The sky itself was in turmoil. Clouds loomed above, dark as coal, torn apart by pulsating lightning that lit the horizon as if etching an ancient script across the heavens. This was no ordinary storm; it wasn't merely wind rustling the trees or rain falling to the ground. No—it was something else entirely. A strange entity. A massive tempest playing in the sky, revealing what lies beyond the fabric of existence.
A cyclone swept across the upper skies, as though a battle was raging between forces far beyond human comprehension. It hadn't touched the earth, but everything beneath it trembled. The trees stood still, untouched, as if bearing silent witness to an event they could not intervene in. The sky was the stage, and the battle unfolded beneath its surface.
On that day, the storm intensified in ways no one had ever seen before—it flipped the royal court upside down. Amidst the chaos, King Idrian Val sat upon his throne, surrounded by the shifting storm, while a silent war raged within his chest—one words failed to describe.
Moments of silence filled the hall—uneasy, pregnant with tension. It was not a silence of peace, but the silence before a collapse. Eyes darted around, pale faces exchanged worried glances, and hushed whispers passed between lips, tainted with fear.
A knight standing near the wall finally broke the silence, his voice hoarse, strangled by anxiety:
— "Do you see the color of the sky? I've never seen it this black… It looks like the mouth of a beast about to swallow everything..."
Another knight, clutching his cloak tightly around him as if chilled by a creeping cold, replied:
— "It's not just the color… Even the wind carries a strange scent… The scent of death. As if it's coming from ancient graves forced open without permission."
An elderly man, his back bent under the weight of years, stepped forward and spoke in a trembling voice:
— "In all my time, I've never heard the wind scream like this… Storms come and go… But this? This feels like it's standing above the city, watching… waiting for something."
A young man let out a bitter, hopeless laugh, his voice cracking with fear:
— "And what would it be waiting for, if not our ruin? Who would survive if that curse descended upon us?"
Another, staring at the rattling windowpane, muttered grimly:
— "If that storm descends upon the city… nothing will remain the same. Roofs will fly off, walls will collapse… Even people… their skin might be torn from their bodies by the sheer force of the wind."
A weary man gripping his sword as if it alone could protect him from fate spoke with dread:
— "The problem isn't the wind or the lightning… It's what the sky is hiding inside that storm… Do you really believe it's just the wind howling?"
Everyone fell silent, as though his words had struck a deep, buried chord.
Then one of them, pointing toward the sky through the trembling glass, whispered:
— "There's something in there… moving… within the clouds. It's not a bird. Not any beast I've known. Just… a shadow swimming through the air… waiting for its moment to descend."
They exchanged glances, hesitant—none could confirm it, but none dared deny it either.
One of the old sages finally spoke, his voice cold, like a man who knew more than he let on:
— "This isn't a mindless storm. This is a warning… only the beginning. What's coming next will be far worse, if we're not prepared."
He added with quiet sorrow:
— "The city will never be the same again… even if we survive the night. Nothing will return to the way it was."
Silence fell over the hall. There was nothing more to say. All eyes turned to King Idrian Val, awaiting his command. Yet the truth had already embedded itself in their hearts:
The sky had changed… and the world was changing with it.
King Idrian Val
"Enough of this noise!" His voice pierced the hall as he pressed his fingers against his forehead, trying to contain the chaos inside his mind.
At that very moment, as his voice echoed across the chamber, a hidden thought gnawed at him:
In the depths of his soul:
> "The world has lost its course… and darkness creeps ever closer. Can I truly lead my people through this chaos? Or has fate already written our end?"
Moments passed in heavy silence, before it shattered with the hesitant voice of the royal advisor calling out:
Advisor Mervall (nervously):
"Your Majesty… what are we to do in such a situation? The world has turned upside down… What is happening?"
His question echoed through the chamber, while King Idrian slowly summoned his courage, replying in a more contemplative tone:
King Idrian Val (in a low, deliberate voice):
"We must find our path through this heavenly storm. Something must be done… whatever the cost."
In that moment, thoughts surged through his mind—fear and determination mingling—fixing his eyes on the duty of restoring order to a world where reality had blurred with illusion.
Just then, a commotion stirred outside the throne room. Tension rose as a soldier clashed with one of the guards at the entrance. The scuffle was marked by broken, hurried words. The man approached the door and whispered in a voice low but urgent:
Soldier (anxiously whispering):
"I must speak to King Idrian. It's urgent… something has happened..."
All eyes turned toward the door in confusion, until King Idrian called from his throne:
King Idrian:
"Let him in."
The man burst into the hall, almost collapsing from fear and exhaustion, trembling visibly as he gasped out his words:
Soldier:
"Your Majesty… the General… h-he… the General sent me…"
Advisor Mervall (calmly, trying to clarify):
"Speak clearly. Don't panic."
The soldier, his face swinging between terror and despair, finally forced out his message:
(Voice trembling)
Soldier:
"Your Majesty… the General of the court… he told me to warn you… the beasts are descending from the storm. Terrifying creatures… not like the ones we see lurking in the forest… far, far stronger..."
Gasps and whispers spread like wildfire through the chamber. Alarm and disbelief filled the air. King Idrian turned sharply to his advisor and said:
King Idrian:
"Gather all the soldiers. We must protect our people from this… unnatural phenomenon."
Advisor Mervall (interrupting):
"Your Majesty… most of our knights are still stationed on the eastern front. Here in the capital, we have only the royal guard and a few reserve battalions. We can barely muster a full force, and even then, with only a handful of mages and healers."
And so, as the hall buzzed with whispered panic and shifting glances, a new resolve began to flicker in the eyes of King Idrian and Advisor Mervall—marking the beginning of preparations for a battle that might forever alter the fate of the kingdom.