The grand throne room was a place of power, its marble floors polished to perfection and banners bearing the royal crest hanging high. Yet tonight, it was a place of betrayal.
I sat on my throne, a crown heavy with years of duty resting on my brow. My people had called me a tyrant, though they once revered me as their savior. The wars I fought, the alliances I forged—all were for them. But the whispers of treachery had grown louder, and now, those I trusted most stood before me, daggers hidden behind their words.
"My King," General Aldrin spoke, his voice steady, his eyes cold. "The council has deliberated, and we have come to a decision."
I leaned forward, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. "A decision? On what matter?"
Beside him, my trusted advisor, Calen, avoided my gaze. Even my closest friend could not meet my eyes. The truth struck me like a blade before they even uttered the words.
"Your reign must end," Aldrin declared. "For the good of the kingdom."
Laughter, bitter and hollow, escaped my lips. "The good of the kingdom? You dare speak of the kingdom while plunging a dagger into its heart?"
The knights at my side stepped back, their loyalty crumbling under the weight of fear and greed. The hall grew colder, the air heavy with betrayal.
"Do not make this harder than it must be," Calen said, his tone pleading. "The people suffer under your rule. The wars, the taxes, the executions—it is too much."
"The people suffer because they are weak!" I roared, rising to my feet. "I gave them safety, prosperity! And you—" My gaze swept over the assembly of traitors. "You enjoyed the spoils of my labor. Now you would throw me to the wolves?"
"It is over," Aldrin said, stepping forward. His hand rested on the hilt of his blade. "Relinquish the crown peacefully, or we will take it by force."
The room fell silent. My vision tunneled, rage blinding me to all but the faces of those who dared betray me. My generals. My advisors. My loyal knights. Each had been a piece of my empire, each a trusted ally, and each now stood ready to strike me down.
"I see now," I said, my voice calm despite the storm brewing within. "This was never about the people. This is about your greed, your thirst for power."
Aldrin unsheathed his sword. "You leave us no choice."
The first strike came from the side—a blade piercing my ribs. I staggered, blood staining the golden embroidery of my robes. Calen's trembling hand held the dagger, his face pale.
"Forgive me," he whispered, though there was no sincerity in his words.
Another blade, this time from behind. Pain erupted through my body, yet I did not fall. Instead, I turned to face my killers, my vision blurring as the life drained from me.
"You think this is the end?" I hissed, the taste of blood on my tongue. "You think you can kill a king and escape judgment?"
As the room spun, a voice echoed in the depths of my mind—a whisper, ancient and dark.
"Will you let them win"
I faltered, collapsing to my knees. The traitors closed in, their faces a blur. The voice grew louder, resonating within me.
"Swear to me and I will give you power. Swear to me and you shall rise again"
"What....what are you?"
"I am the crown of Shadows. And you.....are my chosen king. Do you accept."
The pain faced, replaced by a cold, dark power coiling around my soul. I looked up, my lips curling into a bloodied grin.
"I accept"
The world went black, but not before I saw the fear in their eyes— the first of many victories to come.