In a dark hall where iron chains hung from the ceiling, screeching with a terrifying metallic cry, Centaurus sat upon his stone throne. Blue flames danced around him like souls freed from endless torment. Suddenly, the great gate swung open, and the female knight stepped forward slowly, her body still carrying the traces of the lustful manipulation she had used to extract the information.
She knelt before her master and said in a voice filled with satisfaction:
"He spoke, my king… Yan and her son, Dandyrn, are now on the Island of Rotting Death."
Silence filled the hall for a moment before Centaurus's deep voice echoed like the roar of mountains splitting apart:
"The Island of Rotting Death… what a fitting name for them."
A twisted smile spread across his face as he rose to his feet, his gigantic form cloaked in the very shadow of terror itself. He approached the knight, lifting her chin with his rough hand as though inspecting her accomplishment, then whispered with a tone laced with cruel amusement:
"The Kiss of Death… how cunning you are."
Suddenly, he stepped away and raised his right hand into the air. From the shadows emerged the remaining six knights, their grotesque bodies swaying unnaturally, while the screams of trapped souls echoed from within them.
Centaurus roared as he pointed toward them:
"Go! Bring me Yan and her son… I want them alive. As for you…" — he turned his gaze toward the female knight — "you will not accompany them this time. You… have another task."
The knight bowed her head, a wicked smile curling upon her bloodstained lips.
"As you command, my lord."
And so the Seven Knights departed — or rather, six of them — opening gateways of shadow as they carved their path toward the island, while she remained behind in the darkness, awaiting her master's next command.
Hours later, within the throne hall, black flames burned inside stone braziers, releasing foul smoke that choked the air. Women in torn garments sat upon the cold floor, their bodies exhausted from long journeys, their eyes hollow as though their souls had already been stripped away the moment they performed the Dance of Hujja in their distant palaces.
Centaurus stood tall before them, his ember-like eyes wandering across their faces with cold cruelty, like a hunter choosing which prey to slaughter first. He knew none of them had come willingly; they had been sent as sacrifices from their kingdoms, part of an ancient ritual to appease him and avoid his wrath.
He let out a harsh laugh that echoed across the chamber.
"The most beautiful women of the kingdoms… thrown before me like lambs. And each one of you dreams of becoming my favorite, does she not?"
One of them trembled — a blonde girl with eyes as blue as a winter sky. Centaurus approached her, lifting strands of her long hair in his hand before whispering coldly into her ear:
"From this moment on… your life no longer belongs to you. Your body… your soul… even your name, all belong to me."
A mocking smile crossed his face as he turned toward the other trembling women beneath his gaze.
"The Dance of Hujja was merely the beginning. Here… there is no dance. Here, there is only obedience… and eternal submission."
He gestured toward the guards, who immediately seized the women and dragged them one by one into the dark corridors of the palace, where their identities would be erased and they would become nothing more than tools in the tyrant's hands.
And beneath those vile rituals, no one dared protest or even breathe too loudly, for every kingdom knew that whoever refused… would be erased from existence.
Dandyrn sat upon the balcony of his stone palace within the Phoenix Fire Mountains, while the cold wind played with his short black hair. He raised his right hand, and upon his shoulder rested a massive black raven whose crimson eyes burned like glowing embers. Dandyrn extended a finger toward the bird's chest, tracing strange symbols that glowed briefly before fading away.
He spoke slowly, as though his words were commands carved directly into the creature's soul:
"Go… carry my message to my brothers. The time for gathering has come. After today, nothing will remain as it once was."
The raven launched into the sky with a piercing cry that tore through the mountain air. Soon, three more ravens emerged from the shadows of the palace, as though they had been awaiting the command all along. They scattered across different horizons, each knowing its destination with perfect certainty, as though the hearts of the seven brothers were bound together by a single invisible thread.
Yan stood silently behind her son, watching him. Within herself, she thought:
"Fate has begun moving its pieces… and my sons are the first to be summoned onto the board of war."