❝Lost is a treasure and the soul,
Let's go on a journey to find them both.❞
A kingdom on the verge of doom, a prince captured in the cage of his ugly past, a girl lost in a maze of emotions and an inhuman man, threatening every existence of 'virtu...
The extra ink from the feather of Vultros creates a blot on the neat, parched paper. But the words had to be written. So the ink is once again spread on the blank sheet but this time with gentle and graceful movements. It creates shapes that announce 'danger', designs that scream 'help' and a seal that warns 'tragedy'.
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A paper is rolled, tied with a gold thread and is stuffed inside a royal casket.
"Your highness. The Sandlemoss is wet." A panicked noble courtier, Elvis Poison, rushes in, sweating profusely.
"The Eira is coming". The oddly calm third prince of Lyra, Alphanso Casio Dawn, mumbles.
Silence covered the room like blanket. However it certainly isn't a pleasant one. This silence is a mix of despair and desolation. This silence is haunting. This silence is an omen, a threat, a warning. It is suffocating and painful.
This silence prophesize that silence which will soon spread over the whole kingdom like an epidemic if this silence is not made silent forever.
"Send this epistle to The king of Quilan" prince announces without emotion in his voice.
Taking the casket in his hands, the prince marches towards his companion. Only to be halted in the mid-way.
"Your highness the king is dead." The scared courtier whispers.
Gathering his about-to-dissolve valour and hiding his trembling hands the prince speaks boldly "Tell us everything."
"They attacked at night as the cowards they are. Every man of Quilan was murdered, women were raped and children taken as hostages. The king was beheaded and hanged on the pole in the market. The prince's eyes were gauged out and hands slashed, the queen was taken by the army and was..." The courtier could not speak further.
The coil of fear is unrolling inside the prince. His courage is crushed, spirit damaged and hope destroyed. His legs are shaking and his mind is screaming 'This is what is coming for you'.
The casket in his hands turned into coffin. His worst nightmare was taking the shape of reality.
Darkness, predatory, is approaching slowly, feeding on his terror and absorbing all his strength.
"Pardon my boldness your highness. But a hermit is calling for you." A soldier, who had rushed in the royal chamber, spoke, during intervals of his quick breathing.
"How can you disturb his highness for a trivial matter. Is the powerful army of Lyra is not even capable to tame a man. Twenty bashes with hot iron are your punishment. You can leave now." The tensed courtier, now in anger, speaks harshly.
"But the hermit said the Daq can be defeated." The scared soldier whispered cautiously, expecting amnesty from his punishment.
A strong gush of wind escaped the bronze window bars and entered the room, amplifying the intensity of the chamber.
