CHAPTER ONE THE DREAM
The night was heavy with silence. Over the four kingdoms, the full moon rose like a glowing omen, its pale light spilling across the towers of Asteroth's Iron Citadel. Inside the king's chamber, torches flickered uneasily, as if whispering warnings only the flames could hear.
Lord Astheroth lay in his grand bed, resting beside one of his concubines. She slept peacefully but he did not. His breath was shallow, his body tense. Something unseen tugged at him, dragging his spirit deeper and deeper into the realm of dreams.
Until suddenly he was no longer in his chamber.
Astheroth found himself alone in a silent forest, surrounded by towering trees and drifting mist. The forest was calm, almost unnaturally so. Only distant birdsong broke the stillness.
He turned slowly, confusion tightening his jaw.
From above, an eagle soared down majestically, wings spread wide. It landed on a branch of a massive oak behind him and looked at him with knowing eyes.
The king frowned.
Before he could react
WHOOSH! An arrow sliced through the air from nowhere, striking the eagle straight in its chest.
The bird let out a dying cry and fell to the ground, lifeless.
Astheroth stumbled backward, fear twisting his heart.
"What madness is this?"
A sudden rustling exploded behind him as a wild boar burst from the bushes, tusks sharp, breath steaming in fury. Terrified, Astheroth ran, crashing through branches, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
He burst from the trees into a vast open plain, the sky unnaturally bright above him.
There standing completely still was a woman.
An ancient priestess.
Her hair was long and white like newly fallen snow. A tall staff sat firmly in her right hand. She did not face him; instead, she stared up at the sky as though waiting for some celestial sign.
Astheroth hesitated, shaken. Yet something about her presence pulled him forward.
He took a careful step.
The priestess spoke.
Her voice was like the winds in their full strength, sweeping through his bones:
"Do not come close."
She slowly turned.
And he froze in terror.
She had no face.
Only swirling black smoke where her face should be shifting, spiraling, breathing like a living shadow.
Astheroth collapsed to his knees in fear.
"Wh-who are you, great one? Tell me!"
"You do not need to know who I am," she answered, her voice echoing across the plain. "But you must know this"
The sky darkened. The earth trembled beneath him. The wind howled violently.
Her staff rose.
"YOU ARE JUDGED… AND CONDEMNED."
Astheroth's voice trembled. "Judged? Condemned for what?"
The faceless priestess turned her featureless head toward him, the black smoke swirling like a storm.
"I am not here to answer your questions," she said, her voice rising like the roar of a thousand winds. "I am here to deliver the decree of the Ancients upon you, King Astheroth."
Astheroth's throat tightened. "Decree…?"
"The cry of the innocent blood you have spilled," she thundered, "has risen and now speaks against you."
"I spilled no innocent blood!" Astheroth shouted, scrambling backward on his knees. "Everything I did, I did for the good of the kingdom!"
"Liar." Her word struck him like a blow.
"You did all things under the weight of your greed," she said. "You lusted for power. For wealth. For control over life and death. Your hunger has drawn the wrath of the Ancients upon you."
She lifted her staff slowly.
"Now I stand to judge you by the Prophecy of the Last Sword bearer."
Lightning cracked across the dream sky.
"A child shall be born under the full moon," she declared, "and he shall rise to defeat you and every drop of your bloodline. He shall erase your name from the face of the earth… and rule in your stead."
Astheroth collapsed fully, shaking. "No… No! Show me mercy, Ancient One. I beg you show mercy!"
"There is no mercy for you," she said. "And there is no mercy written in the scrolls of the Ancients."
Suddenly the black smoke that formed her faceless head ignited into blazing fire, roaring upward like a living flame.
Astheroth shielded his face as the priestess dissolved into swirling light.
A blast of blinding light swallowed him whole.
And Astheroth woke with a violent gasp.
THE KING AWAKENS
He jolted upright in his bed, drenched in sweat. His concubine stirred beside him, startled.
"My lord? What is it?"
Astheroth didn't answer. His chest heaved, his eyes wide with fear. The dream still echoed inside him, heavy and real. Far too real.
He swung his feet to the floor.
"This was no dream," he whispered. "This was a warning…"
A prophecy.
He hurried to the balcony, staring at the glowing full moon. It looked exactly as it had in his dream bright, watchful, merciless.
Rage and fear twisted in his gut.
He summoned the guards immediately.
"Bring me my council. Now."
THE SUMMONING
Within minutes, three advisors knelt before him in his throne room:
General Varkon High Scholar Morath Priestess Velamira
Astheroth paced like a caged beast, recounting the dream in harsh, clipped breaths. When he finished, the room fell silent with dread.
Velamira spoke first. "My king… the prophecy of the Last Sword bearer has awakened. A child born under the full moon, touched by the stars, destined to wield the Titan-forged Sword."
Morath adjusted his scroll, trembling.
"The dream's symbols the eagle, the boar, the faceless priestess they all point to the chosen child. One… who will rise against you."
"My lord, the prophecy of the Last Swordbearer warns that the child will come from among the people… not from royalty. This means"
"It means," Astheroth snapped, "that he could be born anywhere. To anyone."
Silence strangled the chamber.
Then the king spoke the words that would set the kingdoms ablaze.
"Bring every pregnant woman from all four kingdoms to Blood castle. Immediately. Tonight."
Velamira gasped. "My king surely the Priestess Dianna must be consulted first."
"I am the law," Astheroth thundered. "And I will not fall to some star-blessed brat!"
He struck the ground with his staff, its echo rolling like a storm across the halls.
"Send out the soldiers. Drag them here if you must. All of them."
General Varkon bowed his head. "As you command… Lord Astheroth."
The orders spread like wildfire.
By dawn, thousands of torches flickered across the roads as soldiers marched door to door, commanding every pregnant woman to the Iron Citadel. Crying families, trembling mothers, and confused crowds filled the night.
Fear had awakened.
The prophecy had begun.
And somewhere far from the castle in a small, quiet village… a young woman named Elara woke with a gasp.
Her hand flew to her swollen belly.
A strange warmth pulsed beneath her skin, spreading like gentle fire… a warmth that did not feel earthly. A warmth that felt like starlight.
Her breath trembled.
"What… what is happening to me?"
The glow grew stronger soft at first, then brighter, as though the child inside her stirred with a power far beyond her understanding.
She reached for the small oil lamp beside her bed…When suddenly…
A cold hand clamped over her mouth.
Elara tried to scream, but the sound was smothered. Her eyes widened in terror as a shadowy figure pressed close, its other hand gripping her shoulders.
She struggled… kicking, clawing, fighting for air but the hand only tightened.
The starlight in her belly flickered faintly.
Her lungs burned.
Her vision blurred.
And as the full moon shone brightly through the window, Elara's body finally went still. Her eyes rolled back.
She fainted, collapsing into the arms of the unknown intruder.
The shadowy figure lifted her quietly… carefully… as though carrying something priceless.
Then without a sound They vanished into the night.