A/N: To any who were waiting for this next installment, sorry for the long time between updates! School has just been hectic. Hopefully, I will have time to write more on this during break. Anyway, hope you like this one, and please review if you read. I'm looking for any constructive criticism!

Chapter I: The Kinds of Principalities and the Means by Which They Are Acquired

"Principalities are…hereditary, in which the family has been long established…"

The story of Roshaun's ancestors was an old one, told in all the Wellakh history books and known by nearly all the planet, whether they liked it or not. As a young boy, Roshaun had always taken his royal wizardly heritage for granted. It was just what his family did, what they had been established to do. It was their duty to protect the people from what the people couldn't deal with on their own.

It wasn't until later that Roshaun had begun to feel the burden of his position. He still vividly remembered that first history lecture where his personal tutor had told him the story of his world's hardships. He had still been a young boy at the time, not yet a wizard, preparing for his role as future king of the entire planet. Somehow, then, it had not been a daunting concept.

But all that had changed, with one simple lesson.

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Roshaun tapped his foot impatiently, annoyingly weighed down by all of his courtly clothing. He wished sometimes that he could be like the other boys he saw running through the palace sometimes, children of servants or maids, but he knew that he was the son of the king, and had to behave as such. It was one of the first lessons he had been taught.

Now he was sitting in the reading room in the east wing of the palace library, waiting for his tutor to show up for the scheduled lesson. Today was supposed to be history, which he didn't really find too interesting, and he just wanted it to be over with.

He waited a few more minutes before realizing how very bad he was at waiting for anything. What is taking that man so long? he thought. It's not like he has anywhere else to be. Partially out of curiosity and partially out of boredom, Roshaun got up from the table he'd been sitting at and crossed to the other side, where a stack of books had been assembled, undoubtedly to aid in his lesson. He looked at the book at the top of the stack and, having nothing better to do, dragged it off the stack and set it down on the table. He lifted the large cover and opened the book to a page in the middle and began to read.

From the childhood journal of the first Sun Lord:

I am scared. Mother and father and the rest of the family have gathered in haste. They have sent the children to stay with friends on the other side of the world. I do not know why. I heard them talking before I was sent away with the others. They say there is something wrong with the sun, and that they must fix it. I do not understand, but still I am afraid.

Roshaun was beginning to find interest in the reading. The history lessons he had had so far had been boring, with no real disasters taking place, but this looked like it was getting good. Roshaun read on to the next entry, dated several hours later.

Mother and father and the rest of the family were right. Something has gone wrong with the sun. They have all of the wizards helping them, but they don't think they can fix it. I am more frightened now. Mother came to see me and little Anka, the baby. She was only here for a while. She had to go back and help. Anka was crying when mother said goodbye and I bent to calm her. When I looked up, mother was gone.

Though he wasn't sure why, a growing sense of dread was filling Roshaun. Now he read on in hopes that the boy's situation would improve; though he was not very close to his mother, this boy seemed to be. He had almost forgotten that he was reading a true story of one of his relations. The next entry was from several days later.

Though it is now over, I still don't understand. Mother and father will not be coming back. They died heroes, I am told, saving the rest of the world from a terrible fate. They are not the only ones: our family has lost many, all of these now labeled "heroes" like mother and father. People who didn't care for our family before are now visiting to pay their respects. They say they want a ruler from our family to become king. All I want is to see my parents again. I wish I had been old enough to die a hero along with them.

When his tutor finally walked in, nearly half an hour late and apologizing, Roshaun was still fixated on the last entry, unable to get the image of the little boy out of his head. In his mind, the boy looked a lot like him.

"So," his tutor said, "I see you've found the journals of your ancestor."

All Roshaun could do was nod.

The tutor smiled a sad smile that Roshaun couldn't quite place. "Would you like to hear the whole story?" the tutor asked.

Gathering himself, Roshaun said, "Yes, thank you," but all through the explanations, the voice of that little boy stayed with him, accompanied by a single thought.

That could be you next.