The Weight of a Broken Oath
The heavy scent of frankincense and burning wax filled the grand cathedral of Oakhaven.
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- 1、The Weight of a Broken Oath
- 2、The Flawed Heir
- 3、The Rebellion of the Relic
- 4、The Shadow's Awakening
- 5、The Kneeling Lords
Outside, the winter wind howled against the stained-glass windows, but inside, the air was suffocatingly still.
A thousand nobles dressed in velvet and gold held their collective breath beneath the vaulted ceilings.
Upon the dais carved from obsidian stone sat King Alistair, his frail fingers gripping the arms of his throne.
He looked down at his only living grandson, Prince Julian, who knelt on a velvet cushion below.
Julian's posture was rigid, trained from birth to bear the immense burden of the realm.
Generations of monarchs had ruled these lands under the watchful eye of the Sun Crown.
It was an artifact forged by ancient sorcerers and bound by blood covenants that could never be broken.
Or so the reigning bloodline had told the common folk for three hundred years.
Alas, power breeds paranoia, and the royal family had spent decades rewriting the histories to protect their grip on the throne.
The Flawed Heir
Prince Julian was not the saintly savior the propaganda pamphlets claimed him to be.
Behind closed doors, his cruelty was legendary, masked only by his talent for public speaking.
King Alistair knew the truth, yet he had conspired to place the crown upon Julian's head anyway.
Survival of the dynasty mattered far more to the old king than justice or divine favor.
The high priest stepped forward holding the ancient, jagged circlet upon a satin pillow.
The metal seemed dull, almost like blackened iron, waiting for the rightful king's blood to awaken it.
Julian raised his chin proudly, ready to claim the absolute authority that came with the office.
The nobles murmured in approval, eager to return to their feasts and endless taxation of the poor.
Yet, deep within the shadows of the massive stone pillars, a young maid watched with hollow eyes.
Her name was Maeve, and her hands were permanently scarred from years of scrubbing royal floors.
The Rebellion of the Relic
The high priest raised the heavy metal crown above Prince Julian's meticulously styled blonde hair.
Alistair leaned forward, his cloudy eyes gleaming with a mixture of desperate hope and dark anxiety.
The priest began to chant the ancient incantation that bound the sovereign to the soil.
Just as the metal descended toward Julian's brow, the crown violently shuddered.
A sharp, electric hum vibrated through the stone floor, rattling the wine goblets on nearby tables.
The high priest cried out as the cold iron suddenly burned his palms with white-hot fury.
The crown wrenched itself out of his grasp, defying every law of gravity and tradition.
It hovered in mid-air for a fraction of a second, pulsing with a deep, furious crimson light.
Then, like a falcon spotting its prey, it shot sideways across the cavernous throne room.
Screams echoed off the marble walls as nobles scrambled backward in absolute terror.
Guards reached for their swords, but they were entirely powerless against the floating anomaly.
