Chapter Text
The Kingdom of Giralda once thrived, a pearl nestled in the Western Isle of Erythea, where winds whispered ancient stories through the tall, shadowy trees, and the sea carried the rhythm of time itself. Legends spoke of its breathtaking castles that kissed the sky, its people who danced to the songs of the waves, and its rulers, who governed with a power both feared and revered. Yet, beneath the beauty and grandeur, a shadow lingered—one that had been whispered about for generations, a curse that was bound to the blood of its rulers.
But legends, as they often do, turned into myth.
Now, only fragments of its existence remain, mere whispers on the wind—faint echoes of a kingdom swallowed by the sea and time. Giralda’s disappearance from the annals of history is recounted in hushed tones, for those who dare to dig into its fate are met with silence, or worse, the weight of an unspeakable curse.
Scholars who once dared to ask what happened to Giralda now lie buried in forgotten graves, their findings burned, their lips sewn by invisible forces. It is said that on the night the kingdom vanished, the sky bled as the stars fell from their places, and the sea raged against the shores, consuming the land in a storm of darkness and despair. Its collapse followed the failed royal wedding, a match destined to unite Giralda with the powerful kingdom of Alcázar.
A tragic fall of the royal family loomed over the entire kingdom, and while historians today find no mention of Giralda in their texts, those with the gift of sight still speak of the royal family’s curse. Some say the King himself invoked dark powers in his grief, others say it was the Queen who sought to bind the kingdom with magic after the love of her life abandoned her.
Whatever the truth, Giralda was swallowed by shadows, leaving only the faintest marks in history. Travelers speak of finding ruins—crumbling towers hidden in mist, forgotten roads overgrown with weeds that lead to nowhere. Yet in these places, a stillness lingers. A silence that speaks volumes for those who know how to listen.
A Kingdom Lost, as it came to be called, now lives only in the hearts of those brave enough to remember. Or, perhaps, foolish enough.
For the kingdom’s fall was no accident. And those who set it in motion—those who lived within its walls—still haunt the ruins. Not as ghosts, but as echoes waiting to be heard once again.