The morning in the palace of Iskhalin felt darker than usual. Even though sunlight touched the tall stone walls, a heavy shadow lingered in the hearts of everyone in the kingdom. Sharrfan, after reading the letter from Eirindale, felt the world spinning around him. There was no more space for doubt. The message was clear—no negotiation. Reizha must be freed, but only under one condition: Sharrfan had to step down from the throne.
With a blank, unreadable expression, Sharrfan walked toward the throne room, where the royal council and generals were already gathered. In the large hall filled with tense whispers, all eyes turned to their king as he entered the room.
"King Sharrfan," Zahill, the chief advisor, spoke with curiosity in his tone, "Has a decision been made regarding Eirindale's ultimatum?"
Sharrfan looked at him for a moment, his eyes flickering with the kind of confusion only a cornered leader could feel. "Eirindale knows exactly how to apply pressure," he muttered. "They demand that I give up the throne."
The council fell silent. Eyes turned to one another, measuring the gravity of the moment. This was a high-stakes game that could not be approached lightly. Stepping down would mean the end of Sharrfan's reign, but attacking Eirindale might result in the death of the captive princess.
"If we attack," one of the generals said, "we might win. We are stronger. But we must think about the princess's safety. They could execute her as a prisoner."
Zahill, as always, spoke carefully. "Step down from the throne, my King. Hand it over to a younger heir, perhaps someone better suited to face this changing age. We can avoid a great war and preserve our influence through other means."
Sharrfan clenched his fist on the table, holding back his anger. "If I step down," he said with a deep voice, "I lose everything I've built—my power, my honor, and my place in the eyes of the world."
But in his heart, doubt had begun to grow. He knew this decision was not just about the throne. Reizha was his daughter. Yet he also knew the future of the kingdom outweighed personal ties. Iskhalin had been ruled with strength, but strength could collapse in a blink if one did not know when to retreat.
"I will not step down," he said finally, firmly. "Iskhalin will stand. We will find a way to reclaim Reizha without bowing to Eirindale's cheap threats. I will never do that!"
His decision sent a wave through the throne room. Sharrfan had chosen to stay—no matter the price that might follow.
The morning after the council's dispersal, the atmosphere in the throne room of Iskhalin felt more oppressive than ever. The sun's rays barely seemed to penetrate the heavy air, as if they too were unsure whether to break through the dark clouds gathering over the kingdom. Sharrfan sat at the throne, still, as though carved from stone. His expression, unreadable to anyone who dared look, hid a turbulent mind beneath. Doubt had begun to creep in with the arrival of Eirindale's ultimatum. The choice before him—retreat from the throne or risk everything, even Reizha—gnawed at his soul.
Outside, the kingdom moved on, unaware of the fragile moment the king was facing. His resolve to hold onto power had been strong, but now, every decision seemed weighted with peril. What was he truly willing to sacrifice? His pride? His legacy? His own daughter?
As he sat there, lost in his thoughts, a shadow crossed the room. Zahill, the trusted advisor who had stood by his side for years, entered with his usual calm demeanor. His steps were deliberate, calculated, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, yet carried with it an unsettling conviction.
"Your Majesty," Zahill began, as he approached with a glass of wine in hand, "I trust you are well?"
Sharrfan barely acknowledged the greeting, his eyes still distant, focused on nothing in particular. "I've made my decision," he muttered, his voice low and rough. "We'll stand firm. Iskhalin will not bow to Eirindale. We will never... I'll not be made to look weak."
Zahill did not flinch at the king's words. Instead, he smiled softly, a hint of something unreadable in his gaze. He set the wine down and took a step closer, now directly in front of Sharrfan. "Of course, Your Majesty. Your strength is unquestionable. But I must remind you... sometimes strength alone is not enough to win a war. Sometimes, it takes... a different kind of strategy."
Sharrfan's gaze flickered toward Zahill. "What do you mean? What strategy do you have?"
"The issue here isn't just about defeating Eirindale," Zahill said, his tone shifting slightly, becoming more insistent. "It's about ensuring the safety of your daughter, Princess Reizha. She's their prisoner, and if we push too hard, they will do whatever they must to eliminate her. They might even kill her if you force their hand."
Sharrfan's jaw clenched. He knew the truth in Zahill's words. Reizha was the only piece Eirindale had in this cruel game. His mind raced—he could not afford to lose her. But Zahill continued, ever the manipulator, playing on Sharrfan's fears.
"You cannot risk losing her," Zahill added, his voice smooth, almost coaxing. "But also, remember—Eirindale is pushing us to a point where we may soon have no choice but to act. If we strike too hard, it could cost us everything. Your throne... your legacy... even your family."
Sharrfan's fingers curled into fists on the armrests of the throne. His heart was pounding in his chest, torn between his duty to his people and his duty to protect his daughter, Reizha. Zahill saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes and pressed further.
"Perhaps... the right course of action is not to fight directly. What if we make them see we have nothing to lose? What if we force them to back down without lifting a sword?"
Sharrfan raised an eyebrow. "How do you propose we do that?"
Zahill's smile grew, his eyes glinting with a cold calculation. "We could... make a statement. A move that would make it clear that you are willing to sacrifice everything—even Reizha—just to keep your crown. It will make them doubt your resolve to protect her. And then... they will know that you have nothing to lose."
Sharrfan's pulse quickened. Zahill's words seemed to pull at his deepest instincts. "You want me to use her as leverage?" he asked, almost in disbelief.
Zahill shook his head, his expression serene. "Not leverage, Your Majesty. I am suggesting a more... powerful message. If Eirindale sees that you are willing to risk your own blood for the throne, they will fear you. They will fear what you're capable of. They will hesitate."
"But what of Reizha?" Sharrfan whispered, more to himself than Zahill.
Zahill's voice dropped to a near whisper. "Sometimes, in war, sacrifices must be made. She is your daughter, yes, but she is also a tool. The world will remember how far you went for the throne. The message you send will make them reconsider any further demands. Besides, we all know your daughter's reputation... People have been executed simply because of her slander against those she dislikes."
"But... she is still my daughter," Sharrfan replied.
Sharrfan's mind raced. The weight of Zahill's words pressed upon him, pushing him into a corner where every decision felt like a losing move. But Zahill wasn't finished.
"Your people will see your resolve. They will understand that their king will not back down. That is the strength that will inspire them to fight. If you stand firm—if you show your willingness to sacrifice your own flesh and blood—then you will secure your reign. The world will respect you, even if they fear you."
Sharrfan sat in silence, the room heavy with the weight of Zahill's suggestion. A part of him recoiled at the thought of using his daughter as a pawn in this dangerous game. But another part of him, the part that had always longed to solidify his rule, felt the lure of Zahill's words. The idea of striking fear into the hearts of his enemies, of ensuring that Iskhalin would never again be looked down upon, seemed... intoxicating.
"I will think on it," Sharrfan finally muttered, his voice hoarse.
Zahill bowed his head slightly, his eyes never leaving Sharrfan. "Of course, Your Majesty. Take all the time you need. Just remember, the longer you hesitate, the more power Eirindale gains."
As Zahill turned to leave, he cast one last glance over his shoulder. "And remember... sometimes the greatest strength comes from the willingness to do what others cannot. What others would never dare."
The door closed behind him, leaving Sharrfan alone with his thoughts. The room felt colder now, as if the shadows had grown deeper. Zahill's words echoed in his mind, twisting, turning, until they became a mantra he could not shake. He should make a decision by tomorrow and discuss the strategy with all the commanders