Von Arizhal stood alone at the top of the Watcher’s Spire, staring out over the cliffs that dropped into the churning ocean. His cloak, once ceremonial white, was soaked through with rain. Beneath it, the seal branded over his heart pulsed softly a glowing ring of blue, etched into his flesh by magic older than memory.

The Seal of Water. A blessing. A burden. A reminder.

Behind him, the heavy wooden doors creaked open. Lady Vaela, his father’s former advisor and now his steward, stepped quietly onto the wet stone. She didn’t speak at first. She simply watched him, as she had watched his father before him.

“The council waits,” she said finally.

“They’ll have to keep waiting,” Simon replied without turning.

She paused, then stepped forward. “They’re looking to you for leadership, Simon. The Alliance needs direction. Your father”

“My father is dead,” he snapped, then lowered his voice. “And this place...I hate this place.”

The words escaped before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant to say them aloud. But they rang true in the silence that followed.

He hated the way the corridors still echoed with Ra’s voice. The way every stone seemed carved with expectation. The way every noble that bowed to him now had once whispered doubts about him. He had been the quiet son, the thoughtful one; not the warrior his father had been, nor the politician like his brother. He was just Simon. The reader of old texts. The one who once believed in peace.

But now the world was burning.

The Seal pulsed again.