The sound of hurried footsteps echoed all around…
The old woman gently placed the little girl onto the carriage.
She spoke in a reassuring voice:
— Don't worry, this carriage will take you to a nearby village. There are kind people there who will take care of you.
The girl, in shock, her eyes brimming with tears, replied:
— I want my father… and my mother… where is my mother?
The woman tapped the horse lightly, and the carriage began to move slowly forward, while the little girl turned back to look behind her.
On the horizon, flames consumed the palace,
screams and blood filled the air…
A whole kingdom was burning under the weight of betrayal.
In an age long past, there once existed a great kingdom, the strongest in history in terms of military power—no army could stand against it, and none dared to challenge it.
Its name was the Kingdom of the Jinn.
All rulers of neighboring lands feared it, dreaded its wrath, and avoided provoking it.
Under the dominion of this kingdom lived tribes whose people were born with supernatural abilities, making the kingdom mighty and undefeatable.
Among those tribes were:
The Tribe of the Jinn: the strongest and most dominant.
The Tribe of Wolves: equal in strength to the Jinn, locked in eternal enmity with them.
The Tribe of Swordsmen: fierce warriors, renowned for their physical strength.
But not all were born with powers.
Some came into the world without any gifts… known as the Outcasts.
They were few, and often killed or forced to flee into poor villages beyond the kingdom's borders, unable to survive in such a merciless world.
Despite its power, the kingdom's people lived in dire poverty, while the king enjoyed wealth and luxury, closing his eyes to the hunger and weakness of his subjects.
The people often demanded reforms, the division of lands into independent kingdoms, each tribe with its own ruler and system.
Most vocal of all was the Tribe of Wolves, whose numbers were vast. Their demand was clear:
to be granted a kingdom of their own, with a leader of their choosing—just as the Tribe of Swordsmen had asked.
Crying, hunger, torment, death…
This was the state of the villages.
A young boy asked his mother:
— Mother, I want some bread. I haven't tasted it in so long.
The mother replied tenderly, masking her exhaustion with a smile:
— Alright, my son… today I have extra work at the palace. Once I finish, I'll bring you some bread.
The boy's face lit up with innocence:
— Thank you, Mother. I'll go play with my friend.
The mother warned him:
— Don't go too far, take care of yourself.
Then she left, heading toward the palace, where she worked as a nanny for the king's daughter, Alessandra.
The girl, with golden hair and sharp features, was eight years old.
She knew nothing of kingdoms, nor of her father's cruelty toward his people, nor of the hatred festering in their hearts against him.
The nanny spoke softly as she opened the curtains:
— Wake up, Alessandra… I brought your favorite pastry.
Alessandra tossed in her bed, replying sleepily:
— Nana Mary… I don't want pastries right now.
Mary laughed:
— Your mother, Elizabeth, asked me to make sure you eat, then bathe, and head to the guest hall… your uncle Samarth has arrived.
Alessandra sighed with annoyance:
— I hate Uncle Samarth and his son. They don't like to play with me.
Mary:
— Very well, I'll prepare your clothes and wait for you after your bath.
After finishing her meal and bathing, Alessandra dressed and went to the guest hall, where her uncle Samarth sat, staring intently at her mother.
Samarth, a powerful and influential figure, was responsible for resources, organizing the army, and establishing treaties with other nations.
He was King Fenric's right hand, the only brother he trusted.
He sat at the table, gazing at Elizabeth's face.
Elizabeth responded coldly:
— Why don't you eat your food instead of staring at me, Samarth?
Samarth, with a sly smile:
— My appetite vanished the moment I saw your face.
Elizabeth:
— If King Fenric hears how you speak to his queen, he will not spare you.
Samarth, deliberately calm:
— And if the king learns that his queen was once his brother's beloved… he will not spare her either.
Elizabeth fell silent, glaring at his vile face with seething anger. Then she turned away, changing the subject:
— Alessandra, come here, my dear… I asked Nana Mary to prepare your favorite pastry.
Alessandra entered shyly:
— Hello, Uncle Samarth.
Samarth smiled with hypocrisy:
— Come, sit beside your uncle.
Alessandra glanced around the hall and asked:
— Where is your son, Lav?
Samarth:
— Did you miss him?
Alessandra:
— No, I'd rather not see his face, or I might lose my appetite completely.
Samarth muttered under his breath:
— Oh… she truly resembles you, Elizabeth.
Suddenly, the guards' voices rang out beyond the doors:
— King Fenric has arrived.
Everyone rose to their feet, bowing in respect to the ruler of the most powerful kingdom in history.