The heavy oak doors of the throne room slowly creaked open. Into the hall walked Rikard Ortelian, the envoy from the neighboring kingdom. His stride was confident, his gaze piercing. The dark blue cloak adorned with the crest of Queen Liаnisa Virenia flowed down to the floor in waves, and a royal seal was clearly visible on his belt.
He scanned the room, carefully studying those present before slowly stepping forward.
The voices around him fell silent.
On the throne sat Kairion Estelaris… but he did not appear as he always did. His face was pale, and the hand gripping the armrest of the throne trembled.
The king barely managed to swallow the air. His chest tightened as if an invisible chain were tightening around him.
The envoy stopped, bowed his head, and spoke:
— "Your Majesty. I have come with urgent news from Her Majesty Liаnisa Virenia."
Kairion slowly raised his head. His vision blurred for a moment, but he forced himself to focus.
— "Speak..." he rasped, his voice hoarse, and the change did not go unnoticed by those present.
Rikard fixed his gaze directly on the king.
— "Our scouts have discovered a massive concentration of orcs along the shared border. They are setting up camps, and according to our calculations, there are already more than ten thousand of them."
A murmur rose in the hall. The advisors whispered among themselves, and the generals exchanged glances.
But it was Waldegar who reacted the most loudly.
— "This is a lie!" — he shouted, raising his hand. His eyes blazed with fury.
Rikard slowly turned his head towards him.
— "Do you deny our intelligence, Your Radiance?"
Waldegar clenched his teeth.
— "Our spies have reported nothing! How is it possible that Queen Liаnisa knows about this, and we do not?"
The king pressed his temples. It felt as though the room briefly blurred before his eyes. He slowly leaned forward, adjusting his collar, which suddenly felt suffocating.
"What is happening to me...?"
Waldegar threw a quick glance at the king and barely held back a smile.
"Everything is going according to plan. The wine is working."
Rikard remained calm.
— "Our queen is not one to make empty claims. She offers an alliance to protect our lands."
At that moment, the king suddenly coughed.
It was a deep, painful cough that reverberated through his chest, making him lean forward.
The guards tensed.
Waldegar took a step forward, feigning concern.
— "Brother? What is wrong?"
The king coughed several more times, even harder, then slowly raised his hand, signaling that everything was fine.
But no one was convinced.
Kairion slowly breathed in and looked up at Rikard.
— "Is... this true?" His voice sounded weak.
Rikard nodded.
— "We have the evidence."
The king tried to compose himself, but suddenly it felt as though the air had become too thick. His fingers gripped the scepter... and it fell to the floor with a loud metallic clang.
Rikard halted.
A heavy silence hung in the hall.
— "Brother?" — Waldegar stepped closer, his face twisted in concern, but his eyes burned with triumph.
Kairion raised his hand to his throat, as if something were choking him from the inside.
— "Healer..." — he whispered softly. — "Healer... to me... quickly..."
Rikard glanced suspiciously at Waldegar.
Waldegar theatrically gestured to the guards.
— "Call the healer at once!"
But he already knew nothing would help.
"Are you dying, brother? Do you feel your strength fading?"
The king staggered, his hands falling limp.
A drop of blood fell from his mouth.
Panic spread through the hall.
Rikard stepped forward, his eyes flashing with suspicion.
— "What's wrong with your king?!"
The king collapsed sharply to his knees, his hands almost touching the stone floor.
Rikard fixed his gaze directly on Waldegar.
— "What happened here?" — Rikard's voice rang out loudly, like the blade of a sword slicing through the silence.
Waldegar sharply raised his head, feigning shock.
— "Our king is healthy, he's just... he's just exhausted!"
Rikard pressed his lips together skeptically.
— "But just a few minutes ago, he looked fine."
Kairion suddenly clutched his chest, his back arching, and a muffled groan of pain escaped his lips.
His body began to tremble uncontrollably.
The courtiers stepped back in fear, backing even further.
The healer rushed into the hall, immediately kneeling before the king.
— "What's wrong with him?" — one of the generals cried.
The healer touched Kairion's chest and suddenly went pale.
— "This is not just an illness..."
The king gripped his hand in a spasmodic motion.
— "Help me..." — he whispered almost inaudibly.
The healer immediately began an incantation, placing his hands on the king's body. But in that moment, he froze.
Everyone in the hall noticed it.
His hands trembled.
— "Magic..." — he whispered. — "It's not working..."
A stunned murmur rippled through the hall.
— "WHAT?"
The healer recoiled.
— "His body... rejects any healing."
Kairion jerked his head back and screamed as an unbearable pain pierced his heart.
Rikard watched this, and now he was certain.
"This is not exhaustion."
The king had been poisoned.
Waldegar pretended to embrace his brother, leaning in closer.
"Hold on, Kairion... I'm here."
But there was no pity in his eyes.
Only victory.
"You're on the edge, brother. Just a little longer, and I will be the sole heir to this kingdom. I am the new king."
Kairion felt something inside him fading.
His hands no longer felt the weight.
His gaze rose to the ceiling... and he saw the face of Eirelina.
"Don't be afraid, Kairion... it's time to rest."
With these thoughts, he took his final breath.
His heart stopped.
In the deep silence, the only sound that filled the hall was the metallic clink of the royal scepter falling to the floor and Waldegar's heavy sigh as he theatrically closed his eyes, pretending to grieve.
The king was dead.
The silence of the city was broken only by the howling wind and the occasional voices of drunkards wandering the streets. A thick mist hung above the guild, shimmering in the light of the lanterns. Inside the building, all was quiet — most of the adventurers were either asleep or downstairs, finishing their last mugs of ale. Only a few candles flickered faintly in the corridors.
Elaysa Estelaris lay in bed, wrapped in her blanket like a cocoon, but her body couldn't seem to find a comfortable position. She was exhausted, drained from the stressful days behind her, yet sleep wouldn't come.
Her eyes stared at the wooden ceiling, where a faint light barely filtered through the gaps between the boards. Somewhere far below, the sound of laughter and clinking mugs from the tavern echoed, but it felt distant, like it belonged to another world.
She sighed.
"Why can't I sleep?"
She turned onto her side, closed her eyes, and forced herself to focus on the steady rhythm of her breathing.
One... two... three...
But suddenly – a sharp, searing pain in her chest!
Elaysa's eyes flew open as she grabbed her chest. Her heart beat as if trapped, squeezing with pain. The air suddenly grew thick, and her fingers trembled.
She sat up quickly.
"What is this?!"
The pain was incomprehensible, as if something inside her was breaking. She couldn't breathe. Her body spasmed, bending forward, and her eyes widened in horror.
There was a feeling in her mind that something... was wrong.
Something terrible had happened.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she pressed her hands to her chest, desperately trying to understand what was happening to her.
Images began to flood her mind.
The red royal mantle.
A hand gripping the golden scepter.
Father...
Father?!
Her eyes widened even further.
— "No..."
She felt as though she could see him standing before her, but not as he usually did. His figure was ghostly, and his face was gaunt. He reached out to her, his lips moving as if he was speaking, but no sound came.
She desperately stretched forward.
— "But... but you..."
And then he vanished.
The pain in her chest abruptly receded, and she exhaled heavily. Her breathing was erratic, cold sweat beading on her forehead.
She trembled.
Something was wrong.
She threw off the blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her hands were still trembling as she tried to calm herself, but everything inside her told her that something had happened.
Something terrifying.
She ran a hand over her face and stood up.
"Am I losing my mind? Or was that a dream?"
Her legs shook as she took a few steps toward the window. She pulled the curtains aside and gazed into the dark cityscape.
The roofs of buildings vanished into the night's mist. Lanterns cast faint light on narrow streets.
But everything seemed… wrong.
Something had changed.
She took a deep breath and ran her hand over her chest.
The pain faded.
Only a faint echo remained somewhere deep inside.
"Maybe it's just exhaustion...?"
She wanted to believe it.
But subconsciously, she knew — it wasn't just that.
Elaysa stood by the window for a long time, listening to the night and staring into the darkness.
She felt that something in the world had shifted.
But she didn't know what exactly.
The king's death had turned this hall into a tomb. The heavy air was filled with silence, squeezing the hearts of everyone present. The magnificent throne, which had always symbolized unshakable power, remained empty. Its master lay on the cold marble, and the candlelight cast flickering reflections on his pale face. He was now just a shadow of former strength… but one thing remained. Something that belonged to him by right of royal blood. And something that now belonged to his killer.
King Kairion Estelaris lay motionless. His chest no longer rose, his heart silenced.
And then…
Something changed.
A dark, ominous glow began to emanate from his chest.
The courtiers stepped back in horror.
— "What… what is this?" — whispered one of the advisors.
The light pulsed, spreading in waves, as if the very heart of the kingdom was still trying to fight for its master.
And then…
With a dull sound, something emerged from Kairion's chest.
A faint shimmer hung in the air.
A magical crystal.
Its shape was irregular, the perfectly cut facets shimmering like liquid gold, and inside it, energy swirled — the same energy that had once fueled the king.
The royal crystal — a source of power passed only to the most powerful rulers.
Its light slowly faded, losing its warmth, for now it had no master.
It seemed as though even time itself stood still as everyone watched it gently descend to the ground…
But it did not fall.
Waldegar Lokris's hand intercepted it while it was still in the air.
A collective gasp echoed through the hall.
— "He..." someone barely managed to speak.
Waldegar stood, his hand outstretched. His fingers clenched the magical crystal, and for a moment, his eyes flashed with triumph.
"This is it. This is the moment I've been waiting for."
His fingers tightened around the crystal, and he felt the remnants of Kairion's power still smoldering inside it.
He felt it.
His pain. His fear. His last breath.
And it brought him pleasure.
He lifted his gaze to the others in the hall.
Their faces were filled with horror, but no one dared to utter a word.
Waldegar took a deep breath and raised the crystal above his head.
— "The king is dead..."
His voice echoed off the walls.
All the courtiers fell to their knees, for they knew what this meant.
— "Long live the new king!" — shouted General Reynaldo's voice.
Within an hour, riders had spread the news across all the lands.
Black flags now fluttered on the towers.
Throughout the kingdom, the bells tolled to announce the ruler's death.
And everyone who heard their sound knew that with the old king, an era had died.
But not everyone accepted this change.
Far away, in their castles, lords and dukes whispered of conspiracy.
In the fortresses, soldiers gripped the hilts of their swords, unsure whether they should swear allegiance to the new ruler.
And to the west, in the distant castle of Queen Liаnisa Virenia, her messenger had just left the palace of the dead king.