the spark

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Chapter I: The Spark

It began with whispers. Rumors of border skirmishes between Virelia and its northern neighbor, Droskar, a militant realm forged in iron and pride. Virelian merchants returned with tales of harassment and looting, and one winter, a trade caravan was found burnt to ashes near the Larethian pass.

King Alarion of Virelia sought dialogue, but his envoys returned in coffins.

The Virelian Council debated furiously. The younger nobles, hungry for glory, demanded retaliation. The older lords, who had seen war, urged caution. But when Droskar crossed the border and seized the fortified town of Redmere, there was no longer a choice.

War was declared.

Chapter II: The Flames

For three years, the war scorched the land. The golden fields turned red with blood. Forests were razed to build siege engines. Rivers choked on the corpses of the fallen.

General Tharos, once a poet in his youth, now led Virelia’s armies. He once wrote of the wind in the barley and the laughter of children. Now, he gave orders that led men to their deaths, and his poetry ceased.

On the Droskari side, Commander Veyna, a brilliant tactician raised in the militarized academies of the north, saw the war as a chess game. Her strategies were flawless, yet each victory left her hollow.

Civilians suffered most. Villages were reduced to rubble. Families fled as refugees, only to be turned away by their neighbors. The bond of humanity weakened.

Yet amidst this ruin, sparks of peace persisted.

In the ruins of Redmere, an orphaned Virelian boy and a wounded Droskari scout found shelter in the same collapsed chapel. They should have been enemies. But hunger makes strange allies. They shared food, built a fire, and watched the snow fall.

They were just two among many—hidden stories of compassion buried beneath the grand narrative of war.

Chapter III: The Reckoning

The turning point came during the Siege of Virelon, Virelia’s capital. Starving, besieged, and betrayed by one of their own nobles, the city faced annihilation.

But something changed.

In the Droskari war council, Veyna stood and declared she would not burn another city. “We came to punish injustice,” she said. “But now we have become the very thing we swore to destroy.”

Her words ignited revolt among her own ranks. War-weary and guilt-ridden, many soldiers refused to fight. The Droskari king, seeing the growing unrest, was forced to agree to a ceasefire.

The Peace of Larethia was signed beneath the ancient oak where the two kingdoms’ borders met.

Chapter IV: The Scars and the Seeds

Peace did not come easily. The land bore deep scars. Thousands of graves dotted the countryside. Families mourned, economies collapsed, trust was shattered.

But Veyna and Tharos, now diplomats, worked tirelessly to rebuild. The chapel in Redmere was restored, turned into a sanctuary for war orphans from both sides.

Years passed. Crops grew again. Children laughed in the streets. A new generation was taught not only the history of war—but the value of peace.

At the first spring festival after the war, King Alarion said:

“We were broken, but we chose to heal. Let us never forget: peace is not a gift. It is a garden we must tend every day.”

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