Prologue
In his day, the word "king" was subjective, but Nadarr certainly carved out the definition for the term. The word was used loosely in the Wandering Period, to describe one that was more dominant than others, but no lion exactly fit or fulfilled the role, as there was no need for someone to. The lack of prides primarily defined any leadership roles, such as "kings" to be completely useless. Thus, as the Wandering Period concluded and prides began to dapple the earth's surface, Nadarr was the leading lion to be subject to such a term that is "king."

Born to Adra and the Amaak king, Korin. It was ironic, his father was a poor excuse for the leading, godly figure he was supposed to be. Breaking his own rules and mating with a mortal lioness was laughable to those who knew of Nadarr's existence, which were few.
Adra abandoned the poor cub when he was just minutes old, out of fear for what he meant for her. It was a selfish thing to do, nonetheless, dragging around the land's newest and strongest piece of walking taboo would no doubt put a lion in some serious danger from the Amaak. In fact, most demigods were surefootedly avoided for this exactly reason.

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It was over just as quick as it began. Adra let out a final roar of pain, her newborn cub now nestled next to her back legs. She didn't even want to look. What would she see? A hideous deformity that she would have to call her cub? Or maybe something worse? Her snout began to wrinkle up in disgust just thinking about it.
She began to think back in regret to that rendezvous with the Amaak, Korin. She was unaware of the repercussions, but even if she was, would that've prevented her pregnancy?

She didn't want to, but she finally lifted her leg and glanced at her newborn cub. What she saw horrified her more than any deformity. Her cub looked normal, and completely healthy.

Adra's mind began to swarm with confusion. What did this mean? How is it that her cub is completely normal? Surely this is a sign, a bad omen?
It was too much for her. Whatever this cub could possibly mean for her, on top of the danger it would put her in, pushed her to abandon him, with tears welled in her eyes.

And so, that minute-old cub, his pelt still damp from birth, was left alone in the Muhohr Highlands, a place where no cub should end up alone.

He was too young to even chirp or mew for help. Even if anyone could hear him, it would certainly bring unwanted attention. The odds were stacked against the little Nadarr. He lay there, in the sun, receiving what little warmth it provided whilst at extreme vulnerability from virtually everything around him.

It was until evening that he did start searching for his mother - her warmth, her milk. He cried out in distress - possibly the worst mistake he would ever make. The Osis king in which this portion of the Muhohr Highlands belonged to, Ocarin, was alerted to Nadarr's presence. It didn't take him long to find the squealing cub.

Ocarin only had to take a look at the cub to sense the Amaak blood flowing through him.

WIP