The Kingdom of Secrets and Ruin
Prologue

15 years ago

He remembered collecting the wood for the bonfire every turn of the moon without fail alongside his father. He always loved to spend some alone time with him in those quieter years.

Nights in the woods were spent filled with laughter and singing as they searched for branches large enough to stack together on the hill. All with the structure in mind that would be tall and high enough to be the beacon that it was meant to form.

It was an important task allocated to every landowner inside of their islands, never mind the King’s brother, and while his parents tried to make light of it by cooking dinners close by and sharing stories each time the rebuild was due; there was no denying that such a sight could become a matter of life and death in seconds.

So even after his father left, off to support the other islands of Eradeo in protecting their borders, he continued the ritual without fail. But never once did he stop and think what it would be like to actually see it burning.

To see the other fires trailing down their land and along the shore confirming their worst nightmares. Confirming that they had lost the fight and that it was the end of Writhage as they knew it.

At 13 years of age, these fires meant that his father, Lefwin was no more, that his uncle, King and namesake, Ruairi was a distant memory, and that his cousin, Cormac was a fragment of hope now lost.

Ruairi was now the Lord of Writhage and Heir to Eradeo, something he never expected and never wished to become, due to his cousin and heavily pregnant wife, Una.

But this had happened. This was real.

The realisation of what this all meant sent him running. His legs burned with use after a long day at sea but he pushed himself to move faster. To get home to his family.

It felt as if he were branded by the fires themselves, the message raging its way into his soul, screaming at how he had become the leader and protector for his mother and sister, despite being younger than both. How was he meant to tell them?

How was he meant to say that the war was done and that it was over in the worst possible way?

He couldn’t was his answer, because it wasn’t.

Not to him anyway and as far as he was concerned, the war had just begun.