The sky was dim and overcast, as if a black brushstroke had been drawn from the earth all the way to the horizon. Not a trace of starlight remained. Snowflakes drifted slowly toward the intricately patterned glass window, where the glaring white candlelight clashed against the hazy, grey mist. The meeting table fell into silence. Even the sound of breathing felt too loud. No one spared a glance at the summary of the treasury report lying on the table — as if it were utterly worthless.
"The port is gone."
Ivan clenched his jaw, his voice trembling.
"We can't sell anything anymore…"
"That’s all? The funds!"
A voice rose from the center of the table.
BANG!
A fist slammed down hard on the wooden table.
“So what do you want me to do?!”
a noble barked, his voice rising.
“Just bring in the money! Are you serious?!”
the man across the table snapped.
"The damn metal won’t sell!"
the noble shouted, rising to his feet.
"Go find a buyer, YOU IDIOT!"
He shouted, pointing his finger accusingly.
The voices in the meeting room gradually grew louder, erupting into an endless frenzy...
CRASH!
The chessboard-like map at the center of the table was flipped over.
Game pieces scattered everywhere.
The board was slammed onto the floor.
The foot stomped on it again and again...
The whole plan shattered beyond repair!
Finally... silence settled over the room.
"Screw it, Nothing sold. Winter’s coming. We’ll stockpile supplies until the coronation."
Count Vorden declared loudly.
“Sir… the people are starving. They’re eating soaked bread crumbs. We should… establish a temporary currency. I will go negotiate with the capital—”
“That’s a good idea, Ivan.”
“I must commend you.”
Vorden smiled and slowly applauded.
Everyone hesitated for a moment before gradually breaking into applause.
“Mikael, take him down to the cellar to fetch some wine — let’s open a bottle and celebrate.”
Ivan smiled proudly at the eyes fixed upon him…
as Mikael led him out of the chamber,
the sound of applause still echoing in the air.
Moments after the door closed behind them…
A scream of agony rang out!
long and unrelenting…
The applause gradually faded...
Until it vanished into silence.
Everyone held their breath, eyes wide in alarm, staring at one another.
Mikael stepped back into the room,
calmly wiping a black liquid from his hands
His face… was streaked with dark wine.
The sharp scent of blood hung thick in the air.
“He spilled a little on himself,” Mikael said flatly, before returning to his seat with a calm, unbothered air.
The black footprints on the floor were still warm….
Lacelin, the little girl in the red coat, glanced at the snowflakes drifting down onto the white street. The red coat her brother had bought her hung loosely, too big for her small frame. She thought of him with every breath she took — especially on a day so bitterly cold like this. The little girl hugged herself tightly as she walked past the massive gray trees, nearly dead.
Their leaves had withered to black on one side, while the other side had turned pale white from the bitter cold. They slowly drifted down the street. She squinted her eyes, gazing at the town square that barely seemed to breathe anymore…
“Is there no more sugar?” the little boy asked softly.
“I'm sorry, little one. There’s nothing left…” the merchant replied sadly, his eyes filled with sympathy.
A man struggled to light a fire in a trash bin amid the biting, howling wind… before cursing in despair.
“Good evening, Ms. Daisy,” Lacelin greeted the elderly woman as she always did.
The old woman didn’t reply. Her face was somber as she slowly walked toward the abandoned house’s door.
Lacelin passed by a father and his child walking hand in hand.
“The last piece… my dear.”
The father said with a trembling voice, as he held out a small piece of bread to the little girl.
Not far away… Lacelin ran forward excitedly and pressed her face against the icy windowpane. The Carousel Athenaeum — adorned with a grand spiral staircase, the most magnificent and exquisite library in the West — was designed by Fedor Michelli, the architect of the age. Hundreds of thousands of books sat in perfect silence, without even a shadow cast by the chandelier’s light. No breath stirred the air… only the piercing howl of the cold wind could be heard.
An old man lay motionless near the church door, tightly sealed with nailed wooden planks — once a sanctuary of solace. People often came here to pray, pleading with the gods for a winter that wouldn’t linger too long.
The music school where she loved to quietly listen to the violin from outside the window… was silent and eerie. The music was missing, as if the world… no longer wished to hear it. She wiped the fogged glass before resting her hand on the cold surface.
Once upon a time… She remembered smiling and giggling with her friends on a bright, clear day. The sound of a grand piano played by a little boy… accompanied softly by a girl’s violin.
Unlike the scene before her… The black grand piano stood silent, its music stand toppled over. On the chalkboard, the message still read, “Come back to class tomorrow.”
Lacelin had nothing left but a few coins and her mother… who could barely walk.
That was all… she had.
The little girl went from door to door, knocking on homes she once knew well.
Door after door… Yet none opened to welcome her, Until she was nearly ready to give up.
Until she reached the door of a house...
Knock, knock, knock!
The door slowly creaked open.
The little girl caught the faint scent of gentle sunlight.
Lacelin couldn’t help but smile...
when she saw the boy’s grin — Theo, standing there holding a large baguette and a small parcel of smoked meat.
After waving goodbye to Lacelin, Theo gently closed the door behind him. Then he hurried toward the sitting room, the wooden floorboards creaking softly beneath his feet as if welcoming him home. He rushed to wipe the hazy balcony window, spending quite some time until it gleamed clear once more. Even though the trees and flowers outside had already begun to turn black, he ran down to the basement. The boy hugged a bundle of firewood almost too big for him to carry. Theo tilted his head, glancing left and right — he could barely see, with the wood piled high above his eyes. At last, the firewood was stacked neatly in front of the fireplace. The little boy carefully placed one log at a time into the flames.
A soft crackle rose. A wave of warmth brushed against his face. Jessica sat quietly, watching her son’s smile glow in the firelight. The scent of burning wood lingered in the air.
Theo turned to look at his mother, who no longer seemed as bright as she used to be.
"Don’t worry, Mom. Spring will be here soon," he said with a faint smile.
Jessica didn’t say a word. She leaned down and kissed his forehead, then pulled him into a tight embrace. The first tear slipped down her cheek.
Morning sunlight never reached Syrin. It was as if the city had been built from mist and snowflakes. A residential quarter nestled in the city’s heart had faded into shades of white, black, and gray. Then, without warning, the heavy doors creaked open. Theo stepped out quietly, inching his way through — and gently closed the door behind him.
The boy held close to his chest the painting from his father’s office. Maristella — the watercolor ship his mother once called the most beautiful of all — sailed across the Memoria Sea, bound for Seahorse Grand Port, the city that never slept, and the famed Falling Star Bridge. Theo couldn’t help but wonder — if he ever boarded that ship…
what wonders would he see?
The boy trembled at the sight of the city shrouded in darkness. His mother had once told him a story… Long ago, a dragon had visited Syrin — its massive wings blotting out the sun entirely. Its roar shook the entire city, plunging it into chaos and despair.
Clutching the picture tightly, Theo hurried past shuttered shops near the white stone stream encircling the square. The cold had frozen the water’s surface, and snow blanketed everything… making the place almost unrecognizable.
The boy barely dared to glance at the grand garden nearby…
Its ornate fence stood exquisite and delicate, while children’s laughter echoed as they chased squirrels fleeing up the trees. Smiles bloomed like rays of sunlight — Alice stood there, waving gently. Golden-yellow butterflies, like twinkling stars, fluttered about, soft violet petals drifting down like a first love sent from the heavens, and a sweet fragrance wafted through the air…
The scene before him had turned into the shattered remnants of a dream…
The boy stood frozen, mouth agape. No leaves remained on the blackened tree trunks. The soft grass had turned into a blanket of white snow. The fence still stood, but its branches had withered and grown wild, draping the area in gloom like a graveyard.
No laughter echoed. Not even a trace of the girl’s smile remained.
Theo recoiled, his heart pounding wildly. A shadow stirred just beyond the fence.
He quickened his pace — too afraid to look back.
The street was eerily silent as Theo crossed it, glancing left and right from time to time. He spotted a narrow alley between two towering buildings. Three- and four-story houses stood in quiet rows. In the center lay an abandoned garden.
The trees, blackened and lifeless, turned this place into eternal night…
Creak…!
The empty swing swayed slowly back and forth in the breeze.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a group of teenagers chatting nearby.
Their voices slowly faded into silence…
One pair of eyes flicked toward him — for just a split second.
Theo didn’t even realize he was running.
He didn’t look back.
Was someone following?
His breath hitched —
the painting thudded against his chest.
Footfalls crashed into snow that never melted…
Theo darted into the district of tall buildings at the street corner.
Footsteps pounded behind him — closer, louder, gaining fast!
He glanced at the window’s reflection — no one.
And yet… he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t.
THUD!
The boy crashed into something and fell hard onto the icy ground.
The painting slipped from his arms, landing face-down on the frozen surface.
Theo slowly opened his eyes.
A flurry of cold, white powder drifted down from above…
along with the last warmth of sunlight still clinging to the day.
“Dimitri!”
Theo called out brightly, a smile breaking across his face.
He took a deep breath… then closed his eyes once more.
A small hand reached out to him.
“Careful! That painting’s a gem,” came a clear, gentle voice —
before the hand gently pulled Theo to his feet.
Theo hurriedly picked up the painting from the ground, brushing off the clinging snow.
The glass bore a few small cracks but hadn’t shattered.
Dimitri handed him a large paper bag, his small hands trembling slightly under its weight,
trading it for the painting Theo had just picked up.
“Be careful, alright?”
Theo took the bag with both hands, his heart still pounding fiercely.
The boy hugged the contents tightly, his body trembling.
He nodded, lips quivering as if trying to speak…
but no sound escaped.
Theo glanced at his reflection in the shop window,
casting quick looks to the left and right to make sure... no one was following.
His legs trembled with a mix of fear and cold.
The boy hurriedly stepped across the street.
“HAND OVER THE FOOD!”
A young man’s voice rang out, a knife pressed close to the old woman’s throat.
“I already gave everything…”
She replied, trembling and barely standing.
“SEARCH HER!”
The demand came, sharp and threatening.
Theo turned his face away.
Eyes shut tight, he ran, clutching the bundle close —
as if it were more precious than his very life.
His mother was waiting for him…
Theo ran through the district of towering buildings.
He paused briefly,
then glanced back…
Panting, gasping for breath,
he pushed himself forward despite his trembling legs.
The boy slipped and fell to the ground.
Bread, potatoes, and smoked meat wrapped in linen cloth scattered everywhere…
He struggled to get up on the icy, freezing ground.
“I’m the one who set the fire,” a cold voice cut through the air.
The boy flinched, a chill running down his spine as he glanced nervously left and right…
“They came to steal our jobs, to steal our homes,” came the shouted reply.
“The king abandoned us because of them.”
“Good riddance if they burn to death.”
“But before they die, they must pay dearly.”
“How can we live alongside such FILTHY CREATURES?”
A furious roar erupted from the garden turned graveyard.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Theo slowly packed his things into the bag.
His heart pounded fiercely!
His small hands trembled uncontrollably…
He crept out quietly, afraid to even breathe.
Tears streamed down his face, lips trembling.
The boy staggered, nearly collapsing,
then clenched his teeth tight and ran with all his might.
The nearby home seemed to drift farther and farther away…
CRASH!
The shop’s door and window shattered into a thousand pieces!
A frantic crowd surged inside, clawing wildly at anything they could grab!
Boxes, bottles, and utensils scattered everywhere.
Shelves toppled in chaotic disarray.
A man climbed over the counter, eyes blazing with desperation.
He tore through drawers, searching for every last coin.
The scene before him stole the boy’s breath away.
His eyes widened, his whole body trembling...
He walked weakly at first…
then broke into a desperate run,
never looking back.
BANG!
The boy slammed the door shut,
locking the bolt tight.
He leaned against it, knees giving way,
and collapsed to the floor…
curling into a still, tense ball.
His breath came heavy, tears streaming down.
Both hands clutched his belongings so tightly his whole body tensed,
his frame trembling.
He lay motionless for a long moment…
then whispered one word,
“Mom… I’m home.”
Lacelin could hear the howling winter wind with every step she took. Her small hands were tucked deep inside her red coat. Day after day… the little girl wandered on — like someone who had lost her way. She started at the farm where her brother once worked. She still remembered his smile so clearly. No matter how cold the day became, his smile… was always as warm as summer. Of course it was. He was born in summer, after all.
This was Fairlady Farm — a lush green expanse that stretched as far as the eye could see. The moment she stepped closer, she could smell the earth, the rain, and the sweet scent of flowers — like honey mingled with peaches. Pale cream petals drifted through the air, lit by flecks of sunlight — not quite white, not quite orange… but something in between that she didn’t have a name for. In the distance, native cows let out gentle calls in greeting. Mr. Harry, the farmer, greeted her with a warm smile. He always had something to give her when she visited — perhaps a few eggs, a cut of beef, or her favorite strawberry milk. Second only to home… the place the girl visited most, ever since the day her father slipped quietly out of her world.
“Be sure to give this to your mother, alright?”
Before her eyes… Fairlady Farm had become nothing more than barren land stretching to the horizon. The wooden fence creaked softly, swaying with the cold wind… No trace of sweetness lingered in the air. The barn had collapsed halfway, its roof hanging loose. Snow blanketed everything. The sun… had long stopped shining here.
“Mr. Harry? Mr. Harry…”
The little girl called out softly...
But no voice answered from the wooden house.
The door hung broken, left ajar… the windows shattered into jagged shards.
She hesitated for a moment… then slowly stepped inside.
The fireplace was silent. Her breath turned to mist in the cold air.
The dining table stood still, untouched. A chair lay overturned on the floor.
Black stains, long dried, marked the wooden boards beneath her feet.
Her legs trembled slightly.
She stepped back, bumping into a shelf —
then quietly made her way into the kitchen.
A cracked window let the winter wind brush against her cheek.
The oven was empty… not even the faintest scent of leftover food remained.
She bent down and picked up an old iron pot with both her small hands.
It might be possible to boil snow for Mother to drink...
“Please, Mr. Harry...”
“...”
“You can come here anytime...”
A soft giggle floated through the air.
The little girl’s footsteps pattered as she ran around.
The girl glanced toward the corner of the room —
the old iron pot slipped from her small hands,
falling to the floor.
A resonant clang echoed through the stillness.
The girl covered her mouth with trembling hands as tears streamed down her face...
Her knees gave way, and she sank to the floor, sobbing.
The faint but sharp scent of blood lingered in the air.
Her eyes followed the trail of dried black stains...
stretching all the way to the corner of the room.
The farmer’s body lay curled up, motionless —
without even the sound of breath.
“Sigh...” Dimitri let out a long breath as he set his fishing rod down on the ground. The boy looked up, taking a deep, steady breath…
The farthest edge of sight…
As if someone above had drawn the horizon with a ruler — dividing the grey sky… from the black sea.
The port where the boy used to play almost every day…
was now just a floating mess of metal scraps — like garbage.
Not a single seagull in sight…
Where did they all go?
It smelled awful… like rust.
Oil?
Did someone pour it into the sea?
If it’s like this, won’t all the fish die too?
It might’ve been far from home, but to the boy… it was his whole world.
What could be better than fishing, watching the sunset, and wandering along a stretch of soft, white sand?
Dimitri stood up and brushed the snow from his pants, gathering his empty fishing rod… He walked away, head down. The cold wind struck his face. Each breath curled into a pale mist. The sunlight never reached this place… Through the fog, the boy could just make out the towering grey-white clocktower, stretching into the sky.
Just a dream… please…
FOOTSTEPS?!
The boy quickly ducked into a narrow alley. A man rushed past in a panic, his arms overflowing with a jumble of things — a loaf of bread, a kettle, a bottle of liquor — as if he’d grabbed everything within reach.
Before long…
a crowd came pouring out, spilling into the street.
In their hands were axes, shovels, and sickles.
What are they going to do…?
The boy peered out from the shadows.
A young woman lay motionless on the snowy white street.
Dimitri’s body trembled — shaken by fear.
The boy stepped back into the alley,
pressing his back against the icy wall.
He hesitated for a moment…
then held his breath,
and moved closer.
He dropped the fishing rod beside him,
kneeling down next to the stiffened body.
Her hair… reminded him of his mother.
Her wrist was icy cold… as if frozen solid.
She was clutching something tight.
The boy tried to pry her fingers open…
A box of matches!?
How long had she been asleep… really?
“Ma’am… Ma’am…”
A trembling, clear voice…
Tears welled up in his eyes…
The boy gently shook her with his small hands…
THE EXPLOSION TORE THROUGH THE SILENCE IN JAGGED SHARDS!
The shockwave nearly toppled him.
Ears ringing. Eyes lit with fire.
The factory — once proud and thriving — now lay in ashes.
SCREAMS — rising from every direction!
Flames… spreading fast, swallowing the city.
This place no longer wanted light.
It only wanted everything… to burn.
Dimitri rose to his feet.
The boy ran —
as fast as his legs could carry him —
past the sleeping woman’s body…
leaving her... as she is.
A crowd marched across the stone bridge,
weapons in hand —
crossing the black, frozen stream.
The bitter snow kept falling…
but it could not stop them.
Their numbers grew,
step by step,
until they stood —
at the foot of the steep stone stairs.
"WHAT WAS ONCE OURS..."
"WE WILL TAKE IT BACK!"
The crowd surged up the steps,
feet pounding through the snow —
scattering it in every direction.
Silence… was coming undone.
Until they stopped —
before the somber tower,
adorned with withered trees.
Thin, hollow-eyed soldiers stood guard.
“STAND BACK! WE DON’T WANT TO KILL ANYONE!”
A soldier raised his sword in warning.
“WE’RE ALREADY AS GOOD AS DEAD!”
An old man shouted back.
The men roared —
raising their axes high.
Women, young and old, cried out with all their might!
And in the heart of the crowd…
A little boy…
stood clutching a sickle.
Trembling all over.
The soldiers hesitated…
Eyes darting left… and right…
Hands gripping their weapons, trembling.
A ROAR THUNDERED THROUGH THE AIR!
The crowd surged forward.
The soldiers fought back with all their might.
People ran over fallen bodies before them —
rushing at the soldiers with wild fury!
The sound of blades slicing through flesh — THUCK! THUCK!
Piercing screams tore through the air,
mixed with the sickening crack of bone splitting.
Snow turned black…
Shadows of men and women fell…
their names lost to memory.
BANG! BANG!
The tower door groaned, nearly giving way!
A soldier slumped motionless, leaning against it.
On the other side…
inside the tower,
a young soldier stood still,
watching the black liquid seep beneath the door…
“It shouldn’t be like this...” he muttered.
The pounding blows echoed relentlessly.
Then the order came,
“PROTECT THIS CITY AT ALL COSTS!”
They drew their swords from their sheaths,
exchanging nervous glances…
CLANG!
A sword…
dropped to the ground,
echoing loudly.
“My mother might be out there.”
CRASH!
The crowd smashed through the door.
SHING! SHING!
The clash of blades slicing flesh, breaking bones, striking walls!
His bare hands — raised to the air.
Black liquid gushed from his throat.
His voice — lost in the chaos.
Before long…
the chaos came to an end.
Men and women… the elderly…
soldiers… lay scattered.
The floor was stained black.
A triumphant roar thundered through the air!
The crowd seized weapons, donned armor —
some taken from the armory…
others… stripped from the bodies of fallen soldiers.
They surged out, flooding from the tower,
their footsteps pounding like an earthquake.
In the dead of night…
a chilling wind swept through.
Snow drifted down slowly… like a gentle drizzle.
The sounds of chaos began to rise…
The town square… crowded with people once more.
The scent of smoke and waves of heat hung thick in the air.
Torches held high, the crowd passed by empty shops.
Cracked windows and creaking doors swayed with the wind.
No seafood, no pearls, no bracelets, and no trace of perfume remained.
Jessica squeezed Theo’s hand tightly…
She led her son out of the house,
guiding his small frame through the dense crowd.
“Mom…”
Theo’s voice trembled as they walked past
the body of a boy lying face down in the middle of the street.
Thin, pale.
A small group of children rushed in to search the body.
One of them pulled a piece of bread from the boy’s coat pocket.
Shouts and scuffles echoed through the street!
Jessica quickly tugged Theo forward, urging him to walk faster.
They passed a once-grand garden — now a sea of fire.
The heat kissed their faces…
Burning twigs and scorched leaves spun wildly on the winter wind.
The boy caught the scent of charred flesh…
Buildings around them began to catch fire — slowly, steadily.
A curtain of black smoke crept across the sky…
“THEO! RUN!”
THE THUNDER OF FOOTSTEPS ERUPTED —
LIKE A HERD OF FLEEING BEASTS!
Creak! Creak! Creak!
The knife slid silently through the lamb’s ribs.
The pale, tender meat paired perfectly with the silky mashed potatoes — like cream.
A salad and tomatoes rested atop a finely patterned tablecloth.
Apples, pears, and pomegranates were arranged all around — leaving hardly any space.
He sipped his wine contentedly…
A gentle breeze drifted in through the open window.
The curtains swayed softly, veiling the heat that lingered in the air…
Knock, knock, knock!
"Come in,"
Vorden said with his mouth still full.
"It's time, sir,"
Mikael said flatly.
CRASH!
The golden seahorse — emblem of the would-be kingdom’s wealth —
was shattered into glittering shards.
Hands pulled, shoved, and scrambled for the scattered gold…
just to buy themselves one more breath.
Shouts and cries echoed through the square…
The cold wind swept through…
the ruins, shattered beyond recognition.
A little girl… quietly slipped a shard of gold into her sock.
Thankfully, no one saw her.
No one tried to take it away.
There was no justice — not this winter.
Only those who fought for breath —
and lived to draw the next.
Jessica and Theo fled through the smoke and fire…
until they reached the city gates.
The crowd was overflowing —
and the buildings around them began to collapse….
The cracking of the structure echoed all around!
Heat pressed in from behind…
making it almost impossible to breathe.
They gripped each other’s hands tightly…
nails digging into skin,
pushing through the crowd… amid the chaos.
The cries of children pierced through the clamor and shouting.
“Someone… please…”
“Take her… with you.”
A woman’s hoarse voice rose.
“Anyone… please…”
She collapsed…
then lay still.
“Mom… Mom!”
The little girl’s clear voice rang out.
“No… Mom!”
But her mother… gave no answer.
“Please get up! Mom…!”
The little girl in the red coat shook the body harder and harder.
Tears melted onto the freezing snow.
SHE SCREAMED… SHATTERING THE AIR!
Then collapsed,
holding her mother tight until her body trembled and convulsed,
crying out in hopeless despair.
That voice pierced the biting cold—
But no one… heard it.
The crowd passed by…
as if the little girl meant nothing at all.
The boy caught a glimpse of the scene from the corner of his eye.
He stopped walking…
Held his breath,
slowly released his mother’s hand.
“THEO! THEO!”
Jessica shouted at the top of her lungs…
The boy pushed his way back through the crowd…
But no matter how many times he tried,
he couldn’t break through the mass of people blocking the street.
Still, he stubbornly pressed forward…
Again… and again
Teeth clenched, heart pounding with dread.
The boy fell to the ground.
Breath... barely coming.
The girl’s voice… still echoed through the air!
His hand scrambled in the snow… the cold numbing him to the bone.
Desperately clawing…
Pushing himself up.
Someone’s shoe brushed past his head…
The boy gasped for air once more…
He stood up…
And pushed forward again.
But was shoved down once more…
The boy was about to be swallowed by the snow,
becoming nothing more than fragments…
trampled underfoot by those passing by.
The sound of wailing...
grew more distant with every passing second.
The scene of the little girl slowly faded away.
The scent of cold… piercing deep into the bone.
The boy reached out...
toward that fading sound.
Tap… Tap… Tap…!
Footsteps echoed…
growing louder across the polished marble floor.
The chandelier’s light floated in the air like a waltz at a grand ball,
suspended in a hush that could shatter at any moment.
Vorden, clad in regal attire,
ascended the ornate staircase
and took his seat upon a throne polished to a mirror sheen,
its surface catching the flicker of candlelight.
Mikael held the tall, spired crown upon a velvet cushion,
surrounded by only a handful of silent nobles.
A storm of footsteps came crashing in… shaking the ground like a quake!
“O heavens above, who gaze down upon the earth,
Let the light of the divine blade shine forth —
Guide us in our darkest hour.
Descend in mercy, and shield this land from all evil.”
BANG! BANG!
A thunderous pounding shook the throne room doors!
“In the name of the Heavenly Light, Creator of sky and earth,
We summon the supreme power of the heavens
To descend upon the bearer of this throne.
May You dwell within the heart of the king,
Granting him steadfast justice,
And may the oath of this land remain unshaken.
Hear us, O winds of the heavens,
Fire of the light that guides the dawn,
And stars that watch over this realm.”
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Shouts and screams echoed deep inside!
“May the king who wears this crown
be a symbol of hope and strength,
the sovereign of the land blessed by the heavens.
O heavens above, grant peace to this realm.”
The Archbishop of Syrin, from the western reaches of the realm,
took the crown from Mikael with both hands.
The shadow of the crown fell upon Vorden’s forehead…
for a moment before it was officially his—
CRASH!
THE GREAT HALL DOORS SHATTERED TO PIECES!
The crowd surged forward…
ROARING LIKE A PACK OF FERAL BEASTS UNLEASHED!
Armed to the teeth, clad in full armor!
“Hurry! Your Grace!”
“Put it on now! I will be the king! No one will take it from me!”
Vorden roared.
Just a little more…
and the crown would rest fully upon his head—
The crowd surged wildly toward the throne.
The clash of metal piercing flesh — THUCK! THUCK!
Mikael scrambled, desperate to escape…
But the mob closed in.
Agonized screams echoed throughout the great hall!
White candle flames flickered slowly, casting a wavering glow…
Black ink dripped down the staircase…
The metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air…
The nobles lay strewn across the floor.
The Archbishop had fallen.
Vorden sat still.
His head tilted lifelessly upon the throne.
Eyes wide.
Black liquid trailing down his body.
The sound of chaos rose —
Endless.
The crown slipped…
Falling,
striking the floor with a hollow ring.
Flames crept through the hall like shadows,
as if the darkness itself
was devouring the bloodstained throne.
In the 221st year After the Conquest, they called him Vorden Heidel, the king who nearly was.
Though in the pages of history, he would be remembered by another name
— Vorden Heidel, the king who never was.
Syrin, the city that nearly became a kingdom...
fell — utterly, completely, and without a trace.
Well done, everyone ROFL!
we shall meet again in two weeks’ time.
It’s a true pleasure to be friends with you through the pages of this story,
