Achiry knelt in the White Court, her hands clasped, eyes lifted toward the ceiling. She whispered softly, “Please… give me time.” Then she stood, brushed off her dress, and looked toward the door—just as Fhersi, general of the city of Ikachary, entered. He saw her rise and leaned in to whisper:

  —“The council wants to see you. It’s urgent.”

  Fhersi spoke in a neutral tone. Achiry nodded, glancing briefly at her hands.

  —“I’ll be there in a moment.”

  She stared at her hand again, focusing on a ring. Fhersi noticed but said nothing. He waited as Achiry walked toward the door with determined steps. Her white veil concealed her face. As she stepped out, the tall stained glass windows overlooking the northern jungle of Ikachary seemed to come alive. The breeze stirred the leaves, and for a moment, Achiry felt hope. She didn’t want to see it all fall to an outsider with empty promises.

  They reached a secluded part of the palace, far from the chaos of servants and soldiers.

  A spiral staircase of white and gold led them down to a subterranean corridor. Murals of prophecy lined the walls, painted with desert dust and lagoon water. The air was heavy with ancient presence—this was where past leaders made decisions. Now it was Achiry’s turn.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  They entered a chamber with a stained glass window at the far end. It depicted a man holding a sphere of light. Beneath it, in Ishimol script, were the words: “He will come to bring hope.” The only light came from the distant glow of the Eshiku lagoons.

  Inside, several high-ranking figures sat around a rectangular table draped in crimson cloth, embroidered with golden Ishimol letters that shimmered in the dim light. An elder gestured to an empty seat for Achiry.

  —“Very well… then answer this: who is the foreigner?”

  The speaker was a woman of regal bearing. Her gray eyes locked onto Achiry’s. Achiry didn’t flinch—she simply glanced at her hands.

  —“The foreigner claims to be the Zhiary All. That title isn’t what matters. What matters is that he already controls the South… and now the northern tribes.”

  Achiry sighed. Fhersi spoke next, addressing the council.

  —“That’s no longer the issue. Achiry has handled that herself. What matters now is the water reserves. That’s why we called this council.”

  A young man with silver hair leaned toward Achiry, scanning her with sharp eyes and noting her discomfort.

  —“Well, Nisima, it seems you haven’t heard. The water-producing planets have suffered multiple Fhercon attacks. They’re trying to reclaim power.”

  He paused, waiting for Achiry to respond. When she didn’t, he leaned back in his seat.

  —“But it seems you, Nisima, are more worried about that so-called messiah than what truly matters. The people—not cheap prophecies.”

  Achiry looked at him. He yawned and reclined in his chair.

  —“Of course I care about my people. Why else do you think we’ve had no attacks for two moons? Because I took care of it.”

  She breathed deeply and pointed at him.

  —“So… are you done speaking?”

  Fhersi rang a small bell gently.

  —“The council meeting is over.”

  He stood and waited by the door for Achiry.