The dusk fell over Levian, draping the kingdom in shades of violet and rust. A cold breeze curled between the towers, and somewhere beyond the citadel walls, crows shrieked above the amber trees.
Inside the forbidden chamber of the Royal Archives, Leon Vael knelt beneath the arch of ancient scrolls. In his trembling hands lay the forged decree—the one Kael Vireon's envoys had delivered.
He lit a candle with a snap of his fingers, whispering a minor spark charm—
"Ignis Lucerna" — Let the flame light the lamp.
Golden flame bloomed, casting shadows across the dust-laden scroll.
Leon's jaw tightened as he unrolled the false document. The ink shimmered unnaturally. It was forged with shadow magic.
He exhaled slowly. His right hand hovered over the parchment, fingers tracing an invisible circle in the air.
He whispered the forbidden spell:
"Veritas Exsolve" — Let the truth unravel.
At once, the chamber darkened. The candlelight dimmed. From his palm, a soft blue glow spread, wrapping the scroll in a translucent veil.
Symbols—unseen by ordinary eyes—began to surface beneath the ink.
He read them aloud:
"Let it be known, by the Crown's command, Sovereign Kael Vireon is hereby named rightful ruler of Levian…"
But another layer appeared—fainter, older, etched in golden runes:
"This decree is born of false light. No truth may bind it."
Leon's breath hitched. He gritted his teeth.
"So it was crafted with illusion." He closed his eyes and laid his palm flat against the scroll.
The wind outside howled louder, and the tower walls groaned. Magic resonated through the archive.
Then, a second voice echoed—one not his own.
A memory spell. Embedded within.
King Lucen's voice:
"If this parchment ever finds the light, know this—Levian stands not with the red. My heir lies hidden. Truth is not in the ink, but in the blood."
Leon gasped. He staggered backward, knocking over a stack of tomes.
He had seen enough.
He rolled the forged decree and sealed it again, placing it back in the archive's false drawer.
He turned toward the window.
Outside, the moon had risen—a pale sentinel in the darkening sky.
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
"Then we are at war."