Forest Andosen – Evening
Lanterns glowed softly beneath the towering trees of the sacred forest.
Mist curled along the ground like wandering spirits.
At the center of the clearing, Queen Cara's casket was placed with the utmost care.
The royal family stood before it.
King Liam.
Prince Kabul.
Prince Abenator.
All three bowed their heads.
Around them, the people of Taytozena gathered in silence—humans and magical beings alike.
Fairies hovered gently in the air, their light dimmed in mourning.
Witches and wizards stood in solemn stillness.
The final rites were about to begin.
And with them…
A new chapter of fate would unfold.
The sacred forest of Andosen trembled with quiet sorrow.
Voices rose into the evening air—low, rhythmic, and powerful.
Witches and wizards stood in a wide circle, their hands lifted as they chanted ancient incantations. Their voices intertwined, weaving a spell of peace meant to guide the departed soul gently into the beyond.
Above them, fairies drifted like falling stars, scattering glowing dust that shimmered across the forest. The air itself seemed alive, illuminated by soft, ethereal light.
At the edge of the clearing, dwarfs beat their drums.
Slow.
Steady.
Like the heartbeat of a grieving world.
Before the Queen's casket, the royal guards stepped forward in perfect formation. Their movements were sharp yet graceful as they performed the Dance of Leap—a sacred ritual reserved only for royalty, meant to guide the soul safely into the spirit realm.
"Hu! Ha! Haha! Huhu!"
Their voices echoed in unison, rising and falling with the rhythm of the drums.
One by one, the people of Taytozena approached.
Each carried a lantern.
Each carried a piece of grief.
Tears shimmered in their eyes as they knelt beside the flowing waters of the River Sharr, placing their lanterns upon its surface. The lights drifted gently downstream, forming a river of stars—guiding their Queen on her final journey.
At the center of it all stood King Liam.
A guard approached him, presenting a flaming arrow.
For a moment, Liam said nothing.
He simply stared at it—his reflection flickering in the fire.
Then, with a heavy heart, he turned to his son.
"It's your turn, my son," he said softly.
Prince Kabul stepped forward.
His face was streaked with tears, his chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths.
He took the arrow.
Memories flooded his mind—her laughter, her warmth, her voice.
His hands trembled.
But he did not falter.
Drawing in a deep breath, Kabul raised the bow.
And released.
The flaming arrow cut through the night sky like a falling star.
It struck the casket.
A gentle fire bloomed.
Flames danced softly, not with destruction—but with release. Smoke curled upward, carrying with it the spirit of the Queen toward the heavens.
Behind him, Abenator watched.
His fists clenched tightly.
His jaw locked.
His entire body trembled—not with grief…
But with something far more dangerous.
"Always him…" he muttered under his breath, his voice dark and sharp. "Never me."
The words burned within him.
And then—
He snapped.
Abenator lunged forward.
His fist struck Kabul across the cheek with sudden, violent force.
The sound echoed through the clearing.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Guards rushed in immediately, pulling the two princes apart.
"Step back!" one of them shouted. "Maintain order!"
Kabul staggered slightly, wiping blood from the corner of his lips.
His chest heaved.
His eyes burned—not just with pain…
But with restrained fury.
Abenator, on the other hand, only smirked.
But beneath that smirk lay something deeper.
Something darker.
Something growing.
Slowly, the forest fell silent once more.
The drums faded.
The chants softened.
The lanterns continued their quiet journey along the river, glowing softly beneath the evening mist.
And as the Queen's casket drifted into the distance, the kingdom watched in silence.
That night…
Something changed.