Norbert, one of the men, wore the same royal robes that Gabriel had seen on the body of King Arian, the man he had found lying at the bottom of the stairs. Norbert's eyes gleamed with malice as he raised his chalice in a toast.
"My brother is finally dead," Norbert declared, his voice dripping with triumph.
Gabriel's gaze shifted to the other man in the room, Malakhai, who wore an armor adorned with hard metal breastplates. The word "Eldrida" was engraved on the armor, and Gabriel's mind made the connection. Eldrida was not just a word – it was this place, the land that was being destroyed before his very eyes.
The pieces began to fall into place. The people he had seen earlier, the ones with pig snouts and cat ears, were the subjects of King Arian and Queen Libertà. But where was the prince? And who was the young girl he had seen combing her hair, the one with the piercing blue eyes?
Gabriel's thoughts swirled with questions, but Norbert's next words cut through the chaos. "And now, with my brother dead, I am the rightful king of Eldrida."
Malakhai, despite being much younger than Norbert, exuded an air of quiet confidence. His expression was serene, but his lips curled into a sinister smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"To Eldrida," Malakhai toasted, his voice low and smooth.
As he spoke, his hand moved swiftly, and a concealed sword flashed in the dim light. The blade bit deep into Norbert's thigh, causing him to cry out in pain and shock.
Norbert's eyes widened in rage and betrayal as he stumbled backwards, clutching at his wounded leg. "You treacherous dog!" he snarled, his face twisted in anger.
Malakhai's smile never wavered. He withdrew his sword, its blade stained with Norbert's blood, and bowed his head in a mock gesture of respect. "Forgive me, Your Majesty," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But I fear your reign is at an end."
Norbert's scream echoed through the room, his face contorted in rage and agony. "You will never be made king of Eldrida!" he spat, his voice venomous. "The throne will only belong to the blood of Eldrian kings, and you... you are nothing but a usurper!"
Malakhai's smile never wavered, but his eyes seemed to gleam with a cold, calculated light. "We shall see about that," he said, his voice low and menacing.
Norbert's eyes blazed with fury, but his body weakened, his lifeblood seeping from the wound in his thigh. "You... you will never rule Eldrida," he gasped, his voice barely audible. "The prince... the prince will return... and he will reclaim his rightful throne."
Malakhai's expression turned glacial, his smile freezing in place. "I think not," he whispered, his words dripping with malice.
Malakhai spat on the ground, his eyes blazing with contempt. "The prince is dead," he sneered, his voice dripping with malice.
Norbert's face twisted in rage and despair, but Malakhai just glowered at him, his expression unyielding. "I will leave you to your misery," he said, his voice cold and detached. "You will live out the rest of your days as a slave, a constant reminder to the Eldridians of your treachery. And I... I will be their beloved king."
Norbert's scream of rage and defiance was cut short as Malakhai laughed maniacally, the sound echoing off the walls. In a desperate bid to strike back, Norbert raised his left arm, and the building's pillars began to collapse, the sound of crashing stone and dust filling the air.
But Malakhai was prepared. He raised his hands, and the collapse was halted, the rubble and debris suspended in mid-air, mere inches from Norbert's cowering form.
Norbert's eyes widened in shock and horror. "How?" he gasped, his voice barely audible. "How did you do that? You can't have the Eldridian king's magic... it's impossible."
Malakhai's smile was evil and enigmatic. "Don't you like to know?" he muttered, his eyes glinting with malevolence.
As he turned to leave, he began to hum a strange, discordant tune, the sound sending shivers down Norbert's spine. And with that, Malakhai departed, leaving Norbert to his fate, trapped beneath the rubble.