ASHES OF BETRAYAL THE SORCERER'S VENGEANCE

CHAPTER 3

Then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click. His footsteps echoed down the corridor as he ran toward the throne room, his heart singing with joy and possibility.

Inside the chambers, silence fell like a burial shroud.

King Aldric stared at the closed door, his expression slowly shifting from paternal warmth to something cold and resolute.

 He set down his goblet with deliberate care and walked to his private wardrobe, pulling out his formal robes, the ones he wore for official pronouncements and judgments.

Queen Seraphine remained standing where she was, one hand pressed against her chest as if trying to hold her breaking heart together. Tears gathered in her violet eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.

"Honey." 

She whispered, her voice cracking. 

"Are you absolutely sure we should do this to him? He's so happy. He's so good. Maybe the prophecy was wrong. Maybe…"

"Yes, we should." 

Aldric's voice cut through her protests like a knife through silk. He didn't turn to look at her as he fastened his robes, his movements precise and mechanical. 

"He has come of age. The prophecy said in his nineteenth year, and today marks exactly that. We've delayed long enough. The oracle was clear: the child of violet eyes shall drown the throne in shadow and shatter the bloodline. We cannot risk it."

"But he's our son…"

"He's a threat!" 

Aldric whirled on her, his ice-blue eyes blazing with something between fear and fury.

 "A threat to everything we've built, everything this kingdom stands for. Do you want to watch our kingdom burn? Do you want to see our other children die because we were too weak to do what was necessary?"

Seraphine flinched as if struck. Fresh tears spilt down her cheeks.

 "There has to be another way. Exile, imprisonment, we could…"

"There is no other way." 

Aldric's voice went flat, final.

 "Guild Master Torin has his orders. Marcus Valen knows his role. The plan is in motion. By sunset tomorrow, the prophecy will be nullified and the kingdom will be safe."

"By sunset tomorrow, our son will be dead." 

Seraphine's voice broke completely. She sank back into her chair, her hand covering her mouth to muffle her sobs. 

"We're going to murder our own child."

Aldric finished adjusting his robes and moved to the mirror, checking his appearance with clinical detachment. 

"We're saving the kingdom. History will vindicate us." 

He caught his wife's eye in the mirror's reflection. 

"Now compose yourself. We have a ceremony to conduct. We need to look the part of proud parents. One last time."

Seraphine wiped at her tears with shaking hands, trying to pull herself together. But as she stood and moved to prepare herself, she caught her own reflection in the window glass. 

The woman staring back at her looked haunted and broken.

What have we become? she thought. What have I become?

But she said nothing. Instead, she simply followed her husband toward the door, toward the throne room, toward the moment when they would smile at their son and condemn him to death.

In the throne room, Kael paced back and forth with barely contained energy. The massive chamber was empty except for him, the afternoon light streaming through tall windows and illuminating the golden throne that sat on its raised dais. 

Tapestries depicting the kingdom's greatest victories lined the walls and the polished floor reflected his image as he walked.

He couldn't stop smiling. Elite Squad. He'd actually done it. All those years of training, of pushing himself past his limits of enduring the whispers that he was too weak, too soft, that he'd never amount to anything, it had all been worth it.

And Lyanna. Gods, Lyanna. They'd be together now, truly together. Not sneaking moments between training sessions or stolen kisses in shadowed corridors. They'd face danger side by side, protect each other, and prove their love through action and loyalty.

He imagined their first mission together. Maybe something simple at first, escorting a merchant caravan, clearing out a minor monster nest.

 But eventually, they'd be trusted with greater tasks. Diplomatic missions. Border patrols. Maybe even hunting the dangerous beasts that sometimes emerged from the Darkwood.

Back in the royal chambers, King Aldric stared at the closed door, his expression slowly shifting from paternal warmth to something cold and resolute. 

He set down his goblet with deliberate care and walked to his private wardrobe, pulling out his formal robes, the ones he wore for official pronouncements and judgments.

Queen Seraphine remained standing where she was, one hand pressed against her chest as if trying to hold her breaking heart together. Tears gathered in her violet eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.

"Honey." 

She whispered, her voice cracking with barely suppressed anguish. The single word carried the weight of nineteen years of maternal love, fear, and impending loss.

 "Are you absolutely sure we should do this to him?"

"Yes, we should."

 Aldric's voice cut through her question like a blade through silk, sharp and final. He didn't turn to look at her as he reached for his ceremonial crown, his jaw set with grim determination.

 "He has come of age…”