9

  The banquet hall glowed with music and laughter when the doors opened again—this time, with a presence that shifted the room’s air. A noble stepped inside, dressed in a striking suit of deep crimson threaded with silver, shoulders adorned with elegant pauldrons, and his hair tied back with a ribbon of Aurum blue. He walked with the grace of someone well-trained in court etiquette, and even the proudest nobles fell silent to watch him.

  Whispers fluttered like wings:

  “Who is he?”

  “Look at that attire…”

  “He must be of high lineage…”

  The man carried a long, narrow case—its lacquered black wood polished to a mirror shine. He moved through the crowd with calm confidence, bowing to the king and queen before gently kneeling before Princess Sophia.

  “Your Highness,” he said, voice smooth as honey. “On this most radiant day, when the kingdom itself sings your growth, I offer you a gift unseen in our age.”

  He opened the case.

  Inside lay a blade—not ornamented like ceremonial swords, but forged to perfection. The steel shimmered with faint silver veins that pulsed like flowing light, the hilt wrapped in white hide and capped with a pearl-like gemstone.

  Gasps rippled through the hall.

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  “A sword worthy of a princess strong in heart,” the noble proclaimed. “May you protect this kingdom as it has blessed your line. All praise to His Majesty the King, Her Majesty the Queen, and the noble Princes who uphold Aurum’s glory.”

  The hall warmed with admiration. Nobles nodded. Some even applauded.

  Sophia smiled—calm, poised. “Your gift is beautiful. You honor us.”

  But the noble’s eyes shifted.

  His warm smile wavered.

  His voice changed—deeper, cracking like a mask breaking.

  “Honor… yes,” he whispered. “But honor is fleeting. Beauty is fleeting. Aurum is rotting from within.”

  Shock froze the room.

  “The princess stands on a throne built upon lies,” he snarled, stepping closer.

  Before anyone could react, a dagger flashed from his sleeve—aimed straight for Sophia’s heart.

  “GUARDS!”

  Steel clashed. Shields crashed. Three royal guards slammed into him—another sliced his arm, and the dagger clattered to the floor. With a swift motion, the captain drew his sword and slit the noble’s throat.

  A gasp, sharp and collective, filled the hall.

  The noble collapsed—but no blood spilled.

  Instead—

  chittering.

  skittering.

  Insects—black beetles, pale worms, winged moths—poured from his mouth, eyes, nose. They swarmed across the floor, wings beating, legs scraping against the marble.

  Nobles screamed—chairs toppled—wine spilled across the table like dark water.

  The noble’s body shriveled, skin turning to ash-gray parchment stretched over bone, eyes dull and cracked like stone.

  And with the last air in his collapsing lungs, he screamed—

  “ALL HAIL THE GREAT BARANG!”

  His voice echoed—loud, hateful—and then fell silent forever.

  Guards rallied around the royal family.

  Nobles rushed for the exits, shoving, crying, terrified.

  Princess Sophia stood still—her face pale, yet her eyes unshaken.

  Something ancient had stirred.

  And the kingdom of Aurum…

  would never again know peace.