Iven was not a villain born.He was a child — abandoned in the cold, echoing halls of forgotten palaces, where the weight of silence was broken only by the whispers of those who had forsaken him.His cradle had not been made of soft blankets or loving arms, but of stone and shadow. His mother's lullaby was a lie.The walls of the castle, once grand, now stood as empty monuments to forgotten power, their windows long sealed against the sunlight.
From the moment he could understand words, he was told one thing above all else: Kael had stolen everything.
Kael, the man who refused the gods and crowns, the man who defied fate itself, was painted as the villain in Iven's world.The gods had whispered this tale, their voices carried on the winds that swept through Iven's chambers. They spun it again and again, until he believed every word.They told him that Kael had robbed him of his destiny, stolen the future that had been promised to him from the moment he was born.
And so, from the first breath of hate that filled Iven's lungs, there was no room for anything else.The gods' whispers grew into the only truth he knew.
While Kael learned mercy, the art of forgiveness woven into his very soul, Iven was raised to know only one thing: vengeance.Where Kael learned the delicate balance of peace, Iven was shaped into a weapon, sharpened and honed until he could feel the sting of a blade in every heartbeat.Kael built peace from the broken ruins of kingdoms.Iven was forged in those same ruins, not to heal, but to shatter.
In the chambers where Iven was molded, there was no room for love.There was no tenderness in the hands that fed him — only cold truths, harsh lessons, and sharpened edges.His heart, once soft as any child's, was turned into something far darker — a machine, a blade, a thing built for one purpose alone:To destroy the one who had dared to defy the gods.
In secret gatherings, hidden from the eyes of those who still held power in the world, old lords whispered of the growing threat that Kael had become.Kael, who had defied their divine offers, who had turned his back on thrones and immortality, was now a force too great to ignore.
"If Kael refuses the crown," the lords murmured in hushed voices, their faces shadowed by the flickering light of candle flames, "then let us crown his destruction."
They spoke of Iven, their whispers eager, hungry.For in the dark, they saw a weapon, a man who had been shaped by their own hands, ready to carry out what they had only dared to dream.And Iven, standing in the corner of their gathering, the last piece of their careful design, spoke his answer with a voice so cold it could have frozen the air around him.His words held no love, no hate — only a terrible, singular purpose.
"I will end him."
The words were not spoken with passion.They were not a vow, nor a curse, nor a cry of vengeance.They were a simple truth.A declaration.A promise.
For Iven had been forged for one purpose alone:To end Kael.
And so it was that he set forth on his path — not as a villain, not as a hero, but as a tool.A tool made by hands that never saw him as anything more than an instrument of their will.
They had shaped him carefully, from the very first breath he took. They had taught him everything he needed to know about power, about domination, about destruction.They had taught him that the world was nothing but a game, and those who ruled it were the pieces that moved across the board.And Kael, the one who refused to play, was the greatest threat to their game.
Iven's heart, once a vessel of innocence, had long since been consumed by the fire of hatred.But there were still moments when he could feel the smallest spark of something else — something buried deep within him, beneath the years of manipulation and pain.
There were moments when he wondered if he could have been something different.But those moments were fleeting, drowned by the overwhelming certainty that he had been made for this.
Kael had stood before the gods and refused to bow, refused to take the throne.Iven had been raised to do the opposite.He had been taught that the throne, the power, was his by right.It was his destiny.
Now, Kael's refusal had set them on a collision course — two men, forged by different hands, shaped by different worlds, but bound to meet in the end.Iven would seek Kael not out of hatred, but out of the terrible understanding that he had been made to be Kael's end.That was his purpose, and it would be fulfilled.
And so the story unfolded.Kael, the Crownless One, who had defied the gods.Iven, the Blade of Hatred, who had been born to destroy.
The gods watched with eager eyes, their fates bound to the outcome of this war between light and dark, between mercy and vengeance.But neither Kael nor Iven knew what would come of their meeting.
For Kael had walked away from the gods and their power, choosing mortality, choosing today.Iven, on the other hand, had been forged by the gods themselves, bound to a future that could not be undone.
And so they would meet — not as enemies, not as friends, but as opposites, as reflections of the very forces that shaped the world.
One man, born of light and mercy.The other, born of darkness and vengeance.Both bound by fate.
And in their clash, the world would tremble.