The castle had returned to silence, but it was not the silence of peace. It was thick, heavy… as if even the air were holding its breath.
High in the eastern tower, where night felt deepest and the windows looked out over the sleeping city, the young king sat alone in his study. Around him, the ancient books that had once comforted him as a child offered no answers now. Not even the painted monarchs of old, whose gazes seemed to watch him in silent judgment.
At the center of the room, on the glass desk, the holo-message flickered blue. The virtual label still pulsed, and on it, the word "Protect them", a message addressed to the king.
He pressed the command again. The image restarted. Once more, the long list of names appeared. Hundreds of children. Orphans. Some had medical notes, others were marked "transferred," "missing," "deceased." And then, the video.
A woman with long hair, sitting on a blanket, sang a soft lullaby. In her lap, a three-year-old boy laughed, his arms wrapped around her neck. She caressed him gently, while the wind rustled the curtains of an open window, carrying birdsong from the outside.
The king froze, just as he always did at that part. Something about that child… his eyes, his smile…
"I want to see her again."
The final words of the message struck him with renewed force.
The modified subject.
The attacker at the castle.
The one who groaned like someone trapped inside a machine.
"He wasn't just any enemy…" the king whispered, his throat tight. "He was him… the child from the video. That little boy."
He stared at the frozen projection. The boy's smile. The mother's expression, pure devotion.
Who had she been? Where was she now?
What had happened to that child to turn him into a weapon?
He rested his elbows on the desk and buried his face in his hands.
"Who did this to you?" he asked the silence. "Who stole your childhood… your humanity?"
And then he understood the true weight of the message.
It wasn't a threat.
It was a cry for help.
The plea of someone who, despite being irreversibly altered, still held on to a memory so powerful it could defy the programming that controlled him. That message didn't come from a machine.
It came from someone who still remembered what it felt like to be loved.
Someone who, deep inside, was still human.
The king took a deep breath. His gaze hardened. He was no longer the serene young monarch with clean hands and an easy smile. He had seen too much. And now… he had to act.
"I won't allow it," he murmured. "I won't let another child end up like this. Not one more."
He rose from his desk, a new resolve in his step.
The time had come to prepare.
Not just to confront a hidden threat…
But to save the boy who still existed, buried somewhere beneath metal, programming, and scars.