The rain had stopped, but heavy clouds still loomed over Valdrann Castle.
In the silent corridors, Kael Draven walked with steady steps. Each torch cast long shadows on the stone walls — shadows that seemed to watch him.
The memory of the day's council still lingered in his mind — Chancellor Mareth's cold smile, the wary eyes of the lords, and the king's words, hastily written on the parchment hidden beneath his tunic.
> "The throne is threatened from within.
Trust Kael Draven, the forgotten bastard.
Beware… the one who smiles will stab."
Kael paused, reading those lines for what felt like the hundredth time.
The king — officially dead from illness — had written this before disappearing.
Something was wrong.
Everything inside this castle felt poisoned with deceit.
A guard passed by, bowing his head respectfully.
Kael gave a brief nod in return, but his instincts screamed.
Even familiar halls now felt foreign — too quiet, too watchful.
Once in his chambers, he locked the door and approached the fireplace. The flames cast flickering light across his weary face.
He laid the letter on the table and unfolded a map of the kingdom. Three bastions in the East had fallen. Officially, to rebels.
But Kael knew how those fortresses were built — none could fall without treachery from within.
A soft knock broke the silence.
— Come in, he said quietly.
A young woman entered, wrapped in a dark cloak. Her eyes shone with strange intensity.
— Captain Draven, she murmured. I come on behalf of the king.
Kael froze.
— The king is dead, he replied cautiously.
— No. Not yet. Not entirely.
She drew out a small silver seal engraved with the royal falcon. Kael recognized it instantly — King Aldren's personal mark.
— He bade me give you this, before… everything fell apart.
She handed him a sealed parchment. Kael hesitated, then broke the wax.
The king's handwriting — shaky but unmistakable:
> "Kael,
This kingdom stands upon a lie older than my crown.
If you are reading this, I am no longer safe.
The true enemies sit within my own walls.
Seek the truth… in the Ashes."
Kael looked up at the messenger.
— What are these "Ashes"?
— A place… and a name, she whispered.
Before he could question her further, she drew a dagger and tossed it toward him. Kael caught it by reflex — but when he lifted his gaze again, the woman had vanished into the corridor.
A chill ran down his spine.
The Ashes…
The word echoed in his mind like an omen.
Behind him, the fire crackled weakly. The light flickered — and for a brief moment, a shadow moved across the wall.
Kael spun around, sword drawn. Nothing.
Only silence… and the steady beat of his own heart.
> "If the throne is built on lies," he thought,
"then I'll burn those lies… until I find the truth."
The wind howled through the half-open window, scattering embers into the night.
Kael Draven now understood — the true war had begun.
Not against rebels,
but against those still wearing the king's crown.