✧༺ Chapter Eight ༻✧
In the grand palace of Wysteria, the night of Prince Edian's birthday was an occasion no less splendid than the greatest royal events. The royal hall glowed with golden light from hundreds of candles hanging from massive chandeliers, while the walls, adorned with paintings of the kingdom's glories, reflected a vivid image of majesty and power.
Tables stretched across the hall, draped in silk cloths, topped with lavish dishes overflowing with the finest foods: roasted venison seasoned with rare spices, birds stuffed with dried fruits, and fish cooked with herbs from the kingdom's forests. Crystal goblets brimmed with Antonio Rod wine, the drink everyone eagerly awaited each year.
Laughter and cheerful chatter filled the hall, while young Prince Edian danced among the guests, laughing innocently, watched by his mother, Queen Rosaria, with eyes brimming with pride.
When the queen raised her cup, all followed in unison, their voices rising in a collective toast:
"To the prince of the kingdom, to Edian!"
But the moment the wine touched their lips, hell began.
At first, it seemed minor. A knight clutched his throat as though choking. Another fell to his knees, crimson froth spilling from his mouth. Within seconds, the royal hall had turned into a theater of death.
The strongest knights struggled against the poison, but its effect was profound. The medicines Martin had once granted the kingdom kept them from instant death, but could not save them all. The sound of shattering goblets mingled with cries of agony, as more men collapsed, writhing in torment.
Yet the true catastrophe was not the poison alone.
The moment the first knight fell, the Blackriver Mercenaries and the Fourth Minister's followers emerged from their hiding places within the palace and across the kingdom. They had been waiting for the signal. In an instant, the banquet became a massacre.
Among the servants, men with fox-like eyes appeared, dressed in pitch-black garments, their swords drawn mercilessly. One drove his dagger into a knight's throat before he could even lift his weapon, while another stabbed a noble in the chest, stealing his ring seconds later.
The mercenaries knew their craft. They targeted the remaining elite guards first, then spread through the palace, slaughtering without remorse. They were hybrids of goblins and men, hard as stone, their faces smeared with soot and hatred.
Outside the palace, chaos erupted in the capital's streets. Flames rose to the sky, women and children screamed, and the true invasion had begun from within the kingdom itself.
In the throne hall, where Queen Rosaria sheltered her young son, chunks of the palace fell as flames spread higher. Her eyes blazed with fury as her arms wrapped around Edian, trying to soothe him though her heart thundered with fear.
Before her stood the Fourth Minister.
"Look at you, Rosaria," he said in a calm voice as he strode through the blazing hall. "A crowned queen, yet powerless. Is this Wysteria's glory? To die amidst the ashes of your own palace?"
Rosaria did not reply, but lifted her chin in defiance. She did not fear death, yet her eyes burned with a deadly resolve.
"You thought poison alone would end us?" she said firmly despite her hurried breaths. "You should have known—a kingdom built by the great does not fall so easily."
The Fourth Minister laughed, his eyes brimming with scorn.
"I did not come to end the kingdom. I came to end you. You and your little son."
He raised his hand, blue flames of death flickering between his fingers.
"No!" Rosaria cried. Before he could unleash his strike, a sword of lightning clashed against him—this was the lightning wielder, Viserys, captain of the knights.
The Fourth Minister sneered:
"How did the poison not claim you?"
Viserys replied:
"I never drink, you fool. And I always despised that cursed merchant and his wares. Today I realize I was right all along…"
The elven Fourth Minister laughed with arrogance:
"You gain nothing, human. If the poison does not kill you, then I will."
The battle began. Lightning and blue fire collided in the royal hall, splitting the ground beneath them, shaking the walls to ruin. Viserys fought fiercely, buying the queen any chance to escape.
But the Fourth Minister was strong.
With a sudden fiery strike, he hurled Viserys across the hall. His body slammed against the marble, collapsing motionless.
Rosaria gasped. But before the minister could move to slay her, the roar of an ancient lightning storm filled the hall…