When we reached a certain point, the stewards in the procession came to a stop, taking their positions to signal they would go no further. I was still trying to figure out where I belonged when Marcus caught my eye and gestured for me to follow him and the king, who were already making their way into the grand courtroom. Quickly, I hurried to catch up, as they were already a few steps ahead.
As we entered the grand courtroom, the faint sound of footsteps behind me caught my attention. My head was lowered slightly as I walked behind Marcus, who trailed behind the king, but the sound made me lift my head.
Looking ahead, I saw a row of men, none of them younger than fifty, standing and bowing slightly as a sign of respect to the king. They were dressed in rich, purple robes that shimmered with authority. Their faces were marked with deep wrinkles, their silver hair slicked back or thinning with age. Each man's eyes held a quiet but unmistakable wisdom, honed over years of experience in their respective fields. Some had sharp, calculating gazes that hinted at years of political maneuvering, while others looked more thoughtful, their expressions softened by their age and long service to the kingdom.
These were the king's ministers, masters of law, finance, diplomacy, and war—each carrying the weight of their responsibilities with an air of quiet dignity.
Finally, we made our way through the center of the room, approaching the throne. It was an imposing structure, carved from dark wood with intricate gold detailing that shimmered in the dim light. The high back of the throne rose majestically, adorned with symbols of the kingdom's power and heritage, while velvet cushions in deep royal purple provided a touch of comfort against its regal, yet austere frame. It stood on a raised platform, making it the focal point of the entire courtroom.
The king ascended the few steps that elevated the throne above the rest of the room and seated himself with quiet authority.
Marcus and I, meanwhile, took our places in a shadowed corner of the room, almost blending into the background, observing everything while remaining nearly invisible.
"Commence," the king uttered, his voice carrying a note of reluctance, as if this courtroom were the last place he wished to be.
A man, noticeably younger than the other ministers, stepped forward with a scroll in hand. He approached the throne, bowing deeply before speaking.
"There are two matters to be addressed in court today.
First, a report on the state of the kingdom regarding the creeping darkness."
He paused briefly before continuing, his voice heavy with unease. He recounted the unsettling events plaguing the kingdom—people witnessing strange figures that appeared and vanished without warning, creeping shadows that seemed to take on a life of their own, and other, far more terrifying occurrences.
As he read from the scroll, the tension in the room grew palpable. Everyone could feel the weight of his words. I glanced around and saw the fear in their eyes. The ministers, once filled with wisdom and certainty, now stared ahead, their gazes clouded with dread. Even the guards, who had stood rigidly at attention, now seemed to shrink in their positions, unnerved by the growing sense of doom.
Beside me, Marcus—who always carried himself with unwavering strength—was not immune to the fear that gripped the room. Though he tried to mask it, I could see the apprehension creeping into his expression, a rare crack in his usually calm. He had never shown weakness around me before, but even he couldn't completely hide the weight of what was happening.
The shift in the room's atmosphere was undeniable. A cold realization washed over me: the fate of the kingdom rested in my hands. The darkness was spreading, growing stronger with each passing day. I knew I had to act quickly. But what haunted me most was the uncertainty. Would my actions save the kingdom, or plunge it further into ruin, as the prophecy warned? The fear gnawed at me, deep and relentless.
After finishing his report on the kingdom's situation, the man set down the scroll he had been reading and picked up another. He had completed the first matter for discussion and was now preparing to present the second.
But before he began, a heavy silence fell over the room. I noticed him glancing nervously at the other ministers, as if searching for their approval or permission to continue. Some gave him slight nods, urging him forward, while others looked away, hesitant and clearly uncomfortable.
Suddenly, a loud "Gbam!" echoed through the hall as the king slammed his hand on the small desk beside him. His eyes burned red with fury, his face so fierce it seemed to radiate heat, daring anyone to meet his gaze. The king's anger was unmistakable, and it froze the room in absolute silence.
"Second… secondly," the speaker stammered, clearing his throat, catching the king's unspoken command to continue. His voice shook slightly as he read aloud. "Now that we have a new king on the throne, as tradition demands, we must fulfill the custom within one year… maximum. A new queen must be crowned."
He spoke as if the words themselves were difficult to say, his voice trailing off under the weight of the king's stare. After finishing, he carefully stepped back into the line of ministers, trying to blend in as if hoping to disappear into the shadows. His face was pale, his posture tense, and he kept his eyes down, avoiding the king's gaze.
The room held its breath in an intense silence; no one dared speak, no one moved. The king's expression was unreadable, but the fury in his eyes held a warning none of us could ignore.
Then, without a word, the king stood, his eyes narrowed in anger, and stormed out of the hall, leaving us all behind to grapple with our own rising fears. We stood in stunned silence, unsure of what this meant for the kingdom—but certain it was only the beginning of something far darker.