The crowned man descended the steps of the throne with slow, graceful strides. Every movement seemed rehearsed, every gesture calculated.
When he reached the trembling boy, he placed a hand gently on his shoulder.
"Do not be afraid," the king whispered, his tone soothing, almost fatherly.
"You are safe here. You are among your people."
Warmth radiated from his touch, but the boy's stomach twisted. His instincts screamed against the comfort of that smile.
The crowd erupted again, cheering, their voices thunderous. The king raised his hand, and silence fell instantly—too instantly, as if every soul in the room obeyed without thought.
"You will come to understand everything," the king continued.
"For now… all you must do is trust me."
The boy swallowed hard, forcing words past dry lips.
"Trust… you?"
The king's smile widened.
"Yes. For only I can show you the truth of this world."
And in the back of his mind, the whisper coiled once more:
"He will betray you."