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Artos King of the Second Realm, Ruler of the House of Bruin

“ T hat’s preposterous,” I snapped at the young scribe. “You’re simply mistaken.”

Enda’s translation echoed in my mind. The king’s reign will shatter in his tragic demise. When the royal scribe had called for a private audience with me, I’d assumed she had made progress deciphering the prophecy. But this? This was lunacy.

“Your Highness, respectfully, I know I’m relatively young, but I have dedicated my entire life to this.

I was trained by your highest-ranking scribes to ensure the realm had a new generation capable of translating the ancient tomes.

” Enda pushed up the navy-blue sleeves of her robe, exposing what I already knew was emblazoned on her forearms. The coveted marks of a Hiraethian scribe were only awarded once an apprentice had transcended to the highest levels.

“I’ve devoted my life to transcribing the Divine word.

” She looked up at me, a pained look in her icy blue eyes.

“I cannot change the words simply to appease the throne. Although alarming, the text is clear.”

Enda spoke with gentle conviction. Her delicate fingers trembled as she traced the symbols within the ancient tome. She repeated the translation once again. “‘The raptor shall feast where the bruin once roared.’”

I fought the growing unease in my throat and swallowed hard. The musty vanilla scent of the scriptorium—once comforting—now invaded my senses like a thick, bile-inducing fog.

Enda ignored my obvious displeasure and continued with the offending prophecy. “‘The king’s reign will shatter in his tragic demise. For the ring forged in righteousness shall crack, and the tyrant’s reign shall become rule.’”

The cold stone walls of the alcove felt suffocating as the reality of the situation closed in around me. Tragic demise? What was she implying? I stood up from the table, anxiously pacing.

The ring forged in righteousness.

Spinning the Bloodstone Sigil around my little finger, I contemplated the weight of her words.

The ring was deceptively light despite the power it carried.

Inside, it pulsed with the lifeblood of Hiraeth’s great houses, bound by oath and sacrifice.

A relic of unity, worn only by the reigning king, its magic was meant to shield, to strengthen, to command.

Now it felt like a curse foretelling my demise.

My beautiful queen’s belly was beginning to swell with our first litter.

Danya and I had struggled to conceive, and without an heir to the throne, my line was vulnerable.

Herold, the standing lord from the House of Rapere, was the appointed steward.

If this ridiculousness got out... I shuddered at the thought.

I pulled in a cleansing breath, reasoning with my trepidation, and centered myself.

Enda was wrong. She had to be.

“I was able to translate a substantial portion of the text. Shall I continue?” she asked, pausing—the color draining from her face.

I’d held on to the possibility that the Divine had offered a way out of this dark premonition, but the stark look on Enda’s face quickly diminished any hope I had left.

I allowed my eyes to focus on the endless rows of books and scrolls lining the walls outside the alcove.

A room once bustling with scribes was now cold and quiet.

Countless years of history and prophecy were housed within its confines.

Not once had we faced such a dire future.

“I’m sorry. Yes, please—continue.”

Enda’s voice trembled. “‘The waters, once pure, shall run black with betrayal. The harvest will wither and decay in fields once bountiful. For the land itself shall rise against the hand that bears the ring.’”

“I think I’ve heard enough.”

“My Lord, there is one more thing. The prophecy mentions a human. I haven’t completely figured out the context, but the word is littered throughout the text.”

“A human?” I questioned, shaking my head at the absurdity of her words. “Do any of your supposed translations end with me keeping the crown?”

She remained silent, her lips pressed together in a thin line—and it was all the answer I needed.

I forced a nervous chuckle, trying to lighten the darkness washing over our meeting.

“I have always respected your knowledge of the old language, Enda.

You're one of the last living Hiraethians who can decipher the old text within the Book of Astrium. But your translation is simply incorrect.”

“It is clear, My Lord. The prophecy states you will fall from your position of power in Hiraeth.”

“You are wrong,” I said, pulling the tome toward me, scanning the ancient text that looked like random scratches on the page. “These glyphs could mean any number of things.” I pushed the dusty book back toward her and lowered my tone. “Try again.”

“My Lord”—she bowed her head—“I mean no disrespect. The prophecy is what it is. My translations are accurate. We must begin planning for the inevitable.”

“You will try again,” I pleaded, “or I’ll have no choice but to take action.”

She looked up at me from the table, her chin held high. “My Lord, I... I—” she paused. “My position as royal scribe is to translate the prophecy. I hold that responsibility in the highest regard. I will not sully my name with a lie. I stand by my translations.”

“You understand that if this information were to get out to the people, my life—my legacy—would be in danger. Lord Herold would see this as an opportunity to usurp the kingdom for his own personal gain. If your translations are correct, he will single-handedly destroy all of Hiraeth.”

“Yes, My Lord.” She hung her head in defeat. “I understand the weight of the situation.”

“Then I have no other options before me. The prophecy must remain secret.” I bowed my head to Enda. “Thank you for your selfless sacrifice and service to the realm.”

Enda bravely looked me in the eyes, tears silently falling down her cheeks.

“I accept my fate. It’s been my honor to serve you, My Lord.

” She bowed before me, returning the Book of Astrium to my hands.

I tapped my pocket, anxiously feeling for the skeleton key.

The book must be returned to its home—locked away from prying eyes.

Before she could sway my decision, I turned my back to her, leaving the alcove and the young scribe behind me. Being king required you to think of the greater good. Compassion and humanity could often lead you astray. I had to make a choice that protected my people. A choice to save the realm.

Unfortunately for Enda, her time in this incarnation was about to come to an end.

Closing the heavy door of the scriptorium behind me, I stopped to inform the guard of my decision. Enda’s death was to be quick and painless.

“Make sure she is buried in a place of honor. This meeting never happened.”

It was time to plan Herold’s assassination.