In a faraway land beyond the shadow of the Demon Realm, the kingdom of Morthagar was anything but peaceful.
The vast corridors of the palace trembled as another crash echoed through its gilded halls—glass shattering, bronze goblets rolling across the marble floor. Servants shrank into corners, their trembling hands clutching trays or cloths they dared not lift again.
Even the armored knights standing guard along the walls flinched, for the sound was not unfamiliar. Their king’s fury was a storm they had all learned to fear, and tonight, the storm raged louder than ever.
"Useless!" the enraged voice thundered. "All of you are nothing but worthless, spineless dogs! I asked you a simple task—watch over Cassian. Keep your eyes on him. And yet, you come before me telling me you lost him? In a temple?"
King Morvain Veythar stood in the center of the chamber, his broad shoulders shaking with unspent rage. His dark hair, usually neatly bound back with a circlet of iron, hung disheveled over his forehead, shadows carving deeper lines into his already severe face.
His golden eyes blazed with a fire so fierce that it seemed to scorch the air itself. He had hurled goblets, maps, and even a jeweled dagger across the chamber, each crash punctuating the bitter truth gnawing at his mind: he had lost Cassian.
That boy...no, the carefully chosen pawn on his board. He was the cornerstone of a plan Morvain had been weaving for years, and now... the pawn was suddenly gone. Not even any clues left behind. It was as if the world itself had swallowed him whole.
Morvain’s breath came harsh and ragged, his fists clenching at his sides until his knuckles turned white. Rage boiled in his chest, but beneath it lay something colder, sharper—the gnawing bite of failure.
Cassian was supposed to be his leverage. Through him, the heart of the Demon King should have fallen into Morvain’s hands. Instead, he stood here empty-handed.
He ground his teeth, the taste of iron filling his mouth as he bit back a roar. One misstep after another... First Cassian vanishes, then my knights fail me, then the Demon King’s heart slips through my fingers. Am I cursed to watch every plan crumble to dust?
The five knights kneeling before him did not dare to lift their heads. Their armor glinted in the firelight, but sweat trickled down their temples beneath their helms, soaking collars and dripping down to the polished stone floor. They were his best knights, and yet even they had failed him. The silence between their labored breaths was suffocating. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn N()velFire.net
Finally, after pacing like a caged beast, Morvain stopped. His chest heaved before he lowered himself onto the iron-carved throne at the end of the chamber. He pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, massaging away the ache hammering behind his eyes.
If he allowed rage to consume him completely, he would lose more than just this battle. He could not afford to waste time.
When he looked up again, his gaze was molten gold, piercing each knight like a blade.
"Tell me," his voice dropped low, almost dangerous in its restraint. "From the beginning. What happened at the Temple of Galdreath?"
The five men stiffened. None dared to speak, until at last the captain of the knights—broad-shouldered, with a scar across his jaw, the man who had fought countless wars under Morvain’s banner—swallowed hard and raised his head just enough to meet his king’s fury.
"My king," he began with a rough voice. "As you commanded, we kept ourselves hidden near the temple. Just as you said, no entrance could be found... until Cassian Hayes discovered it himself. He and his knights uncovered the opening where none of us could."
He faltered. The weight of Morvain’s stare pressed down on him like a mountain, yet he forced himself to continue. "It was Cassian who led the way. Without him, we would never have set foot inside."
The silence that followed was unbearable. The knights’ hearts pounded in their chests.
But King Morvain did not explode. He sat still, his fire-bright eyes locked on the kneeling forms before him, his mind already turning, scheming, shifting to the next move on the board.
For even when fate sought to strip him of his pieces, Morvain Veythar was not a man who accepted defeat.
The captain’s voice trembled as he forced the words out, his forehead nearly pressed against the cold stone floor.
"Leader Hayes never knew we were hiding near the temple, my king. We never made contact with him. After days of searching, it was he—Leader Hayes—who managed to open the gates of the temple. Once he and his knights went inside, we secretly followed, waiting for the right moment to act. But the temple..." The man swallowed hard, sweat sliding down his temple.
"...the temple was vast, endless... like a maze of stone corridors twisting upon themselves. Yet Hayes walked as if he already knew the way. As if he had been there before."
At those words, the king’s gaze deepened, his golden eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He leaned back in his throne but said nothing. It was the silence of a man who already knew the truth, who had long suspected something others dared not voice.
The captain’s chest constricted. His tongue felt thick and heavy as he forced himself to continue. "At one point, Leader Hayes collapsed... He fell into a strange coma. We thought him lost, but then... he woke again. He rose and pressed forward, more determined than before."
"And then..." the captain’s voice cracked, his hands clenching on his knees, "at the threshold of a new chamber, the door closed behind him. It sealed with a force we could not break. We were cut off from him. Leader Hayes’s knights tried everything to open it, but the door would not budge, everything was useless."
King Morvain’s eyes flickered, his expression carved in iron. He still said nothing, though his jaw tightened visibly.