The council chamber was filled with the low hum of conversation as Kalen stepped through the large wooden doors. A wave of voices greeted him, but his mind was elsewhere. He barely registered the formal greetings from the lords and advisors, his gaze fixed on the grand table in the center of the room, where the kingdom's future was debated by men and women whose concerns felt insignificant compared to what he was about to face.
"Your Highness," Lord Caelum, the head of the council, greeted him with a bow. "We were beginning to worry."
Kalen nodded but offered no response. He had heard enough of their empty words about trade agreements, border skirmishes, and taxes. His eyes swept the room, catching the concerned expressions of those who would look to him for leadership. But their concerns didn't feel as urgent as the ones that gnawed at him from within.
"The state of the kingdom," Lord Caelum continued, sensing Kalen's distraction, "requires your attention. We need your guidance."
Kalen raised a hand, silencing the room. "I am well aware of the state of the kingdom, my lord. But I have more important matters at hand."
He turned his gaze to Lady Elira, who had quietly taken her seat at the far end of the table, her eyes still bearing the weight of their conversation earlier. The tension between them hung like a thick fog, but Kalen refused to address it here, not in front of the council.
"We'll keep this brief," Kalen continued, his voice sharp and unwavering. "I will do my duty as king, but my personal investigation into the fall of the empire must take priority. What my father uncovered—what he left behind—it will define our future more than any decree we pass here."
Lord Caelum looked taken aback. "Your Highness, we understand your grief, but we cannot afford to neglect the kingdom's needs while you chase after—"
Kalen stood straighter, his voice rising with a sharp edge. "You will not tell me what I can or cannot pursue, Lord Caelum! This kingdom's fate is tied to more than the politics of the moment. It is tied to the truth of what happened all those years ago. We cannot move forward if we don't understand why the empire fell."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words crushing the usual chatter. Lord Caelum's face tightened, but he wisely chose not to press further.
Lady Elira watched Kalen carefully, her expression unreadable, as the councilors exchanged wary glances. They had all seen the king's stubbornness before, but this was different—this was something darker, something far more dangerous.
Kalen felt the familiar prickling sensation at the back of his neck, the sense that something unseen was watching him. He turned his gaze toward the windows, the marble walls of the chamber gleaming in the soft light of the afternoon sun. Outside, the castle grounds were quiet, serene. But Kalen knew that peace would not last.
"I am done here," Kalen said abruptly. "We will reconvene tomorrow. For now, I have other matters to attend to."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and left the council chamber, his footsteps echoing once again through the castle halls. The air felt heavier now, laden with the knowledge that whatever he was about to uncover could change everything. But there was no turning back.
As he made his way back toward the archives, the shadows seemed deeper, the silence more oppressive. A feeling of foreboding clung to him, as though something ancient and forgotten was stirring in the depths of the castle. The secrets of the empire were buried deep, but he was determined to unearth them, no matter the cost.
But as Kalen approached the archives, a sense of unease gnawed at him once again. The doors stood before him, old and imposing, as if daring him to enter. He hesitated for a moment, remembering Elira's warning. The forces at play were ancient, and whatever his father had uncovered, it was not something to be taken lightly.
With a steadying breath, Kalen pushed the doors open.
Inside, the smell of old parchment and dust filled the air, the dim light casting long shadows across the rows of forgotten texts. His father's journals lay at the far end, waiting for him, as they always had. Kalen could almost hear his father's voice, urging him to continue his work, to finish what had been started.
But now, more than ever, Kalen wondered if he was prepared for what lay ahead.
As he walked deeper into the room, a sudden chill swept over him. It wasn't the cold of the stone walls or the draft from the open windows—it was something else, something... unnatural.
And then, a whisper echoed through the chamber. A voice from the darkness.
"Kalen…"
The sound of his name was unmistakable.
Kalen froze.