Disclaimer: This book is a fictional a book, and is based purely on my imagination. Non of the events that occur in this are real. It is only for entertainment purposes. Enjoy!
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A man cloaked in crimson entered the grand throne room, his hood shadowing his face. In his hand, he carried a scroll, its rich red and gold hues catching the flickering torchlight. Power emanated from the scroll, an almost tangible force that made the air heavy. The King of Callus shifted uncomfortably on his throne, though he hid it well. What could be written within to command such a presence? He could feel the weight of it even from a distance, and an involuntary shiver ran down his spine.
The Messenger stopped a few paces from the dais, his head held high. Though he carried the posture of respect, the king's sharp eyes did not miss the subtle defiance in the man's gaze.
The King's face hardened, his lips pressing into a thin line. No bow, no formal address. A lesser man might have been struck down for such insolence.
"What have you brought me, Messenger?" the King demanded, his voice cold and sharp as steel. He leaned forward, scrutinizing the man as if he were no more than the dirt clinging to the hem of his own robes.
The Messenger said nothing at first. Instead, he unraveled the scroll with deliberate slowness, the parchment crackling softly in the silence. The sigil upon it, a crescent moon encircled by stars, was unmistakable. The King stiffened.
"The Prophecy of the Moon Child," the Messenger declared, his voice deep and steady.
The King's breath caught, his composure cracking for the briefest of moments. His fingers gripped the arms of his throne, knuckles whitening. The Prophecy. No, not just any prophecy—that prophecy.
For those who remembered, those who dared to whisper of it in the dark of night, knew what the Moon Child foretold. And who.
The Messenger stood impassively, unbothered by the growing dread in the king's eyes. He cared nothing for the weight of the scroll's contents, nor for the fear it clearly struck into the man before him. His duty was simply to deliver it, and that duty was now complete.
The King's voice, usually firm and commanding, was barely above a whisper as he asked, "What is written within?"
The Messenger did not answer. He simply turned on his heel and strode out of the throne room, leaving the scroll and its ominous power in the hands of the king.
The king's gaze fell to the scroll, its presence oppressive and inescapable. Could this truly be my end?
No one had dared speak of the Moonborn bloodline for decades, yet now it loomed before him. Whatever the scroll contained, he knew one thing for certain: the balance of power was about to shift.
And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Child of the moon, their fate is clear,
Destined to rise, their reign draws near.
Wronged in the past, vengeance they seek,
A storm is coming; the future is bleak.
Are they coming? Undeniably so,
Bringing an end to the seeds you sow.
Lives shall falter, death shall reign,
Bloodied paths and searing pain.
Necks shall bleed, and flames shall roar,
A reckoning waits at every door.
For blood once spilled, the price is steep,
Tenfold returned, no peace to keep.
Kingdoms shall fall, yet peace they'll restore,
Through fire and chaos, the Moonborn swore.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
The Last One : Rheastryal Moonborn
FantasíaRheastryal Moonborn had always believed his parents left him, and that Levlin, his chosen brother, was the only family he truly had. Then one day a stranger arrived, claiming Rheastryal was the rightful prince of the Kingdom of Aress. Surely this st...
