The Empire of Zaelgoth echoed with screams of agony.
In the grand courtyard of the palace, the shamans collapsed one by one, their bodies slashed by the blades of the imperial executioners. The white marble pavement was slowly stained crimson under the impassive gaze of Emperor Vaelzar.
Seated on his throne, he observed the scene without the slightest emotion.
— Burn the bodies. Leave no trace.
His officers bowed, executing his order without hesitation.
The massacre of the shamans was not a mere whim. It was a purge. A response to the unforgivable betrayal that had just been committed.
Eryndal had escaped.
The only one capable of reading the dream he had forgotten.
The only one who had dared to defy his destiny.
— A slave who dares to flee deserves a punishment worse than death.
Vaelzar slowly gripped the armrests of his throne. His gloved fingers sank into the carved wood.
He could feel the threat looming over his empire, like a growing shadow ready to descend upon him.
— Where is he? he asked in an icy voice.
A general knelt before him.
— Our scouts have spotted their escape to the west, Your Majesty. They are moving quickly, but...
He hesitated.
— But what?
— They have crossed the Black Mountains. We cannot pursue them without sending an entire army.
A heavy silence fell over the hall. Everyone knew what that meant.
The Black Mountains marked the border between the empire and forgotten lands, cursed ruins where even the most hardened soldiers refused to go.
But Vaelzar was not a man to retreat in the face of fear.
He rose slowly.
His black and gold cloak unfurled behind him like the shadow of a predator.
— Prepare my legions.
The officers exchanged uncertain glances.
— Majesty… you mean… yourself…?
Vaelzar set his gaze on the man who had spoken. A shiver ran down the general's spine.
— When a thorn threatens an empire, it is the sovereign's duty to pluck it out himself.
A cruel smile stretched across his lips.
— I will hunt down that child myself.
Far from the palace… Eryndal and his companions ran through the steep trails of the Black Mountains. They had no time to lose; they knew something would soon be hunting them.
The wind howled with fury, lifting ashes and dust in their wake.
Darek, panting, glanced behind him.
— We managed to shake off the scouts… but not for long.
Elion stopped near a rock, catching his breath.
— He will send his armies, that's certain.
Alessia, fists clenched, stared at the horizon.
— Then we keep moving. We can't stop now.
Eryndal, silent until now, placed a hand on his chest. He could still feel the echo of the previous battle, the mark of his double weighing on his soul.
But he had no time to dwell on it.
The king was coming.
And this time…
It wouldn't be soldiers they would face.
But Vaelzar himself.
The tyrant's shadow was already looming over them.