The princess lay on her knees, her oath whispered in trembling breath.Azeron's crimson gaze pierced through her soul, etching his chains upon her spirit. Shadows swirled like crowns above her head, and in that moment—her name burned anew.
Azeron:"From this night forward, you are not merely Estrellia's daughter. You are mine. You are the tongue that will speak my truth, the hand that will carve my name across kingdoms. Tell me, child—what is your name?"
The girl raised her head. Her eyes glowed faintly red now, shadows dancing within their depths. Her lips curved into a cruel smile.
"Liona."
Azeron's laughter filled the chamber, deep, venomous, echoing like the cracking of heavens.
Azeron:"Then remember this, Liona. When you return to your gilded cage, you will not hide behind whispers. You will not bend to their rules. You will spread my name as iron and fire, as truth carved into bone. They will not forget it. They will not escape it.
Tell them this: Azeron is no savior. Azeron is no shepherd. Azeron is no god of mercy. I am the god of this world, and I will help no one but myself. To those who resist me, I am ruin. To those who obey me, I am eternity. To those who defy me—"
He leaned forward, his shadow consuming the very air around her.
"—I am death."
The shadows shattered, and Liona collapsed onto the velvet floor of her royal chambers. Her breath was ragged, her hands trembling. But her eyes—her eyes burned with purpose.
For the first time, she no longer felt like the caged bird.For the first time, she felt the chains on her wings snap apart.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her golden hair framed a face no longer meek, no longer gentle."Not princess… Queen."
Her voice was steady now, sharper than any dagger.
The next morning, Estrellia's court gathered in its grand hall. Nobles laughed and whispered, their goblets raised high in false cheer. The king sat on his marble throne, weary but prideful, his son beside him—head held high as though the crown already belonged to him.
Liona entered with slow steps. Her silken gown swept across the marble, her shadow stretching long behind her. The court turned, their smiles fading as they felt something unnatural in the air.
She stopped before them, her voice carrying like thunder through the hall.
"Hear me, Estrellia. I am no longer your silent daughter, your forgotten princess. I am the voice of truth, the herald of the one who now rules this world. His name is Azeron."
The nobles gasped. Priests clutched their beads, muttering prayers. The king's face darkened. "Liona, what madness is this—"
She silenced him with a glare, her voice rising like a storm.
"Azeron is the god you denied, the god you spat upon. He is not here to love you. He is not here to heal you. He is not here to grant you mercy. He is power made flesh, and his will is law.
Obey him, and live beneath his shadow. Defy him, and drown in it."
The court erupted into chaos. Priests screamed heresy. Guards reached for their swords. But Liona did not falter. She raised her hand, and for an instant, her eyes glowed crimson. The torches along the walls flared black, shadows twisting unnaturally. The air grew heavy, suffocating.
The nobles fell silent.
She smiled.
"Spread his name. Whisper it in your temples. Carve it into your banners. Etch it upon your bones. For Azeron is not coming.
He is already here."
Far away, upon the Island of Nex, Azeron sat upon his throne. His crimson eyes flickered with amusement as he watched Liona's defiance shake her kingdom.
Azeron:"Good, little bird. Sing my song. Let the world choke on my name until they cannot sleep without it. Let their fear become my crown."
The storm above him thundered in approval.
And thus, the first herald of Azeron spread his name across the world—no longer a whisper, but a proclamation.