The Hollow Crown

The grimoire made itself known on the first night of the Frost Moon of the year 428 F.T. speaking of a prophecy that kept all of Flyke on their toes. The prophecy rang out throughout the kingdom, despite the king's fervent rejections.

“I am the grimoire of royals gone past,

This life you lead will never last.

Once in a century's turning time,

A savior is born when the bells all chime.

Mark well the bells when silver sings,

For fate arrives on quiet wings.

Take caution, my king, and heed this plea,

For not all heroes are what they seem to be.

A hand of iron, a hand set free,

One shapes a crown, one breaks a dynasty.

Choose control or choose release.

A century will turn within a blink.

One path brings war, the other peace.

This hero is not what you think."

Silence fell across the Kingdom of Flyke. For a moment nobody moved, nobody breathed. Then the chaos ensued and people surged towards the castle gates, demanding answers.

“OUR SCOLARS ARE LOOKING INTO IT NOW! PLEASE DON'T PANIC, ITS BEING TAKEN CARE OF.” a voice announces from the balcony of the royal castle, startling those banging on the gate.

With nobody comforted by that fact, a riot broke out. The king, understanding the people's fear, came to address them personally. When he got to the balcony, the crowd started to quiet down.

"People of Flyke."

The king raised a hand, and slowly the crowd quieted.

"I know you are frightened. I know you seek answers."

"I stand before you not only as your king, but as a father, a husband, and a citizen of this kingdom. The prophecy revealed tonight concerns us all."

"At this time, we know no more than you do. My scholars are already working to decipher every word the grimoire has spoken, and they will continue their efforts until answers are found."

He paused, allowing his gaze to sweep across the crowd.

"Until then, I ask only one thing of you."

"Trust me."

"For generations, the crown has protected Flyke through hardship and uncertainty. We will do so again."

"Whatever this prophecy may mean, I promise you this: we will keep our people safe.”

The people stared up in awe. Clapping starts rippling through the crowd. As the riot eventually dispersed, the king was inside the castle pacing when one of the scholars walked in.

“What do we know so far?” The king demands.

“Well your majesty, practically nothing. The grimoire holds the prophecy and some spells, and a few blank pages.” They say, lowering their heads.

“Leave. Now.” The king borderline growls out.

The scholar hurriedly runs out of the throne room.

“Dont you think you were a bit harsh on him sir?” His adviser says, cautiously.

“Bring me the grimoire.”

The adviser hesitated.

"Your Majesty?"

King Aldric's eyes narrowed.

"If fate believes it can dictate my future..."

He turned toward the throne room doors.

"Then fate has made a grave mistake.”

He walks out without another word. Entering his bed chambers, he takes out a notebook and starts writing down what he knows.

“01, Frost Moon, 428 F.T.

The grimoire speaks of a hero, though it claims they shall not arrive for another century. I take some comfort in knowing this burden will not fall upon my generation.

Yet I find little peace in that thought.

The prophecy warns of one who shall break a dynasty. A century may separate us from this hero, but a hundred years pass quickly in the life of a kingdom.

A broken dynasty is not merely the fall of a king. It is the collapse of order itself.

The grimoire speaks of peace, though I find little comfort in such promises.

If this hero is destined to come, then they may one day threaten all that the crown has built.

I pray I am mistaken.

Yet I fear the grimoire speaks true.”

-King Aldric Octiblue

King Aldric goes to the fae king for support. Arriving at the fae border, he immediately feels the power radiating off of the trees. He holds his hand up to signal his men to stop.

“Im going in alone.” He states.

“Your Majesty! I can't allow that!” The adviser exclaims.

“I am the king. I do what I want.” He states matter of factly before going into the forest leaving his adviser there mouth agape.

Walking through the forest was like stepping into a dream. The outer woods were quiet and still, almost asleep, but the deeper he traveled, the stranger the world became.

Silver-barked trees towered overhead, their branches weaving together to form a glowing canopy of moonlight and stars. Moonblossoms drifted lazily through the air, while luminous moss clung to ancient trunks like scattered constellations. Crystal streams wound through the roots of the forest, reflecting the night sky so perfectly that it became difficult to tell where the heavens ended and the earth began.

And everywhere came the whispers.

Soft. Countless. Unseen.

The wind carried them through the trees like distant voices speaking a forgotten language. The forest felt alive—not hostile, nor welcoming, but aware. As though it had noticed his presence and was deciding what to make of him.

When he finally reached what felt like the center of the forest, he spoke.

“My name is King Aldric Octiblue of Flyke. I demand an audience with your king, fae!”

A silent rustling swept through the trees, like it was laughing at him. As time felt like it was slowing down, a voice came from the north.

“Follow the fireflies,” said the ominous voice.

King Aldric looked towards the voice and saw a trail of fireflies leading into the dark forest.

The forest eventually opened into a sight unlike anything he had ever seen.

Massive ancient trees stretched toward the heavens, their trunks so wide that entire neighborhoods had been carved into them. Homes spiraled around the trees in graceful layers, their warm golden windows glowing like stars against the bark.

Wooden bridges swayed gently between branches, connecting hundreds of treehouses suspended high above the forest floor. Some homes were nestled within the trunks themselves, while others rested upon enormous branches, their curved roofs covered in moss, flowers, and climbing vines.

Lanterns hung everywhere.

Thousands of them.

Golden lights drifted between the trees like captive fireflies, illuminating winding staircases that curled around the trunks and disappearing into the canopy above. Laughter echoed through the village as fae darted across rope bridges and balconies suspended impossibly high in the air.

Beneath it all, the forest thrived untouched. Crystal streams wound between roots thicker than castle walls, while moonblossoms and glowing moss bathed the undergrowth in silver and gold.

It was less a village and more a living part of the forest itself—as though the trees had dreamed of becoming a city and the fae had simply helped bring that dream to life.

At the center of the village stood the Heart Tree.

Ancient beyond measure, its colossal trunk rose from the forest floor and disappeared into the clouds above. The entire city seemed to have grown around it. Hundreds of bridges stretched from neighboring trees to its branches, while winding staircases wrapped around the trunk like vines.

Homes, marketplaces, gardens, libraries, and gathering halls had been built directly into the tree over countless generations. Warm golden lanterns illuminated every level, transforming the giant into a pillar of light that stretched from the roots below to the highest reaches of the canopy.

Unlike the surrounding homes, the King's Tree did not begin among the branches. Its roots formed the foundation of the city itself. From the bustling markets at its base to the royal halls near its crown, the tree connected every corner of the fae kingdom.

Looking upon it, one could understand why the fae called it the Heart Tree.

The city did not merely surround it.

The city lived because of it. Its ancient roots reached far beyond the village, feeding life and old magic into every corner of the forest.

“Wow..” King Aldric said, almost breathlessly.

“King Aldric?” Said a voice behind him.

Turns around, sees the guy behind him, nodding.

“My name is Lùmor Ruthor. I'm the fae king's aid. Follow me please.”

Following Lùmor to the giant tree down the center of town was amazing. Food stalls looked to be floating around, almost like stars scattering the sky. The smell was enticing. Between the sweet pungent smell of the pineapple skewers, the mouth drooling BBQ pops, or the sweet chocolate dipped strawberry tower, it was hard to look at just one set of something. Fae scattered once they saw the king coming, some giving him dirty looks while others were just curious.

The massive entrance stood open at the base of the Heart Tree, framed by roots thicker than castle towers. Vines twisted around the archway in intricate patterns, their leaves glowing faintly with ancient magic.

As he stepped inside, the sounds of the city faded behind him.

The interior of the tree was vast.

Far larger than should have been possible.

The trunk had been hollowed by time and carefully shaped by generations of fae, creating a towering chamber that stretched high above into darkness. Massive roots curved along the walls like natural pillars, supporting balconies, walkways, and platforms carved directly into the living wood.

Soft golden lanterns hung from twisting branches overhead, casting a warm glow throughout the chamber. Patches of luminous moss covered the walls, bathing the ancient wood in shades of emerald and gold. The air smelled of earth, rain, and blooming flowers.

A winding path of polished roots led deeper into the Heart Tree.

At the center of the chamber stood the throne room.

The room itself seemed less constructed and more grown. Ancient roots rose from the floor and intertwined along the walls, forming elegant arches that stretched toward the ceiling. Glowing vines draped from above like curtains woven from starlight.

Upon a raised platform sat the throne.

It was not crafted from wood.

It was the tree itself.

Massive roots twisted together to form an elegant seat, their bark polished smooth by centuries of use. Behind it, the Heart Tree had shaped itself into a towering backdrop of intertwined roots and branches that resembled a crown.

Tiny motes of light drifted lazily through the chamber like wandering stars.

The entire room felt alive.

Watching.

Listening.

Waiting.

This was not merely the throne of a king.

It was the heart of the forest itself.

On the throne was a young looking fae.

“Glory to the heart tree, whose roots remain strong.” Lùmor said, bowing slightly at the waist.

The young-looking fae upon the throne raised a hand, dismissing Lùmor from the chamber.

"King Aldric of Flyke," he said. "I am Fae King Romen Lùmeth. I am told you made quite the entrance."

"I have little patience for riddles and hidden paths," Aldric replied. "I came to discuss a matter of great importance."

"So I have heard."

Romen studied the human king for a moment.

"Speak."

Aldric withdrew a sealed scroll from his cloak.

"A grimoire belonging to my royal line awoke this night. It spoke of a prophecy."

Romen accepted the scroll but did not open it.

"And what concern is that of the Fae?"

"It is a human prophecy," Aldric admitted. "One that speaks of a hero born a century from now. A hero that may bring about the fall of my dynasty."

Romen rested the scroll on one of the living roots beside his throne.

"Then I fail to see why my people should fear it."

"They should not."

The answer surprised even the guards.

"They should, however, understand that the stability of Flyke affects us all."

A faint smile touched Romen's lips.

"Does it?"

Aldric ignored the remark.

"The grimoire contains little else. My scholars cannot decipher its deeper meaning."

"And so you seek our knowledge."

"I seek your cooperation."

Romen nodded once.

"Very well. Leave the scroll. My elders will examine it and, should they find anything of value, word will be sent to your court."

Aldric frowned.

"That will not be necessary."

The smile vanished from Romen's face.

"My scholars will continue their work in Flyke. Your elders should accompany them."

Silence settled over the chamber.

"The elders do not leave the Heart Tree," Romen said calmly, “as long as its roots remain strong, so does the forest that shelters our people.”

"Then they shall make an exception."

"No."

Aldric blinked.

"No?"

"The Fae do not abandon their homes because another ruler demands it."

"I do not demand it."

Romen raised an eyebrow.

"You walked into my kingdom and informed me that my elders would be leaving with you."

"I offered protection."

"My people require none."

Aldric's expression hardened.

"There are powers in this world too dangerous to leave unchecked."

"There are."

The two kings held each other's gaze.

Romen spoke quietly.

"And there are powers that were never meant to kneel."

For the first time since entering the Heart Tree, Aldric's composure slipped.

"You would refuse an alliance over pride?"

Romen almost laughed.

"You ask me to uproot my kingdom, place my people beneath another crown, and surrender our oldest knowledge into your keeping."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"I do not believe this is about a prophecy."

Aldric said nothing.

Romen continued.

"I believe there is something you fear."

The chamber was perfectly still.

The guards watched in confusion.

Neither king looked away.

At last Aldric spoke.

"There can be no divided strength if Flyke is to endure."

Romen nodded slowly.

"There it is."

"You would rather hide in these woods than secure the future."

"I would rather my people remain free."

The words struck harder than any insult.

Aldric took a step forward.

"You speak as though I would harm them."

"I speak as though I know why you came."

Another long silence passed.

Finally, Romen stood.

"The Fae will study your prophecy in our own time."

"The Fae will remain beneath the Heart Tree."

"And the Fae will not place themselves under the authority of any foreign throne."

Aldric's jaw tightened.

"You made a grave mistake."

"Perhaps."

Romen looked toward the guards.

"Escort our guests to the edge of the forest."

One of the guards rested a hand upon his weapon.

Romen's voice cut through the chamber.

"No."

The guard stepped back.

"He entered these halls in peace."

"The laws of the Heart Tree forbid the shedding of a guest's blood."

Romen looked back to Aldric.

"Leave this place, King Aldric."

Aldric's face had gone red with anger.

"You would cast me out?"

"I would send you home."

"You will regret this."

Romen's expression softened, almost sadly.

"If I were the sort of king you believe me to be..."

He glanced toward the ancient branches above.

"...you would never leave this tree."

The guards stepped forward.

Aldric allowed himself to be escorted away, but he did not bow.

As the great doors of the Heart Tree closed behind him, his final words echoed through the chamber.

"The Fae have forgotten their place."

Romen watched the doors for a long while.

Then he looked toward the unopened scroll.

"No," he whispered.

"I believe humanity has."