The sky above Levian was painted in solemn grays, and the city wore its grief like a heavy cloak. Bells tolled—slow, deliberate, hollow. The capital mourned the death of King Lucen Hale.
Atop the marble steps of the citadel, the royal court gathered in silence. Crimson-robed envoys from the Red Crown stood with heads bowed—faces unreadable behind their enchanted veils. Among them, Sovereign Kael Vireon watched the crowd, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Beneath the solemnity, the city's heartbeat trembled.
Far below, in the archives' deepest vault, Leon Vael pulled a worn leather-bound book from a false shelf. Hidden in the spine, a second scroll—his secret copy of the king's true final decree.
But today, something new awaited him.
Another parchment lay open on the table. It bore the royal sigil—but the words… were not the king's.
The ink was dry. The style mimicked Lucen's hand, but the tone… it reeked of Kael.
Leon's breath caught.
"But this… this isn't the one they brought the day of the king's death. That forged decree had fresh ink and no signs of wear. This one is older—no, crafted to appear older."
His hands trembled.
"Someone forged another lie. A deeper lie. One meant to overwrite even the first forgery."
A noise.He hid both scrolls quickly—his forged copy and the newly found deceit—beneath the archive floorboards.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
He exhaled slowly. The rebellion he carried was no longer just a spark.
It was now a war of truths—buried, rewritten, and soon... unleashed.