Since the dawn of the tension between the kingdoms, Aether had known that its light alone would not be enough to contain the growing shadow of End. The ethereal kingdom, suspended among eternal clouds and luminous crystals, lived under the constant threat of a conflict that could drown its crystal towers into the abyss. And so, the Queen, in her calculated wisdom, decided to offer what she valued most: blood of her own blood.
Egg was the fourth of her children, still only a child when the decision was made. Not the strongest, nor the brightest, but he possessed something rare that made him suitable for sacrifice: an almost tangible purity, a soul that seemed untouched by the corruption of the world. The Queen chose him personally, without hesitation. That night, the curtains of the royal chambers were drawn shut, and Egg’s fate was sealed in silence.
From that day onward, the young prince was prepared. Rigorous training shaped both his body and mind to endure the unknown. Severe instructors taught him combat arts, diplomatic protocol, physical and mental endurance, ancient languages, and forgotten rituals. Rumors spread quietly through the palace halls: would he be killed as an offering? Would his body be used in some ritual of alliance? Would he serve as a consort… a slave? Egg never asked. He simply obeyed, with a calmness that unsettled even the most experienced among them.
Even under constant watch, he found ways to escape into the Great Library of Aether. Among towering stacks of ancient tomes and floating memory crystals, Egg consumed knowledge endlessly. He read about the dark customs of End, about the creatures inhabiting its shadowed lands, about the ancient gods that demanded tributes of flesh and soul. He read until his eyes burned, trying to understand what awaited him. His purity remained untouched, almost like an invisible armor, but his mind became sharper and increasingly curious.
The years passed like mist over the ethereal mountains. Egg grew in silence, transforming from a frightened child into a young man of otherworldly beauty: pale skin, white hair like clouds, and eyes carrying both innocence and an abyss of accumulated knowledge. At twenty-one human years of age — the point at which the ritual would become irreversible — the entire kingdom mobilized.
The preparations were both grand and mournful. Banquets were held not in celebration, but in farewell. Ceremonial garments were woven from threads of pure light and celestial gold, tailored to emphasize his slender and delicate figure. Rare perfumes were brushed onto his skin, sacred oils anointed his body, and protective symbols were painted across his back and wrists. The palace gleamed beneath floating lanterns, and the court arrived dressed in soft shades of white and gold.
Egg walked among them with his head held high, his gaze distant. No one truly knew what awaited him beyond the shadowed border. Would he be received as a royal gift, a slave, a forced spouse, or a sacrifice meant to be consumed? The only certainty was that, at the rise of the next eclipse, he would be delivered to the Kingdom of Wemmbu.
And so, on the eve of his offering, the young man with the pure soul stood before the portal to The End, watching its dark surface in silence. So, without looking back, he went inside.
I hope the translation is correct; English is not my first language.
