Eclipse of Eternity: The lost Kingdom's Curse

The rhythmic clang of hammer on steel echoed through the quiet village of Emberforge. Kael wiped the sweat from his brow, his muscles aching from hours at the forge. The heat of the flames was a familiar comfort, but tonight, something felt… wrong. A strange unease gnawed at him, like the stillness before a storm.

He paused, glancing at the mark on his wrist—a crescent moon encircled by a ring of stars. It had been there since birth, a mystery no one could explain. Lately, it had begun to glow faintly, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He tried to ignore it, focusing on the sword he was crafting. But the mark seemed to thrum louder, as if demanding his attention.

The sun had long since set, and the village was cloaked in darkness. Kael was about to extinguish the forge when a cold wind swept through the workshop, snuffing out the flames. He froze, his hand tightening around the hammer. The air grew heavy, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

“Who’s there?” he called, his voice echoing in the silence.

A figure emerged from the shadows, cloaked in tattered robes and leaning heavily on a gnarled staff. The man’s face was gaunt, his skin pale as moonlight, but his eyes burned with an intensity that made Kael step back.

“You feel it, don’t you?” the stranger rasped, his voice like the creak of ancient wood. “The pull of the eclipse.”

Kael’s heart pounded. “What do you want?”

The man staggered forward, his breath labored. “I am Eryndor, the last guardian of the Eclipse Amulet. And you, Kael of Emberforge, are the last hope of Lythoria.”

Kael shook his head, backing away. “You’ve got the wrong person. I’m just a blacksmith.”

Eryndor’s gaze fell to Kael’s wrist, where the mark glowed faintly. “That mark is no mere birthright. It is the sign of the lost royal bloodline—the bloodline that once ruled Lythoria before the curse consumed them.”

Kael’s mind raced. He had heard the stories, of course—the tales of a kingdom torn apart by a curse, of a royal family that vanished without a trace. But they were just that—stories. “You’re mistaken,” he said firmly. “I’m not royalty. I don’t even know who my parents were.”

Eryndor’s hand shot out, gripping Kael’s wrist with surprising strength. The mark flared brightly, and Kael gasped as visions flooded his mind. He saw a crumbling castle, its towers shrouded in mist. A woman wept over a broken throne, her tears falling like silver. And in the shadows, a figure laughed—a laugh that sent chills down his spine.

“The curse must be broken,” Eryndor said, his voice trembling. “Find the Eclipse Amulet before the next eclipse, or all is lost.”

Kael pulled away, his breath coming in short gasps. “I don’t understand. Why me? What does any of this have to do with me?”

Eryndor’s grip tightened. “The amulet can only be wielded by one of royal blood. You are the last descendant of the Lythorian line. If you do not act, the curse will consume what remains of the kingdom.”

Before Kael could respond, Eryndor’s body convulsed, and he collapsed to the ground. Kael knelt beside him, his hands trembling. “Hold on. I’ll get help.”

Eryndor shook his head weakly. “There is no time. They are coming.”

“Who’s coming?” Kael asked, but the man’s eyes had already closed, his chest falling still.

A low growl echoed through the forge, and Kael’s blood ran cold. He turned to see shadowy figures emerging from the darkness, their eyes glowing like embers. They moved with unnatural speed, their forms shifting and twisting as they approached.

Kael grabbed the sword he had been working on, its blade still unfinished but sharp enough to wield. He backed away, his heart pounding in his chest. The creatures lunged, and he swung the sword with all his strength, the blade cutting through the air with a satisfying *whoosh*. One of the shadows screeched as the sword connected, its form dissipating into smoke.

But there were too many of them. Kael knew he couldn’t fight them all. He turned and ran, bursting out of the forge and into the night. The village was eerily silent, the streets empty. He sprinted toward the forest, the shadows close on his heels.

As he reached the edge of the village, the sky darkened further. Kael looked up to see the moon sliding over the sun, casting the world into an eerie twilight. The mark on his wrist burned brighter than ever, and he felt a surge of energy coursing through his veins.

The forest loomed ahead, its trees twisted and gnarled. Kael didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he couldn’t stop. The creatures were still behind him, their growls growing louder.

As he ran, a voice echoed in his mind—a voice that was not his own. *"Find the amulet. Break the curse."*

Kael clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. He didn’t know what lay ahead, but he knew one thing for certain: his life would never be the same.

---

### **The Whispering Forest**

Kael ran until his lungs burned and his legs threatened to give out. The forest loomed around him, ancient trees towering like silent sentinels. Though the shadowy creatures pursuing him had faded, their presence lingered, a cold dread at the edge of his mind. He leaned against a tree, gasping for breath, and glanced at the glowing mark on his wrist—a crescent moon encircled by stars. Eryndor’s dying words echoed in his head: *"Find the Eclipse Amulet before the next eclipse, or all is lost."*

But how? He was just a blacksmith, not some hero from the old tales. He didn’t even know where to begin.

A rustling sound broke the silence. Kael spun around, gripping his unfinished sword. A figure stepped from the shadows—a woman with dark hair tied in a braid, her eyes sharp and calculating. She wore a leather vest lined with daggers, her movements fluid and predatory.

“You’re not very good at hiding,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “I could hear you crashing through the forest from a mile away.”

Kael lowered his sword slightly but kept his guard up. “Who are you?”

“Elara,” she replied, crossing her arms. “And you’re the one the Curseweaver’s hounds are after. Lucky for you, I don’t like them any more than you do.”

“The Curseweaver?” Kael asked, his brow furrowing. “Is that who sent those creatures?”

Elara raised an eyebrow. “You really don’t know anything, do you? The Curseweaver destroyed Lythoria a century ago. He’s been hunting anyone with royal blood ever since.”

Kael’s stomach churned. “I’m not royal. I’m just a blacksmith.”

Elara smirked. “Tell that to the mark on your wrist. It’s glowing, isn’t it? That means you’re one of the last descendants of the Lythorian line. And if the Curseweaver finds you, you’re dead.”

Kael clenched his fists. “What do you want from me?”

“I want to survive,” Elara said simply. “And right now, that means keeping you alive. The Curseweaver’s power is growing, and if he gets his hands on you, it’s over for all of us.”

Before Kael could respond, a low growl echoed through the trees. Elara’s expression hardened, and she drew her daggers. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

The shadowy creatures emerged from the darkness, their glowing eyes fixed on Kael. Elara moved like a whirlwind, her daggers slicing through the air with deadly precision. Kael swung his sword, the blade cutting through one of the creatures. It let out a piercing screech before dissolving into smoke.

“We can’t fight them all!” Kael shouted, dodging a swipe from another creature.

“Then we run!” Elara grabbed his arm and pulled him deeper into the forest. They sprinted through the trees, the creatures close behind. The forest seemed to come alive around them, branches twisting and reaching like skeletal hands.

As they ran, Kael noticed something strange. The mark on his wrist glowed brighter, and he felt a pull, as if the forest itself was guiding him. “This way!” he shouted, veering off the path.

Elara hesitated but followed. The trees grew denser, the air colder. The creatures’ growls faded, replaced by an eerie silence. Finally, they stumbled into a clearing dominated by a massive oak tree, its branches stretching toward the sky.

Kael stopped, breathless. “What is this place?”

Elara’s eyes widened. “The Heart of the Whispering Forest. Legends say it’s a place of ancient magic. But no one’s ever found it before.”

The mark on Kael’s wrist flared brightly, and the tree began to glow. A soft, melodic voice filled the air. *"You have come, as was foretold."*

Kael looked around but saw no one. “Who’s speaking?”

The voice continued, *"To break the curse, you must first prove your worth. The path ahead is fraught with peril, but the forest will guide you."*

Elara frowned. “Great. More riddles.”

Before Kael could respond, the ground trembled. Roots erupted from the soil, forming a narrow path leading deeper into the forest. The voice spoke again, *"Follow the path, and you will find what you seek."*

Kael exchanged a glance with Elara. “Do we have a choice?”

She shrugged. “Not really. Let’s go.”

They stepped onto the path, the roots shifting and groaning beneath their feet. The forest seemed to close in around them, the air thick with magic. Kael’s mark pulsed in time with his heartbeat, filling him with a strange determination. He didn’t know what lay ahead, but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t turn back now.