Chapter 1
Chapter 1 — The Book That Shouldn't Exist
Rain hammered against the wooden roof.
Rian Veyne stared at the ceiling from his tiny bed.
Drip.
A drop of water landed directly on his forehead.
He didn't move.
Drip.
Another.
Rian slowly opened one eye.
He stared at the ceiling.
Then at the drop of water on his nose.
Then back at the ceiling.
“...Seriously?”
He reached beside his bed, grabbed the nearest cup, and placed it beneath the leak.
Drip.
Perfect.
Problem solved.
Rian closed his eyes again.
He had almost fallen asleep when—
Drip.
He opened one eye.
The cup was already half full.
Rian sighed.
“Tomorrow.”
He rolled over.
Whatever problem the roof had could become tomorrow's problem.
He had enough problems today.
His stomach growled.
Rian opened his eyes again.
“Traitor.”
He sat up.
His room was barely large enough for the bed, a wooden chair, and the small table beside the window. A single candle burned on the table, its flame trembling every time wind slipped through the cracks in the wall.
The room wasn't much.
Neither was his house.
Neither was his life.
But it was his.
And Rian had learned a long time ago that complaining about things you couldn't immediately change was a waste of energy.
He stood, pulled on his clothes, and walked toward the kitchen.
There was half a loaf of bread left.
Rian stared at it.
The bread stared back.
He picked it up.
“Breakfast.”
He broke off a piece.
“Lunch.”
Another piece.
“Dinner.”
He looked at what remained.
“...This is getting depressing.”
A loud knock interrupted him.
Rian froze.
Another knock.
Then another.
“RIAN!”
Rian closed his eyes.
Of course.
He walked to the door and opened it.
A boy about his age stood outside, soaked from the rain and breathing heavily.
“Rian!”
“You're wet.”
“I KNOW!”
“You're also loud.”
“THERE'S A FIRE!”
Rian stared at him.
His friend, Tomas, pointed toward the eastern side of the village.
“Near the eastern gate! Something caught fire!”
Rian looked in that direction.
A faint orange glow could be seen through the rain.
He looked back at Tomas.
“Is anyone hurt?”
“No!”
“Then why are you screaming?”
“Because there's a FIRE!”
“Yes, I heard you the first time.”
Tomas stared at him.
“You're supposed to panic.”
Rian shrugged.
“I'll panic after breakfast.”
“Rian!”
“What?”
“Come on!”
Tomas grabbed his arm.
Rian looked down at the hand.
Tomas immediately let go.
“Right. Sorry.”
“Good.”
Rian grabbed his coat.
As they ran toward the eastern gate, rain soaked them within seconds.
The village was already awake.
People were carrying buckets of water toward a burning storage building.
Someone shouted orders.
Someone else shouted that the roof might collapse.
A child was crying.
Rian moved through the crowd.
“Where's the water?”
“Over there!”
He grabbed a bucket.
Tomas grabbed another.
For the next twenty minutes, Rian worked alongside everyone else.
Bucket after bucket.
The fire slowly weakened.
Eventually, the flames disappeared beneath a cloud of steam and smoke.
Rian dropped his empty bucket.
His clothes were soaked.
His hair was dripping.
Tomas collapsed beside him.
“I hate rain.”
Rian looked at him.
“We live in a place where it rains constantly.”
“I know.”
“You've had fifteen years to figure that out.”
“I was hoping it would stop.”
Rian considered this.
“Brilliant strategy.”
Tomas frowned.
“You're annoying.”
“So I've been told.”
The village elder eventually arrived to inspect the damage.
Fortunately, nobody had been seriously injured.
The storage building was badly damaged, but the fire hadn't spread.
People began returning home.
Rian looked at the ruined building.
Something about the scene bothered him.
He couldn't explain why.
He had seen fires before.
But this one had started strangely.
The rain was heavy.
The building wasn't supposed to contain anything that could easily ignite.
And yet the flames had spread incredibly quickly.
Rian made a mental note to think about it later.
Then his stomach growled.
He immediately stopped thinking about it.
Food first.
Mysteries later.
By the time Rian reached home, the rain had become heavier.
He pushed open the door.
His house was dark.
He lit the candle again and placed it on the table.
The little flame illuminated the room.
Rian removed his wet coat and hung it beside the door.
Then he noticed something.
His cup was missing.
He looked toward his bed.
The cup was sitting exactly where he'd left it.
Except—
There was water everywhere.
The leak had gotten worse.
Rian stared at the ceiling.
A long crack had appeared across one of the wooden boards.
“...Fantastic.”
He dragged his chair beneath it and climbed up.
He poked the damaged section.
The wood creaked.
Rian immediately climbed down.
“Nope.”
He sat on the bed.
He looked at the roof.
Then at the cup.
Then at his remaining bread.
“Tomorrow.”
He took a bite.
That was when he noticed something beneath the bed.
A corner of black leather.
Rian stopped chewing.
He didn't remember putting anything there.
He crouched down and reached underneath.
His fingers touched something cold.
He pulled it out.
A book.
Rian frowned.
It was old.
Very old.
The cover was black leather, worn around the edges. There was no title.
Only a strange silver symbol engraved in the center.
It looked almost like a crown surrounded by several thin circles.
Rian turned it over.
Nothing.
No name.
No author.
No markings.
He opened the first page.
Blank.
The second page.
Blank.
The third—
Words.
Rian's eyes narrowed.
At the top of the page were four words.
THE FALL OF AURELIA
He stared at them.
Aurelia.
That was the name of his kingdom.
Rian sat down.
He turned the page.
The first chapter described the Kingdom of Aurelia.
Its capital.
Its royal family.
Its noble houses.
Its military.
Its cities.
Its history.
At first, Rian assumed it was some kind of history book.
But the further he read, the stranger it became.
The book described villages.
Roads.
Markets.
Minor nobles.
Even small events that most historians would never bother recording.
Rian turned another page.
Then another.
His expression slowly changed.
He recognized a place.
Veyra.
His village.
The book described the eastern gate.
The old storage buildings.
The market square.
Even the abandoned well near the northern road.
Rian stopped.
He read the paragraph again.
It was accurate.
Far too accurate.
He turned the page.
A description of a local merchant.
Another page.
A dispute between two farmers that had happened three years earlier.
Another.
A description of the village elder's house.
Rian slowly closed the book.
He stared at it.
“No.”
He opened it again.
Maybe he was imagining things.
Maybe someone had written the book recently.
Maybe it was some incredibly detailed local record.
That would explain it.
Except—
The book contained events that had happened today.
Rian's eyes moved rapidly across the pages.
There.
A paragraph near the middle.
His hands went still.
On the evening of the 17th day of the Rain Month, a fire will break out near the eastern gate of Veyra.
Rian looked toward the window.
He could still see the faint smoke rising above the village.
He looked back at the page.
His heartbeat quickened.
The fire had happened less than an hour ago.
He hadn't told anyone about it.
He turned the page.
The book continued.
The fire will be contained before midnight. No lives will be lost.
Rian's mouth went dry.
He checked the village clock.
11:42.
He stared at the book.
Then at the clock.
Then back at the book.
“...Eight minutes.”
He waited.
Nothing happened.
The clock slowly moved.
11:43.
11:44.
Rian didn't blink.
11:45.
Nothing.
11:46.
He finally laughed quietly.
“Okay.”
He rubbed his face.
“Maybe I'm tired.”
He closed the book.
Then—
CRACK.
A piece of wood fell from the ceiling.
Rian jumped.
He stared at it.
“...I hate this house.”
He picked up the fallen piece.
Then something caught his attention.
A loose page had appeared between the pages he'd been reading.
Rian hadn't noticed it before.
He pulled it out.
There was writing on both sides.
He began reading.
The book wasn't simply recording the past.
It was describing the future.
Wars.
Political conflicts.
Disasters.
The rise and fall of noble families.
Rian read faster.
His confusion slowly turned into disbelief.
The dates continued years into the future.
Then decades.
The further he read, the darker the story became.
The Kingdom of Aurelia would eventually enter a devastating war.
Its northern territories would fall.
The royal family would fracture.
Nobles would betray one another.
Cities would burn.
And eventually—
The kingdom would collapse.
Rian stopped.
He turned to the final chapter.
The title was simple.
THE LAST KING
He read the first paragraph.
Then the second.
Then the third.
His expression became completely blank.
The book explained who would eventually sit on Aurelia's throne.
The identity of the person who would unite the kingdom.
The person who would end the war.
The person who would become known throughout history as the final king of Aurelia.
Rian continued reading.
Then he reached a name.
His eyes widened.
Rian Veyne.
He stared at it.
For several seconds, he didn't move.
Then he laughed once.
It wasn't a happy laugh.
It was the kind of laugh someone made when reality had become too ridiculous to take seriously.
“That's not funny.”
He continued reading.
The book described Rian's childhood.
Except—
It wasn't the childhood he remembered.
According to the book, Rian had been born fifteen years ago in the royal palace.
He was the youngest son of King Aldric Veyne.
The kingdom's lost prince.
A child who had disappeared during a royal assassination attempt.
Everyone believed the prince had died.
But he hadn't.
Someone had secretly taken him away.
Someone had hidden him.
Someone had erased his identity.
And somehow—
That child had grown up in this village.
Rian slowly touched his own face.
Then his hair.
Then his left ear.
A small scar rested beneath it.
The book mentioned that too.
His eyes moved to the final pages.
His hands began trembling.
Not because he was afraid.
Because the story was getting worse.
The book described the future Rian.
A prince returning to the kingdom.
A man rising through war and political chaos.
A king who would eventually gain unimaginable power.
And then—
A king who would destroy the very kingdom he had fought to save.
Rian's eyes stopped at the final paragraph.
He read it once.
Then again.
Then a third time.
The final sentence was waiting for him.
“The Lost Prince is still alive.”
Rian closed the book.
Silence filled the room.
Rain continued beating against the roof.
The candle flickered.
Rian sat completely still.
For the first time that night, he didn't have a sarcastic comment.
He didn't have a joke.
He didn't have a plan.
He simply stared at the black cover.
Then, after several seconds, he finally spoke.
“...Well.”
He looked at the leaking roof.
“That's inconvenient.”
