Unbeknownst to all, King Elak had mysteriously disappeared from his palace, veiled by a shroud of secrecy and confusion. Not a single soul—be it his ever-watchful guards, his loyal ministers, or even the beloved Queen herself—had any inkling that their sovereign was missing. Five long, harrowing nights slipped away in silence as the true Elak traversed the treacherous and twisting mountain paths leading to the Volcanic Shrine of Kargan. This hidden sanctuary, steeped in ancient lore and revered as a place of immense power, was a realm where only the bravest of kings and the most audacious of madmen dared to tread.
Upon reaching the shrine, Elak found himself enveloped by an ominous atmosphere, where sulfur pits bubbled threateningly and stone sentinels loomed silently, watching over the ancient site. It was here, amidst the haunting desolation, that Elak sought to rid himself of the creeping madness that had begun to claw its way into his mind. The specters of the angels plagued his every thought—phantoms that seemed forever out of reach, mocking and undefeated. Desperate to find solace, he undertook a rigorous regimen of fasting and the burning of aromatic incense, pouring out whispered incantations from a time long past that promised to cleanse his tumultuous thoughts and soothe the raging tempest within.
Meanwhile, far removed from the sacred energy of Kargan, the fallen angel Samyaza had set his plans into motion. Operating under a veil of darkness and deception, he observed the kingdom from the shadows and prepared to enact his manipulative scheme. Merging his essence with that of Elak, he assumed a replica of the king's visage and slipped unnoticed into the palace, camouflaged within his regal surroundings. To everyone in the court, life appeared as it always had; the king sat at the head of the table during meals, issued terse directives, and, despite a noticeable distance in his demeanor, maintained the illusion of his presence as he had done for weeks.
As dusk descended on the first night, Queen Arame, ever tender-hearted, invited her husband to retire to their chambers. Samyaza followed, executing his performance with flawless precision. For the next two nights, he shared her bed, whispered sweet nothings in the familiar tone of Elak's voice, and left her believing wholeheartedly that she had been enveloped in her husband's affection. Yet, as dawn unveiled the third morning, the shadowy figure of Samyaza vanished into thin air, leaving no trace of his dark deception.
Just two nights later, the true Elak returned to the comfort of the palace as the first light of dawn kissed the sky, his appearance shockingly altered; his face bore the gaunt hollows of sleepless nights and worry, and his garments were mottled with ash, remnants of his arduous pilgrimage. He uttered not a word about his harrowing journey, and upon seeing the disheveled visage of her husband, Queen Arame was immediately seized by a tide of worry and concern. In a flurry of anxious energy, she summoned the royal physician to assess Elak's condition—yet it was ultimately she who would soon become the focus of attention.
As the physician began his meticulous examination, Arame hovered close, her voice tinged with urgency as she implored him for answers. Suddenly, without any forewarning, her knees buckled, and she crumpled into the physician's arms. Panic erupted like wildfire among the attendants filling the chambers, their confusion growing as they scrambled to comprehend the scene unfolding before them. "Call for the aides!" an alarmed maidservant shouted, "The Queen needs help!"
Amidst the upheaval, the physician remained serene and methodical. He gently laid her down, checked her pulse, and then pressed his ear against her abdomen. For a fleeting moment, he remained utterly still, and the room held its collective breath. Then, as if a bolt of lightning had struck, he broke into a smile, radiating joy.
"She is not ill," he proclaimed with a reassuring tone. "She carries life within her. The Queen is with child!"
A profound silence enveloped the room, thick with astonishment, before it shattered like glass. Joy erupted and filled the space like a gust of vibrant wind. Elak, still reeling from his inner turmoil, stepped forward, taking Arame's hand with trembling fingers, his voice strained and cracking with disbelief. "A child?" he echoed, as though trying to wrap his mind around the overwhelming reality that now stood before him.
"A strong one," the physician confirmed, a gleam of pride in his eyes. "At last, my King, you will have an heir!"
In an instant, the very foundations of the palace seemed to tremble with exhilaration as a tidal wave of celebration washed over them. Maids wept tears of joy, ministers clapped their hands and raised fervent praises to the heavens, and drummers in the outer court struck an exuberant rhythm, sending word of the joyous news cascading throughout the kingdom faster than the thunder of a storm.
An heir! The King has an heir!
To Elak, this revelation felt like a divine endorsement—a clear sign from the gods themselves that his legacy was not only secured but destined to flourish. His heartbeat quickened with a sense of power, and he imagined how his enemies would tremble in fear at this turn of events.
Yet, amid the jubilant uproar, nestled deep within the cavernous shadows, Samyaza observed with a sinister smile curling upon his lips. The very seed of rebellion, now entwined with the legacy of King Elak, had taken root within the palace itself, setting the stage for a conflict that would ripple through the kingdom for years to come.