The forest was quiet as I held my breath and drew my bow.

  Around me, the other hunters crouched among the thick bushes, arrows ready. Sunlight barely slipped through the dense canopy above, casting a faint green glow over the clearing.

  A deer stepped cautiously into the open.

  Majestic. Unaware.

  Before I could release my arrow, another one cut through the air with a sharp whistle.

  It struck the deer cleanly in the neck.

  I released mine a heartbeat later.

  The arrow flew straight into its flank, ensuring the animal collapsed moments later.

  I moved quickly toward the fallen prey, inspecting the body before helping drag it toward the wagon waiting nearby.

  “Well done, Malena,” I said with a grin. “Not bad for your first day hunting.”

  Malena smiled proudly.

  “Of course, dear,” she replied playfully. “It’s only natural to be this good when you have such an excellent teacher, don’t you think?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Around us, the other hunters were already gathering their own catches. It was time to return before the forest decided to remind us who truly ruled it.

  The wagon creaked softly as the horse pulled it along the forest path.

  The steady rhythm of the wheels and the horse’s hooves blended with the quiet sounds of the woods.

  When we finally crossed the shadowy threshold of the forest, sunlight burst across our faces.

  “Ahh… finally out,” one of the hunters said with relief.

  Even the bravest among us never forgot to respect that forest.

  “Lord Valdor, Lady Malena,” another hunter said. “If you wish, we can bring the game to the village and deliver your share later.”

  Malena shook her head politely.

  “Oh, it’s no trouble. We were planning to stop by the guild to see an acquaintance anyway.”

  When we entered the village, the familiar chaos of the market greeted us.

  Merchants shouting prices. Children running between stalls. The smell of bread and roasted meat filling the air.

  The merchant guild building stood at the center of it all — a sturdy two-story structure built from thick logs, with a wooden balcony overlooking the square.

  “Oh! Well look who it is!” a voice called from the entrance.

  Meinol stood there with his usual overflowing energy.

  “Valdor and Malena!”

  “It’s good to see you as lively as ever, my friend,” I said. “Where’s Emila?”

  “Oh, she’s resting at home,” Meinol replied with a cheerful laugh. “The baby will be here soon, so I’d rather she take it easy.”

  Then he looked at us with a mischievous grin.

  “And what about you two? Ever thought about having children? I imagine your firstborn will arrive soon enough!”

  Malena blushed slightly at the comment.

  “I hope Emila is doing well,” she said politely. “I’d love to visit her soon.”

  “Come now, Meinol,” I said with a chuckle. “Children will come when they come… I suppose.”

  We shared a laugh before disappearing back into the colors and noise of the market.

  The young man we had captured days ago now stood guard at the main entrance.

  It seemed he had only been dragged into trouble by the man I had killed with that spell.

  After that incident, the days passed quietly.

  We hunted.

  We explored the forest.

  And when we returned, Malena and I spent our evenings together, enjoying the simple peace of our lives.

  Time moved on.

  Year 968 of the War King Calendar

  Season of Mirun — Month of Transition (Autumn)

  The cold air of Mirun wrapped around me, carrying the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves.

  In the distance, mountains slept beneath grey mist.

  The red and gold leaves of autumn contrasted against the dark wood of my cabin as the wind brushed gently across the porch.

  As I did every morning, I sat outside with a cup of hot tea in my hands, watching the wind move through the trees.

  Then something broke the calm.

  Far down the path leading from the village, I saw someone running.

  Fast.

  Too fast.

  I stood up slowly.

  A tight feeling settled in my chest.

  “Feruk?” I called out. “What’s wrong? Why are you running like that?”

  The young man finally reached the cabin, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath.

  “Lord… Dorien…” he managed between breaths.

  “He asked… for you and Lady Malena… to come to the mansion immediately.”

  “It’s urgent.”

  Footsteps behind me made me turn.

  Malena had stepped outside, adjusting a light cloak around her shoulders.

  Her calm expression now carried a hint of concern.

  “My father?” she asked. “What could he want so urgently? Did something happen?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Instead, I walked back into the cabin.

  Something about this felt wrong.

  I picked up my old armor — the one that had seen far too many battles.

  The leather straps creaked as I fastened them.

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  My sword slid into its familiar place at my side.

  Some instincts never disappear.

  The cold morning air accompanied us on our way back to the village.

  Mist slowly dissolved beneath the first rays of sunlight, yet the chill lingered, slipping into every corner of the settlement. The stone streets that now lined the village reminded me of earlier days, when this place had been little more than a cluster of scattered huts.

  Nostalgia.

  Sometimes it felt as if everything I had built here could be swept away by a single strong wind.

  When we arrived at the mansion, Yliena was waiting for us. Her gaze was sharp, her voice urgent as she motioned for us to follow.

  “This way. The council meeting is about to begin. We don’t have time to waste.”

  She led us through a long corridor. Before we even reached the chamber, raised voices echoed from beyond the doors. The closer we got, the clearer the argument became.

  Inside, Dorien and the council of elders were deep in a heated discussion, their voices overlapping in a storm of disagreement.

  Elbus stood near the table, his long beard trembling with barely restrained anger.

  “This is outrageous, Dorien!” he snapped. “Completely unacceptable! How can someone like him sit on the throne? And what has happened to the princess?”

  His face had turned red, and his hands trembled as he spoke.

  Dorien, however, remained composed.

  “We still don’t have all the information, Elbus,” he replied firmly. “We must keep our heads clear. The situation is complicated, and shouting will solve nothing.”

  Velko leaned forward, disbelief etched across his face.

  “The other lines of succession,” he said. “If the princess is missing, then Marissa should be next in line. What in the gods’ names happened?”

  Dorien let out a slow breath.

  “According to the reports… she herself accepted that he would become the new emperor.”

  That was enough.

  I stepped forward, interrupting the discussion.

  “Forgive the interruption,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. “But what exactly is happening here?”

  Malena stood beside me, her expression tense.

  “A new emperor…?” she murmured.

  Dorien’s stern expression softened slightly as he turned toward us.

  “Valdor. Malena. You are both members of this council,” he said gravely. “You deserve to know.”

  He paused before continuing.

  “Five days ago, Emperor Agner Antalius III died.”

  The words hung heavily in the room.

  “A new emperor has since emerged.”

  He looked directly at me.

  “Sargón Blame.”

  The name struck me like a stone dropped into still water.

  A sharp pain pierced my chest, and for a moment the world blurred around me.

  That name…

  Impossible.

  It couldn’t be him.

  Dorien noticed my reaction immediately.

  “Valdor,” he said carefully. “What is it? Do you know this man?”

  I swallowed, forcing myself to remain composed while dark memories stirred within my mind.

  But this was not the moment.

  “We will speak of that later,” I said quietly. “Please… continue. What else does the report say?”

  Elbus, now noticeably calmer, adjusted his spectacles and unfolded a parchment he had been holding.

  He cleared his throat before reading aloud.

  “Members of the honorable council of the Empire of Agnorag, we have received an official letter from Sanctum Milandir Dronos.

  It states that Emperor Agner Antalius III was assassinated during an attempted rebellion. Princess Aaura Ludel Antalius is currently missing.

  According to the Royal Guard, Sargón Blame has declared that, by the emperor’s own command, he is the rightful successor.

  Several noble houses and factions support his claim… though many others oppose it.

  Signed,

  Sanctum Milandir Dronos.”

  Malena stared in disbelief, anger flashing across her face.

  “That can’t be true. Is that all? There’s no more information?”

  Elbus slowly shook his head.

  “No, my lady. That is all we have… for now.”

  Before anyone else could respond, hurried footsteps echoed through the chamber. The doors opened and Yliena stepped inside, breaking the tense silence that had settled over the room.

  “My lord,” she said quickly, slightly out of breath, “forgive the interruption, but a letter has just arrived. It bears a signature… a single ‘V.’”

  Dorien raised an eyebrow.

  “A ‘V,’ you say…” he murmured before glancing toward Elbus.

  “Elbus. Please read it.”

  Elbus broke the wax seal and unfolded the parchment. His expression shifted as his eyes moved across the first lines.

  “My lord Dorien,” he began reading aloud, “forgive the quality of my handwriting. Since leaving the capital, I have devoted my efforts to protecting the princess. I cannot reveal our location, but she remains safe under my protection.

  If news of the new emperor has already reached you, then know this—what you have heard are lies.

  Sargón led the Knights of Roak in an attack from within the palace itself, assassinating the emperor in what we now know as the Battle of the Usurpation.

  This information will reach all those loyal to the Antalius bloodline.

  Remain safe until the princess is ready.

  Signed,

  V. Valerius.”

  A murmur rippled through the chamber.

  Dorien frowned thoughtfully.

  “So… Vlad is with the princess,” he said quietly. “It had better be true.”

  His gaze then shifted toward Valdor, who had remained silent ever since Sargón’s name had been spoken.

  “Valdor,” Dorien continued, his voice steady but firm, “it is time you told us what you know about Sargón.”

  All eyes turned toward him.

  Valdor drew a slow breath, feeling the weight of the room pressing down upon him. Old memories stirred in the depths of his mind—memories he had long tried to bury.

  But there was no point hiding them now.

  “Very well,” he said at last. “I will tell you everything I know.”

  For a moment, the air in the chamber seemed to grow heavier.

  “My family descends from a lineage that served the Monastery of Eddrem for generations,” he began. “We were devoted to the goddess Eshia.

  Sargón was not always the monster he is today.”

  He paused.

  “In his youth, he was one of the monastery’s most respected members. In fact, he led the Protectors of the Sacred Book of Eddrem. Only the Keeper of the Book, Trufarius Andols, stood above him.

  Sargón was a man of great virtue… or so we all believed.”

  A faint bitterness crept into his voice.

  “He disappeared for a long time. And when he finally returned… he was no longer the same man.

  Something inside him had changed.”

  Valdor lowered his gaze.

  “He came back with the fury of a demon.”

  His voice trembled slightly.

  “One night, while we slept, he unleashed a massacre. He slaughtered the entire monastery without mercy.

  Not even the children were spared.”

  A heavy silence settled across the chamber.

  “The goddess Eshia intervened as best she could,” Valdor continued quietly. “Using what power she had to spirit away those who still lived.

  I was only a child.”

  His hands tightened slightly.

  “I hid… terrified. I watched as Master Trufarius disappeared in the chaos.

  I did not have the courage to search for him.

  I ran.”

  No one spoke.

  The silence that followed was suffocating.

  The members of the council exchanged uneasy glances. Even the most experienced among them—men who believed they had heard every tale of betrayal and bloodshed—were visibly shaken.

  Malena was the first to break the silence.

  “Sargón…” she said softly. “He killed his own people? His own order?”

  Valdor nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on the floor.

  “Yes.

  And from that day on… I never heard of him again.”

  He lifted his gaze.

  “Until now.”

  Dorien, who had listened in silence until that moment, finally stepped forward. His expression had grown darker.

  “I met Sargón during my years of service in the capital,” he said. “In the great walled city of Agnor. At the time, I served as a tutor and investigator to the emperor.

  That was when I first encountered a young soldier who stood out among the rest.

  Sargón.”

  He paused, searching his memory.

  “I remember the day he saved the princess from an assassination attempt. A madman had tried to take her life, but Sargón intervened and stopped him.

  It was an act of unquestionable bravery.”

  Dorien exhaled slowly.

  “As a reward, he was appointed to the Royal Guard.

  From that moment on, he rose quickly through the ranks of the empire. He became a man many trusted… until everything changed.”

  He glanced toward the council.

  “And now the only thing we know for certain… is that he sits upon the throne.”

  The room fell silent once more.

  Too many questions.

  Too few answers.

  But one truth had become impossible to ignore.

  Sargón Blame was no mere usurper.

  He was a man capable of betrayal, manipulation, and destruction without remorse.

  Valdor murmured under his breath.

  “The massacre… the betrayal… and now the throne. What in the gods’ names is he planning?”

  Elbus adjusted his glasses thoughtfully.

  “This situation demands careful analysis,” he said. “As Valdor mentioned, everything has happened with alarming speed. We do not yet know what Sargón intends to do.

  However… whether we like it or not, he now sits upon the imperial throne.”

  He glanced around the chamber.

  “The real question is how the neighboring kingdoms will react once they learn that the Antalius no longer rule the empire.”

  Dorien crossed his arms.

  “True,” he said gravely. “Anything we say now would be speculation. But a man like Sargón…”

  He paused, his gaze hardening as he studied the maps spread across the table.

  “We cannot expect his rule to bring peace.”

  Another heavy silence followed.

  “If he rose to power through betrayal,” Dorien continued, “then we must prepare for the worst.”

  The council fell into uneasy contemplation.

  The news was grim, and the future uncertain under the rule of a man as dangerous as Sargón Blame.

  Thus ended the council meeting of Tufnar.

  Though life in the village continued with the appearance of normalcy, the calm was only an illusion.

  Soon enough, the world would begin to feel the sharp fangs of the new emperor.

  Rumors began to spread like the cold winds of winter.

  Villages and towns across the northern territories were being attacked without warning. Fire and death became the messengers of a reign born from chaos.

  The people whispered in fear as the news traveled from settlement to settlement, spreading like a dark storm across the land.

  Emperor Sargón Blame wasted no time.

  His first campaign was driven by a relentless hunt for an object of immense power: the Sacred Book of Eddrem, the very same artifact he had once sworn to protect before betraying the monastery.

  His armies moved with ruthless efficiency, raiding every settlement in their path while demanding answers about the book’s whereabouts.

  For those who knew the truth, this search was not merely about power.

  It was about control.

  The book was not simply a sacred relic—it was a key.

  A key to ancient secrets capable of changing the fate of the empire…

  …and perhaps the fate of the world itself.