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Bells rang through the damp air, their low, slow tones echoing like a funeral dirge across the kingdom of Eldoria. The sky, veiled by an incessant storm, seemed to weep in unison.

Cold rain hammered the rooftops and cobblestones, turning the royal gardens into a sea of dark, muddy puddles. In the midst of this deluge, a young boy ran breathlessly, his skinny legs slipping on the wet paths. His heart pounded in his chest.

With a desperate gesture, he pushed open the heavy palace doors. They swung wide with a deafening creak. The cold rushed into the corridors, and the soldiers standing guard turned sharply, alerted.

“Stop him!” one of them shouted, seeing the boy charge forward without restraint.

But he was quick, and his small size allowed him to evade their outstretched hands. Wet boots clicked against polished marble as he sprinted through the great hall, his slight frame dwarfed by the towering ceilings.

He finally reached the immense golden doors of the throne room. The two guards stationed in front moved to block his path, but he slipped past them, ducking under their arms. The doors burst open, their impact reverberating through the vast chamber.

Silence fell.

Inside, the king sat on his gilded throne, draped in a heavy fur cloak, his purple velvet robes spilling over the carved armrests.

The gathered nobles murmured in hushed, startled tones at the sudden intrusion.

The guards rushed after the boy, one of them seizing him roughly by the shoulder.

But the boy struggled, his voice rising in desperation, cutting through the sacred silence.

“I have… I have a message for the king,” he gasped.

The king lifted a hand. The soldier froze, then released the boy.

“Speak,” the king commanded, his voice deep, steady.

With trembling fingers, the boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper, soaked through by the rain.

He held it out with both hands.

“It’s…” he hesitated, the words catching in his throat.

“It’s your son, Your Majesty. He’s dead.”

The throne room fell silent.

And in that oppressive stillness, a truth returned to the king. A truth he had spent his life trying to forget.

The gods do not forget.

They only wait.

And what had been sown in greed and betrayal shall be harvested in fire and blood.