The Forgotten Kingdom: The Last Mage
In the heart of the Ethera, a realm veiled by beauty yet shrouded in mystery, there lay a forgotten kingdom named Lyria. Lyria, unknown to many, was a kingdom where magic had its life source. But as the pages of time turned, so did the kingdom's prosperous past, leaving nothing but folklore to be shared in whispers across neighboring realms.
In Lyria, magic was everything - a farmer used it to grow crops, a blacksmith to forge, even a baker to bake. But a prophecy had foretold the extinction of magic, resulting in a fading kingdom, and vanishing hopes.
Only the 'Last Mage' could prevent this impending doom who was destined to be born in the heart of the Ethera, a realm beyond the reach of ordinary beings. And after many centuries of gloom, the kingdom could finally feel a new hope, a new life. For there arrived a child, born under the Ethera's strongest moon, with a mark of the glowing crescent on his forehead.
His name was Ethen.
Ethen, the child of prophecy, the last hope of Lyria, the last mage. Born with unparalleled powers, his awakening was celebrated across the realm, a beacon of hope for the dying land.
Ethen’s childhood was far from ordinary. He was raised under the constant guidance of Lyria's chief mage, Elarin, who tutored him in the old ways of magic, its creation, and destruction. Despite being only a child, Ethen's grasp on magical concepts and his devastatingly raw power even astounded Elarin, a mage who had seen many winters.
As Ethen matured, so did his abilities. The realms whispered his tales and waited expectantly for the destined day when the last mage would finally rescue them from the prophecy's outcome.
On a fateful day, as ebon clouds coalesced in the heavens, signaling the advent of the prophesied calamity, Ethen stood firm, ready to face the doom with all his might. He mustered his will, armed himself with spells, and fought the impending darkness with every pore of his being.
Continents away, people could see the sky light up, an electric spectacle kaleidoscopic with the sparks of a furious battle. The ground shivered as magic coursed through the realm. Each flare in the sky, each tremor that shook the earth echoed one name - Ethen.
In the heart of Ethera, Ethen fought valiantly. Against all odds, with his fading strength, Ethen cast his final, most potent spell, unleashing an unimaginable force that washed over the kingdoms. The lingering darkness evaporated, leaving behind only the brilliant purity of magic.
Every blade of grass, every whispering wind, every quaint speck of dust radiated magical energy. It was done. Magic was restored. But as the bright glow of magic dimmed, so did Ethen. Using the last ounce of his fervor, he had rejuvenated Lyria. But the enormous energy drained out of him, leaving his body lifeless.
Ethen’s sacrifice became the beacon of hope, remembered in folklore. He became the symbol of courage, a legend, the eternal hero of Ethera, remembered in every heartbeat, in every gust of wind, in the magic that now flowed like rivers in the kingdom.
The prophecy had come true. The last mage had indeed eradicated the impending darkness, restoring magic to its rightful place. But the price? It was his young life. A price he paid willingly, leaving behind a legacy that reverberated throughout the realms. An ultimate symbol of sacrificial love for his kingdom, his people, and magic.
His name was Ethen, a mere boy, yet the greatest mage Ethera had ever witnessed.