"Silent!" King Mortifer's voice rang loud and sharp, slicing through the murmurs. "Why are you so afraid of her? She is nothing but weak. In unity, we are stronger!"
He paused, eyes scanning the chamber, letting his words sink into every spine. Then, with a single motion, he commanded: "Bring the map."
A scroll was unfurled before him, and the king carefully opened it.
Light flickered across the detailed surface, forming a realistic portrait of the entire world—every kingdom, every border, every territory marked with meticulous precision.
The room fell into silence, all eyes on the map, and on the king, as if the weight of strategy itself had settled over them.
"The humans, with Velmara's hand guiding them, have seized the entire eastern front," King Mortifer growled, stabbing his finger onto the map. "Using black powders… here."
The parchment trembled beneath the force of his touch.
"They've built walls of flame and smoke. No army can push through. No creature can get close. Velmara has poisoned the walls itself. Entering by force is suicide."
He straightened, eyes sweeping the room like a blade searching for a throat.
"So we will not storm her gates. We will slip inside them."
His voice dropped to something darker.
"We need someone who can wear a human face, breathe their air, speak their lies. Someone who can walk straight into their trust,He who would slip into their gate."
A hush. A cold one.
"And when they reach the heart of the eastern world…" He tapped the center of the eastern map—once, hard, like a hammer hitting bone.
"We will tear the empire apart from the inside."
He didn't blink.
"The emperor dies. His whelp dies. Their line ends in one night."
The words struck the chamber like an execution order already fulfilled.
"Who is willing to take this responsibility?"
The king's voice cracked through the chamber like a whip.
Everyone turned to each other, eyes wide with fear. Breath held. Spines stiff.
Not a single hand rose.
Not a single voice dared answer.
They all stared, waiting—hoping someone else would be the fool.
No one was willing to risk their life.
No one wanted to be the one to walk into Velmara's shadow.
Silence pressed down like a stone.
Even the candles seemed to burn quieter.
And then—
"Father… I will go."
The words cut through the chamber like a blade. Every head snapped toward Tenebrarum.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then the court erupted. Chairs scraped across the polished floors, voices shouting, some in fear, some in awe, others in reckless excitement.
The noise was deafening, chaotic—a mixture of disbelief and admiration. They had all expected hesitation. They had all expected cowardice.
But Tenebrarum had stepped forward.
And in that instant, the chamber knew one truth above all:
This was no ordinary prince.
This was a force of reckoning.
"No. You won't."
King Mortifer's voice cut through the clamor, and suddenly, laughter and cheers died on every tongue.
"No. You can't," he continued, eyes narrowing, each word sharp as a blade. "You cannot blend with humans. One careless glance, one twitch of a muscle, and they will see you for what you truly are."
He leaned forward, fingers steepled, gaze sweeping over the room like judgment incarnate.
"We cannot risk our crown prince's life like that."
The chamber fell silent again. Even the candles seemed to shiver in their holders, as if aware of the danger looming over Tenebrarum.
Why would Mortifer stop Tenebrarum from going to the battle, why would he disgrace Tenebrarum in front of the court like this.
"I don't understand! You just said you needed someone .Why I'm I excluded!!" Tenebrarum's voice cracked with anger as he slammed his hand on the polished table. The sound echoed through the chamber like a gunshot, rattling goblets and scattering papers.
"Everyone—leave!" King Mortifer's command boomed, cutting through the room. Chairs scraped back, footsteps pounded on the marble floors, and in moments, the court cleared, leaving only father and son.
"I cannot give my most precious weapon to the humans," King Mortifer said, his voice like iron rolling over stone.
"I can end this war," Tenebrarum spat, each word sharp, carved from fire. "I will burn their armies, erase their cities, and leave nothing standing in my path. I will clear the whole of humanity if I must."
"You are the crown prince," Mortifer said, voice cold as a blade. "I will not let my heir chase ghosts while the world trembles at our gates. You will not waste yourself on fantasies."
The chamber seemed to shrink around them, the very air bending to their fury. Father and son—two forces of empire—stood opposed.
"That doesn't give you any right to insult me in the court like that," Tenebrarum said, his voice sharp, controlled, like a blade pressed to the throat.
"Insult?" King Mortifer's tone cut through the air, cold and unforgiving. "You insulted me—your father, the king—banging the table as if you'd lost your mind."
The tension between them was palpable, a storm held in check only by the walls of the empty chamber.
And then—a shift.
Tenebrarum's body began to change, expanding, growing taller, broader, more… impossible. Muscles twisted beneath his skin, veins darkening, as if shadows themselves had taken form.
Long, sharp nails burst from his fingers, gleaming like obsidian. A horn spiraled upward from his hand, curling into the shape of a jagged crown, jagged and regal.
Yet his mask remained—silent, unreadable, a frozen expression of calm that belied the storm of power erupting around him.
The air in the chamber thickened, trembling with the weight of his presence.
Even King Mortifer faltered, the shift undeniable, awe and fear threading his gaze.
"And this is who… wants to blend with humans?" Mortifer's laughter cut through the chamber, sharp and cruel, each word striking like iron. His final words landed hard, echoing against the walls.
Tenebrarum's hands flexed, claws scraping the polished floor. He tried to shift back, to reclaim the calm, human‑like form he had worn before.
But anger twisted through him, a storm he could not contain. The transformation held, a visible mark of his fury, of the power that even he could not fully control in this moment.
The chamber felt smaller now, suffocating under the weight of his presence, and even the king's laughter faltered as he realized the storm he had provoked.
-----------------------------------------
To be continued...