Though dawn broke with golden light, the air in Vale was still heavy with what had transpired the night before. Fear had not vanished, only buried beneath duty and forced smiles. The King of Vale, Aldric, stood tall before his council and made his decree with a voice of iron.
"No one," he commanded, "is to visit Madame Calista in her cell. Her words shall not spread. Let the tongues of our people be sealed, for if other kingdoms hear of this prophecy, it may bring shame and weakness upon us. Silence is our shield."
The guards bowed, their armor clinking, and his command became law. Not a whisper of Calista's warning would be allowed to cross the borders.
But King Aldric's mind was not at rest. He knew prophecy was not easily tamed, nor truth so easily chained. That very morning, he summoned his most trusted captain.
"Ride beyond our borders," he ordered. "Go to the Kingdom of Thalorien. Seek the great prophet, Ezekiel the Seer, whose visions are known across the lands. Bring him here, for his eyes pierce deeper than shadows. If Calista spoke falsely, Ezekiel will unmask her lies. If she spoke true…" His voice faltered, but he quickly regained his composure. "Then we must prepare for whatever doom lies ahead."
The captain bowed low. "By your will, my king." And without delay, he rode forth into the distance.
---
The Blood Moon Festival
Despite the unease in the palace, the celebrations of the Blood Moon continued. For centuries, the Blood Moon Festival had been the heart of unity across the kingdoms—a worldwide gathering where borders fell away, and culture, music, and laughter bound people together.
The grand courtyards of Vale blazed with life. Crimson banners were hung from every tower, their silk catching the moonlight as if drenched in blood itself. Lanterns glowed like fireflies, drifting high into the sky, carrying prayers of prosperity.
From across the world, kingdoms came bearing gifts, music, and tradition. The desert tribes of Solara arrived, their dancers painted in gold, moving with the fluid grace of the sun. From the icy dominion of Frostholm came singers with voices deep and haunting, echoing like the wind through glaciers. The Nightshade Kingdom's performers danced in silken black, their movements sharp and mysterious, while Celestine's bards filled the air with harps and flutes that glittered like silver rain.
Children laughed, nobles toasted with goblets of ruby wine, and merchants lined the streets with rare spices and shimmering jewels. Bonfires were lit, their smoke spiraling toward the sky, as drummers beat rhythms that made even the oldest bones sway.
The Blood Moon itself rose, vast and red, casting its glow upon the world. Many believed it was a sacred sign that blessed the union of kingdoms. Yet for Queen Seraphina, the crimson moon only looked like an omen of blood yet to come.
---
The Arrival of Ezekiel the Seer
As the celebration reached its height, a horn echoed through the valley gates. The crowd turned, their dancing slowing to whispers of curiosity. Through the gate rode the guard who had been sent days before—and beside him, cloaked in white and silver, was the prophet Ezekiel.
The old man's presence was commanding despite his frailty. His eyes, pale as the moon, seemed to pierce through flesh and bone. In one hand he carried a staff crowned with a crystal orb that pulsed faintly with light.
The King himself descended the palace steps to greet him, the crowd parting like waves before a ship. "Prophet Ezekiel," Aldric declared, bowing his head slightly, "you honor us with your presence."
Ezekiel lifted his staff in silent acknowledgment. His voice, when it came, was deep yet distant, as though carried from another realm.
"I am here because fate has summoned me," he said. "I will bless your final day of celebration, as your ancestors once sought blessing from those before me. But know this—when the Blood Moon burns, truth reveals itself."
The people cheered, though many shivered at his words.
The King led him into the palace, where chambers had been prepared. Ezekiel was treated with reverence, but his expression remained unreadable, as if his mind dwelled on visions unseen.
---
Shadows in the Queen's Heart
That night, while the sounds of music and laughter still echoed through the palace halls, Queen Seraphina could not rest. She paced back and forth in her chamber, her fingers twisting nervously around her gown. Madame Calista's words replayed in her mind like a haunting song.
Her husband entered quietly, his crown removed, his expression weary. "Seraphina," he said softly, "you must rest."
"How can I?" she whispered sharply, turning to face him with tear-stained eyes. "Calista's visions have never been false. Never! What if—what if my daughter is doomed before she is even born?"
King Aldric drew close, taking her trembling hands in his. His voice was firm, steady—though she could feel the storm of doubt beneath it.
"I have brought Ezekiel here for a reason. He will see through the lies of that cursed woman. I will ask him myself. If his words differ, then Calista is nothing but a deceiver. If they are the same…" He paused, his jaw tightening. "…then we will face destiny together. He shall also be the one to bless and name our child. No curse will rule her fate—only the will of the gods."
Seraphina searched his eyes, desperate for hope. "Did he say anything yet… about the prophecy?"
"Not yet," Aldric admitted. "He remains silent until the final night. Tomorrow, before the gathered kingdoms, he will speak."
A silence settled between them, heavy and unyielding. Outside, the music of the festival continued, but inside Seraphina's heart, dread had already dimmed every light.
That same night, letters sealed with the crest of Vale were sent to the Nightshade and Celestine kingdoms, inviting their queens to hear the prophet's words on the last day of celebration.
And though the Blood Moon gleamed above the palace in all its crimson glory, it seemed to Seraphina that its glow was a warning—that fate was drawing nearer, step by step, cloaked in shadows.