---
None of the ministers dared raise an objection. Since the death of Queen Hilda, no one else could rightfully claim the throne but Lucifer. His presence alone commanded the chamber — a storm contained in human form.
An elderly minister rose slowly, his beard tumbling to his chest, voice trembling yet resolute.
"My king, I hope you are aware that the Crown of Life has been destroyed."
Lucifer leaned back, dark eyes narrowing.
"Yes. What of it?"
"For centuries, the Crown has been our shield against ruin," the old man said gravely. "Now that it is gone, the kingdoms around us will seek to strike. We stand vulnerable."
Lucifer's lips curled into a sly smile.
"Do not fret. I have a plan."
He rose. The council bowed deeply as he dismissed them with a flick of his hand.
When the hall emptied, Lucifer turned to his ever-loyal advisor.
"Where must I go next?"
"To the Royal Chamber," Morvain replied, tone clipped and sharp.
Lucifer exhaled through his teeth.
"So be it."
---
The Royal Chamber
Forged of black iron veined with gold, the Royal Chamber loomed like a fortress within the castle — its torches burning dim, its silence heavy with judgment.
The royal family waited at its heart.
Regent Queen Seraphina sat rigid upon her seat, silver hair gleaming like moonlight against her mourning gown. Beside her stood Prince Darius, hand tight around his dagger, and Princess Amara, her eyes trembling beneath a pale veil.
Lord Valen, the Queen's brother, stood tall and defiant, while Lady Mirabel clutched her rosary with shaking fingers.
Lucifer entered — and the air thickened.
"What if I killed her?" he said suddenly.
The words froze the chamber. Gasps filled the silence.
Then came the smirk.
"I didn't even kill her," he added, voice soft and cruel. "She killed herself."
Lord Valen stepped forward, fury overpowering fear.
"She would never have taken her own life — not if you hadn't betrayed the throne and the Crown!"
His courage lasted a heartbeat.
Lucifer's eyes flared black — and Valen collapsed lifeless to the marble floor.
A scream tore through the silence.
Lucifer's laughter echoed through the hall, thunderous and merciless.
"Who else dares speak?"
No one moved. The silence swallowed them whole.
He turned to leave — but the Queen's voice broke through, trembling yet sharp as glass.
"You are not my son."
Lucifer halted. Slowly, he faced her again, his shadow stretching long and cold across the floor.
He leaned close, whispering like a serpent.
"Oh really? I will spare you… because you are my mother."
His laughter followed him and Morvain out of the hall — a sound that clung to the stone walls long after their footsteps faded.
---
Far Beyond Osric
The night wind swept across the silver forests of Sylvan Reach as three weary travelers continued their journey — Leofric, Edith, and little Olivia.
Their road led to Emberhold, capital of Pyrrhathis Dominion, a city born of fire and stone. Its towering walls glowed red under the forge-lit sky. Anvils rang, furnaces hissed, and molten sparks danced in the air like restless stars.
Before they reached the gates, an old man stepped into their path.
Weathered, lean, and scarred by years of labor, he carried the scent of smoke and steel.
"You're strangers here, aren't you?" he rasped.
Leofric nodded.
"Yes. We seek shelter for the night."
The man studied them — his gaze resting on the child. Something flickered in his eyes.
"She is… special," he murmured. Then he smiled faintly. "Come. I'll give you shelter."
They followed him to a small home at the edge of a wide clearing. Smoke curled from a quiet forge nearby.
"Welcome to my abode," he said. "Rest here tonight. But…" — his voice deepened — "this land is woven with old powers. Wander carefully."
Edith frowned.
"Old powers? What do you mean?"
"You will know soon enough," he replied cryptically. "Now go inside. I must speak with your husband."
Leofric hesitated, then nodded.
"What do you want, old man?"
The stranger smirked.
"Name's Eldric. A forger. I craft weapons — swords, spears, even relics. Yours," he nodded toward Leofric's blade, "once bore runes. Ancient ones."
Leofric's eyes narrowed.
"I'll give you my answer tomorrow."
"Take your time," Eldric said. "If you choose to work with me, you and your family will have a home."
When Leofric went inside, Eldric watched the door close — his expression darkening.
"That child," he whispered, "carries something the world has long forgotten."
---
Beyond the Burning Mountains
Far away, across molten plains and smoldering valleys, rose the empire of Drakthar Dominion.
There, in a throne hall carved from cooled lava, sat King Kaelen Veynar — young, ruthless, and handsome as sin.
His ministers stood in rows before him, heads bowed. All but one.
Minister Garrick Halvon puffed his chest, voice loud and greedy.
"Now that the Crown of Life is gone, the time has come! With one of the crystals hidden in our lands, we must strike!"
Kaelen's eyes glinted like obsidian.
"You are right, Garrick."
The minister grinned — until the king added,
"Then you shall lead the expedition… to find the Fire Crystal."
Garrick bowed proudly.
"An honor, my king."
Kaelen rose, voice like stone.
"But if you fail… you will pay with your head."
Fear replaced pride in an instant.
"You have seven days," Kaelen declared, cloak sweeping the floor like a shadow of flame. "This meeting is over."
The ministers bowed deeply, and the tyrant's throne room fell silent — save for the crackling of distant fire.