Royal Garden, the Tomb of the Late Queen.
It was deep into the night. The air was thick with cold dampness, and the moonlight sluggishly filtered through the dense branches of ancient trees. The barely audible rustling of leaves and the distant call of an owl filled the silence. Lanterns blazed above the tomb, casting faint, shadowy shapes onto the marble statues that surrounded the grave.
King Kairion Estelaris knelt before the white marble tomb, his gaze fixed on the name carved into the stone. His hand trembled as he traced his fingers across the cold letters.
Eirelina Estelaris – Queen, Mother, Light in the Darkness.
His chest tightened with a pain that felt like something inside him had snapped. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, listening to the stillness around him.
— "My dear Eirelina…" — his voice was dry, hollow. — "Once again, I stand here, and once again, I don't know what to do. I've lost her… I've lost our daughter."
A cold wind passed through the alleyway, stirring the golden strands of his nearly silver hair.
— "I was not a good father, was I?" — He smiled bitterly, though pain blazed in his eyes. — "I placed the kingdom above my own blood. I wanted her happiness, but perhaps... I just forgot to ask what she truly wanted."
His fingers clenched into a fist, then relaxed again.
She was supposed to marry the prince, and that union would have strengthened our borders. We could have weathered the storm. But now...
Kairion lowered his head, his shoulders trembling.
— "Now, I fear she is dead."
It seemed as if the wind had circled around him, whispering through the leaves, like the voices of the past. He suddenly lifted his head, as though expecting an answer.
— "I feel you here… near. You were always smarter than me. Tell me what to do?"
His voice rang out in desperation. It was as if he was begging the heavens, begging death itself for an answer. And in that moment, when the night wrapped him in its solitude, his imagination painted her silhouette before him.
A slender figure, long hair shimmering in the glow of the lanterns. Ghostly, barely perceptible, but so familiar.
— "You haven't lost her, Kairion."
His heart froze.
— Eirelina? — he whispered.
— "There is still hope."
The king closed his eyes, wishing to preserve this voice in his memory.
— "I'm too weak..."
— "You are a king. You cannot be weak."
His fists clenched.
— "You must fight. If you don't save the kingdom, who else will?"
Kairion took a deep breath but didn't have time to respond, as footsteps sounded behind him.
Valdegar Locris slowly approached the king. His tall silhouette was engulfed in shadows from the lanterns. In his hand, he held a bottle of wine and two glasses. His lips twisted into a barely noticeable smile.
— "Forgive me for interrupting, brother..." — his voice was quiet, almost sympathetic. — "I thought it would be fitting to drink to Eirelina's memory tonight."
Kairion lifted his gaze, still half lost in his world.
— "I don't know if it's worth it…"
— "It is." — Valdegar sat beside him, opening the bottle. — "I found an old wine we drank at your wedding. Isn't it ironic?"
The king nodded heavily. Valdegar poured him a glass.
The wine was dark, rich, and slightly viscous. But no one knew it had been cursed by the strongest demon mage. Its effect wasn't immediate – it shattered the body from within, leaving the mind conscious until the very last second.
Kairion lifted his glass and paused, while Valdegar watched him with barely noticeable anticipation.
"Come on, drink..."
The king slowly took a sip.
He couldn't help but savor the moment. The king, his brother, the one who had always been ahead, the one with the strength to rule – now weakening right before his eyes.
Valdegar slowly pretended to drink, but his lips never touched the wine.
"Oh, how easy this is..."
He was already mentally sitting on the throne.
Kairion took another sip, feeling the sharp taste on his tongue. Despite the coolness of the night, he began to feel warmth, even a slight dizziness. He glanced over at Valdegar, who sat beside him, calmly swirling his glass.
— "Is this really the same wine?" — The king asked quietly, tilting his head.
Valdegar smiled faintly, pretending to take a sip, though his lips never touched the liquid.
— "Yes, brother. The same taste, the same aroma… just like on your wedding day."
The king gazed off into the distance, watching the wind play with the branches of the trees.
— "Strange..." — he sighed. — "It seems that this taste… it's more bitter than before."
His hand trembled slightly. He slowly twirled the glass between his fingers, then brought his hand to his chest. Where his heart lay, a faint, almost imperceptible tingling appeared.
Valdegar, hiding his pleasure, wore a concerned expression.
— "Perhaps you're just tired, brother. These last few days have been hard on you."
Kairion nodded slowly, raising his glass to his lips. But this time, he took only a small sip.
"Drink more, brother. Let the poison fill your blood. Feel how it drains your strength, how it burns your body from within."
He carefully pushed his glass aside, pretending that he no longer wished to drink.
"Everything is going perfectly. The king doesn't suspect anything… He just thinks he's tired. But soon enough, he won't even be able to raise his hand without pain."
Valdegar took a deep breath, feeling triumph swell inside him.
"I've endured. I've waited for this for years. I followed orders, played the role of the faithful brother, endured this humiliating position of being second in line. But now I'm first. I am the true king."
His fingers tightened around the glass.
"And no one will make me bend to anyone's pressure. Not even the head of the Secret Order. He thinks he controls me? He's just one of the pawns in my game."
Valdegar barely held back a self-satisfied smile.
"Drink a little more, brother… your time is almost up."
Kairion pressed his temples, as though trying to shake off a slight dizziness. His fingers turned pale for a moment as he clenched them into a fist.
— "Interesting..." — he murmured, looking at his hands.
— "What's interesting?" — Valdegar tilted his head, staring closely at his face.
— "I feel a fatigue I've never felt before. It's as if…" — the king paused, closing his eyes. — "…my body has grown heavier."
Valdegar nodded sympathetically, though inside, a fire of joy burned within him.
"Exactly. First comes the slight fatigue, then the heaviness, then you'll feel your breathing grow shallow. And then…"
— "Maybe you should rest?" — Valdegar suggested, leaning closer. — "It's been a draining day. You're not yourself."
Kairion raised his gaze and, for the first time that evening, looked closely at Valdegar.
— "I've always wondered… didn't you ever want to be king?"
Valdegar momentarily caught his breath but quickly regained his composure.
— "I've always been content with what I had, brother." — He flashed a submissive smile. — "I'm your right hand, and I've always been loyal to you."
Kairion slowly nodded, but there was something like distrust in his eyes.
— "Hm…" — he took another sip.
This time, the warmth in his chest morphed into a strange, almost unbearable heartburn.
The king flinched ever so slightly.
Valdegar, noticing this, almost laughed out loud.
"Everything is going perfectly. Now you're my past, brother. And I am your future."
Kairion threw his head back, inhaling the cold night air. His fingers trembled, and a strange lightness began to creep into his head, bordering on dizziness.
— "I'm tired, Valdegar..." — he sighed, setting his glass down on the stone slab beside him.
His brother leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, and stared at his face with feigned concern.
— "I understand, brother. So much has fallen on you. But…"
Valdegar instantly changed his expression, as though recalling something important. He slapped his forehead dramatically.
— "Oh, I completely forgot!"
Kairion lifted a tired gaze to him.
— "What now?"
— "A messenger arrived from the neighboring kingdom. I should have told you earlier, but this evening..." — he glanced at the tomb, emphasizing the significance of the moment, — "I didn't want to disturb you."
The king rubbed his face, as if trying to hold back the exhaustion.
— "A messenger? From whom?"
— "From Queen Lianisa Virenia. He came with an important message."
Kairion forced himself to sit upright, though his shoulders felt even heavier.
— "And you couldn't tell me this sooner?" — His voice wasn't angry, just irritably weary.
Valdegar shrugged.
— "You can see how tired you are. I thought maybe it would be better for you to rest before meeting him..."
The king closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose.
— "No. If it's important, I need to hear it now."
Valdegar nodded and stood, feigning joy at his brother's resolve.
— "Then let's go. I'll take you to the throne room."
Kairion stood with difficulty. As he took his first step, his leg jolted, and he nearly stumbled.
Valdegar immediately offered his hand, catching him by the elbow.
— "Brother, are you alright?"
The king shook off his hand, wincing.
— "Yes. It's just… seems like I've had more than I thought."
Valdegar smiled.
"Oh, yes… you drank exactly as much as was needed."
He pretended not to notice Kairion's weakness.
— "Let's go. We can't keep the messenger waiting."
And they moved through the night garden, the lantern shadows stretching behind them like a forewarning of the inevitable fall.
The Throne Room of the Royal Palace.
The night darkens further, and the lights in the hall burn bright, casting long shadows. The atmosphere is tense. The red carpet leads to the base of the throne, surrounded by generals and advisors.