Beneath the vast canopy of an ancient banyan tree, Kalies sat in stillness. Long roots fell around him like silent curtains, isolating him from the world beyond. His expression was distant, shadowed by thoughts he did not voice.
He raised the white flute to his lips.
A slow melody drifted into the air — soft, mournful, and haunting. Leaves trembled gently. Even the wind seemed to move carefully, as if unwilling to disturb the sound.
Nearby, Astromius lay stretched against a root, lazily eating grapes from a woven basket. Between bites, he drifted in and out of sleep, unaware of the weight carried in the music.
No one truly knew where Kalies came from.
He had appeared at the Temple of Thernys as an abandoned child. The king had taken him in, raising him within sacred grounds. Yet even among priests and warriors, Kalies never truly belonged.
Children like him were rare.
Born to ascend.
Born to become the Lord of Death.
"Kalies…"
The voice cut through the melody.
He lowered the flute and turned.
Standing behind him was Yakubo. He stepped forward and sat beside him, the banyan roots bending around them like silent witnesses.
"You should be preparing," Yakubo said quietly. "After this tournament… you are meant to ascend as the Death Lord."
Kalies remained silent for a long moment.
"In my whole life," he said softly, "I was prepared for this."
His fingers tightened around the flute.
"But I always feel like I am carrying a burden. My power… it has grown heavy. The priests of this temple taught me to be emotionless. They taught me to be less human."
The wind stirred the hanging roots.
"I have never experienced life," Kalies continued quietly. "So death… means nothing to me."
Yakubo listened without interrupting.
"Father — the king — said I should train. So I trained. He said I am like a god… a vessel of ancestors awakening… a blessing."
Kalies' eyes lowered.
"A blessing I never asked for."
Silence deepened between them.
"So what if I refuse?" Kalies asked at last. "What if I reject the crown… and run away to the wilderness of Lide?"
For the first time, uncertainty touched his voice.
"I am not even Therniyan," he murmured. "Just an abandoned child… living by the king's kindness."
Yakubo studied him carefully.
"You were placed here for a reason," he replied calmly. "No ordinary child is born carrying the voices of ancestors. You are meant to wear the Crown of Death."
Leaves whispered overhead.
"You may not want it," Yakubo continued, "but destiny rarely asks."
Kalies gave a faint, tired smile.
Then he slowly stood. He bowed his head slightly—not in submission, but in acknowledgment.
"You should help the trainees," Yakubo said. "Prepare them for the tournament."
Kalies nodded and began to walk away, his steps quiet against the earth.
Behind them, Astromius rolled onto his side, still asleep, a grape slipping from his hand.
Yakubo watched Kalies disappear beyond the curtain of roots.
"Well…" he murmured quietly,
"No one knows what the future holds."
The last note of the flute lingered in the air.
"We can only prepare."