It’s set in this place called the Quarter Realms, which is separated into four main kingdoms, Fiern (pronounced Fee-urn), Roric, Bryjair (pronounced Bri-yair) and Uscat (pronounced oo-scaht).
Each realm is ran by a different family. The Ignatius family, of dragon descent, hails over Fiern. The Arroyo family, of siren descent, reside over Roric. The casters, otherwise known as the Bavmorda family, control Bryjair. The Terra family, the Fae, rule Uscat.
An old curse set upon the Quarter Realms calls for a son or daughter from each family to be chosen to fight in what is called Calduron’s Ring. The rules are simple: three lives have to be lost.
One victor emerges, and all will be right in the Realms for another decade.
Chosen to represent the Ignatius family is only son Veron. From House Arroyo is eldest daughter Bay. Fighting for the Bavmordas is forgotten son Orion. Dueling for Terra is Cicada.
These young royals have to train side by side each other for six months before they’re set out to kill each other in the ring. Only here’s the thing - they don’t want to fight, not really. They want to break Calduron’s Curse.
Over the course of six grueling months - friendship is made, blood is shed, and true faces are revealed.
Hey guys! As some of you know from my Marvel writing blog [@bookybuns], I’ve written a book! It’s an idea that stemmed from high school, so therefore it is under heavy editing. I’m going to be posting this book on Patreon as I start to edit and rehash chapters and fix this mess, and I’m going to post the first chapter here to give you a little taste of what you would be getting if you did become a patron of mine! Without further ado, though, here is the very first chapter of And When the Kingdoms Burn, written by yours truly. I sincerely hope you enjoy it, and feedback is appreciated!
[this entire first chapter is supposed to be about how all four of them are picked, but i just gave you a glimpse, but not all, of orion’s]
BAVMORDA
glossary: mus - latin for mouse
ORION paces the length of the Great Hall restlessly, the air around him an anxious, buzzing cloud of electricity. His heart thrashes against his rib cage, hands sweaty with dread as he tugs relentlessly at his short, dark curls over and over again.
“Mus,” Orion looks up at the uttered, furiously loathed nickname, narrowing his eyes at the eldest of his motley siblings. Jory lies tranquilly on one of the benches, brandy-colored eyes trained on his younger brother in contempt. His slow, heavy voice is laden with annoyance as he commands, “Get’a hold of y’self.”
He sounds so much like their mother, ignorant Castiliian accent and all, that Orion couldn’t help but cringe. Nonetheless, he starts traipsing aimlessly around the room again, trying to quell the fear threatening to suffocate him.
“This room is buzzin’ with yer magic, makin’ my hair stand up.” Jory raises an arm to emphasize. “You’re gonna drive Lena up the wall, and she’s gonna light us all up.”
Orion peaks a glance at his twin sister, noting the white-knuckled grip she had on the bench. Her head is down, nearly between her knees, a shock of white, wild curls obscuring her face. Sitting there silently, she looks like a frail little girl rather than the tumultuous storm the Bavmorda boys knew she could be.
“Sorry, brother.” Orion takes slow, deep breaths, letting his emotions simmer into something manageable. Her shoulders slacken as he settles, and Jory nods from his spot approvingly.
“Keep it tha’ way, mus.” Jory tells him softly, running a hand through his blonde locks. “Y’know what happens when she gets riled up.”
Things burn to ashes and dust, Orion thinks absentmindedly. Lena winces in response.
A quiet scoff sounds from above. Orion looks up to find the last member of their little unit idling in the air, the air around him shimmering slightly as he picks at the peeling edges of emerald paint on the banister. Westick peers down at his siblings with contempt shining in his eyes, one brilliant blue, one filled with broken constellations.
“If she can’t handle it,” Westick sneers out, “Then, she needs to leave. Her company is unwanted if all that’s going to happen in her presence is destruction.”
Lena raises her head slowly, crimson eyes holding nothing but rage. Westick smiles mockingly, baring his teeth in a sickly sweet manner that looks out of place on his stoic, haughty face. “I’m just telling the truth, Marlena. Pressure is certainly not your forte.”
Orion sees the ghost of a smirk curl at her lips right before the edge of Westick’s pants catches fire. He lets out a high-pitched squeak, batting at his clothes madly. Lena smothers a giggle, smiling bright as Westick glares.
“You should know not to antagonize her.” Orion shrugs. “It’s what you deserve.”
“Shut your mouth, mus.” Westick snaps, voice a rumbling, angry growl. “No one asked for your input.”
“Settle down, boys.” All four Bavmorda children look up to find their father, the all-knowing Devyn Bavmorda, standing before them in all his aging glory, cane supporting his plump, heavy form. His councilmen, his knights of the round table, stand behind him, somberness painting their expressions.
Fear starts to creep back up Orion’s spine as he straightens, fighting the urge to kneel submissively at his father’s feet. Jory and Lena slowly stand as Westick hits the ground with an inaudible thud, landing on his feet with feline grace.
“You have come to a consensus.” Westick notes.
Devyn nods once, eyeing each child in turn before his gaze ultimately lands on Orion. His heart plummets to his feet, stomach churning.
“No,” Orion whispers. “I can’t.”
A small, dainty hand grabs his. “The Gods have spoken, mus.”
Orion shakes his head almost violently, and only then does he fall at his father’s feet, trembling fingers clutching at his simple tunic. “I’ll die!” Orion cries out. “You know I won’t survive the Ring!
“Y’know he’s not a fighter.” Jory says. He sounds sad.
“He’s not like the rest of us.” Lena adds.
Orion does nothing to stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks as he rises shakily, not daring to look at his father as the man places a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Orion Teller Bavmorda, you are to fight in Calduron’s Ring.” Devyn’s voice is emotionless, too formal for a man sacrificing his youngest son to a blood bath. “You are to make this family proud.”
i’ve recently made a separate writing blog for all my non-fanfiction, original writing and it would absolutely mean the world to me if you followed! it’s @thelordmontrose [and should have something posted as soon as i can]
alos: i’ve created a patreon where i’m going to be posting [after heavy, heavy editing] a book i’ve written called And When the Kingdoms Burn and [you don’t have to, but it would be great] of you guys would become my patrons! i’m editing chapter by chapter and will be post them as i go along! my patreon can be found here: https://www.patreon.com/lordmontrose
Veron despises the fact that, one day, he will have to take his place on the throne. Fiern was a barren wasteland at best, everything burned to ashes and dust.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, watching the way he seems to close off from the world completely. The light in his eyes suddenly goes dark; it’s as if he’s transformed into an entirely new being, his lively soul abandoning its place at the helm of his personality.
