The night had wrapped the earth like a black cloak; the moon shone as though it were an accomplice of the darkness, blessing the sky with its silver light. Yet, this glow was not enough to illuminate the fear gnawing at the hearts of the people. The same sentence echoed in everyone's mind: "King, you will destroy this kingdom." These words, spoken by the seers' family, had become more than a prophecy – they were now the harbinger of an impending doom. For what they had said had never failed to come true.
The kingdom had an army of 20,000; among them, 4,000 were archers, capable of piercing shadows with their arrows. Yet, this might seemed powerless against the relentless wheel of fate. Despair had seeped into the stone walls of the palace, silently settling into the hearts of the soldiers.
At that moment, a shadow appeared in the distance, on the edge of the horizon. A lone rider, challenging the night, rode toward the castle with a long spear in hand. The only sound breaking the silence was the rhythmic pounding of the horse's hooves on the earth. As the rider drew closer, something was noticed there was a dark silhouette hanging from the tip of the spear…
By the time the rider reached the castle, everyone held their breath. The king raised his hand to signal the archers: "Halt! This may be an envoy…"
But the figure that approached was not a messenger of peace; it was the very embodiment of hatred.
The rider drove his spear into the ground right in front of the castle. In the silver moonlight, the tip of the spear gleamed, and hanging from it was the severed head of the king's brother from the other kingdom. Time seemed to freeze for a moment. Then, a scream pierced the silence, ripping through the air.
"KILL THAT DOG!"
The king's voice echoed, as if splitting the sky. The archers' fingers gripped their bows, and tension hung heavy in the air. But the rider, like a child of the darkness, swiftly turned his horse and vanished into the pitch-black night. The arrows launched, slicing through the sky in pursuit, but only a few found their mark.
Whispers echoed along the castle walls, carried by the wind, settling into the stones. Now, it was no longer just war; the shadow of prophecy was drawing nearer.
Before the sun had fully risen, when the sky still held a faint orange hue, death silently approached. In the morning coolness, while the earth had yet to wake, the enemy was already awake and ready. A cavalry unit, moving like shadows, infiltrated the outer walls of the castle. The sound of their horses' hooves hammered the earth, their swords gleaming not with light, but with intent.
On the castle walls, 500 archers moved as one. Bows were drawn, breaths held. Then, the sky was torn by the hiss of metal. Hundreds of arrows sliced through the morning mist. And then... screams erupted from the enemy lines. Fifteen riders fell, their bodies thrown to the earth like bolts of lightning. Blood stained the wet soil, turning it into a crimson, thirsting red.
But death did not come through a single path.
The enemy's eyes were also trained upwards. From within the darkness, sharpshooters emerged, and in a single breath, they struck down 50 archers, hitting them squarely in the forehead. The bodies rolled silently from the castle parapets, falling to the ground below. Then, screams echoed, and the soldiers crouched behind their cover, watching their fallen comrades. With each passing moment, a piece of their hope slipped away.
The king sat motionless on his throne, but his eyes raged like a storm. His fists clenched the carved armrests of his throne as he shouted in fury:
"Put more archers on the walls!"
But the tremor in his voice was like the bare sound of desperation.
When the enemy withdrew, only 3,950 archers remained.
The second attack came under the cover of night.
The moon, barely illuminating the earth from the farthest corner of the sky, revealed the enemy once again. This time, they were much larger in number. Cavalry and infantry soldiers silently crept from the darkness, attempting to infiltrate the castle. The alarm bells rang; 1,000 archers, with eyes piercing the dark, drew their bows.
And once again, the arrows blended with the night.
But the enemy was prepared. Shields were raised, and amidst the tension of drawn bows and ragged breaths, most of the arrows helplessly clattered against iron and fell to the ground. Only 20 enemy soldiers became victims of this skyward rain.
But the real devastation came from above once more.
The enemy archers, now more ruthless, more deadly, and faster than before, took down the 200 archers on the castle walls with deadly precision. The bodies slid down the stone walls, and the remaining soldiers watched these silent falls with eyes full of fear. Each of them trembled like a victim waiting for their turn.
The cavalry threw several torches at the gates. The flames licked the wooden doors, but the soldiers rushed to extinguish the fire with all their might. Yet, this small victory could not ease the pain of the greater loss.
Only 3,750 archers remained.
And the king, with a cry of despair, emptied his soul:
"These dogs weaken us with every attack!"
This time, his voice trembled not just with rage but with the echo of a faith running dry.
There was an unrest on the castle walls that would not subside. The people inside felt the deepening fear with every passing moment. Women and children screamed in terror, their cries echoing as they were consumed by the threat surrounding the castle. The men, armed with weapons, wandered in panic, not knowing what to do. Every whispered word reflected another lost hope:
"The king cannot protect us!"
The weight of the prophecy grew more pronounced with every heartbeat. The words spoken turned into truth with every echo. Eyes, filled more and more with fear, were increasingly turned toward the king, desperate and lost.
And then, it came. The third assault began with the first light of dawn. Before the light had even turned yellow, a cavalry unit charged toward the castle. This army, carrying nothing but death and destruction in its heart, aimed directly at the archers. 2,000 archers raised their bows at once, but the enemy, as if specially prepared for this battle, was more experienced and more bloodthirsty. Spears and arrows took down the archers who had barely survived the night. 500 more archers tumbled down the cold stone walls. Blood seeped into the stones; in that moment, even in the farthest corners of the castle, the bodies began to pile up.
The enemy withdrew after losing 30 men, but this retreat seemed not like a defeat, but like a promise of a wait yet to come. With every loss, the archers grew smaller; from the original 3,250 archers, only a body remained.
The king screamed frantically from his throne:
"Is this how they'll defeat me?!"
He slammed his fist down on the war map. The table shook.
"Pile all the soldiers on the walls!"
But the generals knew how impossible it was to carry out this order. Their men were running out; with every passing hour, the defenses grew weaker.
The fourth hit-and-run attack took place in the depths of the night. This time, the enemy came with stealthy foot soldiers. Figures, blending into the darkness, moved step by step toward the castle walls. The archers focused their eyes on the night, but the enemy melted away into the shadows. However, patience would once again win the day. The archers drew their bows, and the arrows soared through the air. 25 enemy soldiers fell to the ground.
But the retaliation was fierce. This time, the enemy's sharp-shooters aimed directly at the archers, killing 300 more. Bodies fell to the earth one by one, each paying the painful price of war. When they retreated, only 2,950 archers remained in the castle.
The people, just like the archers, were wearing down. Cries rose toward the sky; mothers wept, clutching their children. Among the loudest voices echoing through the streets of the castle was one that carried the bitter sting of betrayal:
"The king has sold us out!"
Once a people who had embraced their king with trust, now they felt the sting of treason.
The fifth hit-and-run attack came at noon, when the sun was directly overhead. A large cavalry unit, 2,000 soldiers strong, charged toward the castle. The archers once again dug into the earth, pulling back their bows. Hundreds of arrows sliced through the air, heading toward the enemy lines. 40 enemy soldiers fell victim to this deadly rain. But the enemy, growing more determined by the minute, retaliated with the same barrage of arrows aimed directly at the archers. 700 archers were killed in an instant.
The siege of the castle was nearly complete. The number of archers had dwindled to 2,250. As the king watched this scene from his window, his face turned as pale as a corpse.
"They will destroy us..."
His words, like echoes falling into a deep void, disappeared into the yellowed walls. The generals exchanged desperate looks, utterly at a loss. They had no idea what to do next.
They were in the depth of an endless wait. Time passed much faster from the castle walls than anywhere else.
Night was woven with silence. The campfires rising from the distant mountain peaks whispered how close the enemy was. War drums struck deep, ghost-like against the stone walls of the castle. This time, it wasn't a hit-and-run; it was preparation for the final victory. The enemy spent the night in the shadow of the destruction they would bring at dawn.
At the first light of morning, a massive army of 50,000 moved toward the castle. On the castle walls, there were only 2,250 archers. The enemy, with heavily armored soldiers at the front, advanced like a colossal wall. The archers drew their bows, and the arrows soared through the air, but the enemy's armor rendered each shot ineffective. The armor was as tough as steel. The enemy archers and catapults were deployed, and with each arrow they launched, another archer fell to the ground. In the first wave, 1,000 archers dropped; in the second wave, another 800. As the castle gates were battered, in the final clash, 250 more archers perished.
Only 200 archers remained.
The king sat on his throne, desperately holding his head in his hands. In his eyes, there was the helplessness of a leader who had lost the war. "The seers were right..." he whispered, his voice echoing with the darkness of despair. The people in the streets were in panic. Those praying, those trying to escape... Cries echoed at every corner, and the weight of the prophecy was crushing everyone.
As the enemy army broke through the castle gates, war cries filled the night. The 200 archers drew their bows for one last stand. But everyone knew, this was the beginning of the end. The castle was doomed to fall under the shadow of the prophecy.
While the king sat hopelessly on his throne, suddenly, Ari came to his mind. His eyes widened, and he lifted his head, turning to his generals. "Go! Go and bring Ari! Find him, quickly! Get him out of the Ash Pit!" he ordered, his voice carrying both panic and a glimmer of hope. The generals looked at each other in shock, but when they saw the frantic look in the king's eyes, they immediately sprang into action. A group of guards mounted their horses and set out toward the Ash Pit.
However, at that moment, Ari, with Thanar's help, had already emerged from the Ash Pit. They were approaching the castle, and beside him, Kael was hastening his steps, moving forward with determination. The guards doubled their efforts, searching the dusty roads to find them. Eventually, over a hill, they spotted Ari and Kael. As the two sides faced each other, Ari and Kael immediately drew their swords and took a defensive stance. The guards were numerous at least 30 but something unexpected happened. The leader of the guards stepped forward, raised his arms, and dropped his sword to the ground. The other guards followed suit, one by one dropping their swords to the earth.
Ari furrowed his brows, looking at the guards. "What's going on?" he asked, suspicion in his voice.
The leader of the guards stepped forward and said, "The kingdom is falling, we didn't come to kill you. The king is calling for you. Hurry, we need to get to the king!"
Kael whispered to Ari, "Don't trust them, Ari. Just because they dropped their weapons, what changes? I'm telling you, don't trust those pigs." But the guards were insistent. One stepped forward and said, "Ari, your grandfather's final prophecy came true. The kingdom is falling! The king is destroying the kingdom. We must hurry!"
Ari's eyes briefly glazed over. The revenge of his family, the moments when his 9,000-year-old bloodline was slaughtered, resurfaced in his mind. While his family was being destroyed, the king's soldiers had watched in silence, no one had opposed it. His anger surged; he clenched his fists and coldly said, "I don't care about the kingdom." "You remained silent, now why should I speak?"
One of the guards hesitated but stepped forward and delivered the final blow:
"Lari… Lari is with the king. If the enemies take the castle, Lari will die."
This sentence turned Ari's world upside down. His heart began to pound in his chest, and his eyes widened. Lari... Her name instantly erased all of Ari's anger, all of his desire for revenge. "Lari..." he whispered, then suddenly started running. Toward the castle, with all his strength, as if his life depended on it. Kael yelled behind him, "This kid's insane! Where are you going?!" But Ari didn't even hear him. His steps kicked up dust, and as he neared the castle, his breath became ragged.
The guards and Kael chased after Ari. Kael, both angry and anxious, muttered to himself, "Trusting these pigs... this is stupidity!" But Ari wasn't seeing anything around him.
When Ari arrived at the castle, he was breathless. With every step, he felt his heart beating faster; it was as if he were approaching the final moments of his life. As the guards and Kael ran behind him, Ari moved forward with determined steps. His eyes read the marks of war surrounding the castle the walls cracked, arrows embedded in the stone, and corpses lying on the ground... All of these showed the depth of the destruction once again. The war drums of the enemy army shook the castle, and the blows to the gates seemed to cry out with every strike that the end was near.
When he entered, he saw the remaining 200 archers desperately fighting on the walls. Their faces were tired, each one watching the battle with their last strength. But Ari didn't pause for a second and continued moving toward the Throne Room.
When the doors opened wide, he entered, and his eyes immediately found the king sitting on the throne. But this was no longer the glorious kingdom of old. The king sat on his throne, but his eyes were sunken, his hands trembling, and his face was pale. Beside him stood Lari. Lari's hands were free, but her eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and resistance. When Ari entered, Lari's eyes immediately found him, and she rushed toward him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, with tears welling up in her eyes, she whispered, "Ari, you came! I knew you wouldn't leave me!"
Ari froze for a moment as he felt Lari's warmth. His heart seemed to stop for a beat, then he tightened his embrace. All the anger, thirst for revenge, and dark thoughts instantly faded. Lari's presence brought back the humanity that had been lost within him.
When the king saw Ari, he leaped from his throne. "Ari! You came!" he cried out, his voice caught between fear and hope. "Save me! Save the kingdom! The prophets were right, but you… you can stop this!"
Ari didn't even hear the king's pleas. His eyes were locked on Lari. Lari's desperate yet determined gaze reignited the fire within him. Neither the king's words nor the echoes of voices in the throne room could reach Ari. Just then, a warrior stumbled into the room, covered in blood, wounds all over his body. "My king! My king!" he shouted weakly. "We went out to fight, but… the enemies… they're close to breaking through… we're losing the war" Before he could finish, he collapsed and died.
The room was instantly filled with panic. Ari suddenly called out, "Thanar!" Lari, the guards, and the king looked at each other in confusion. "Ari, who are you calling? Who is Thanar?" they asked. Then a voice echoed: "I am the line between life and death. The kingdom is on the brink of death. What do you want, Ari?"
Ari, with fury, shouted, "Help! I need help, save the kingdom!" But Thanar responded coldly, "So, you want immortality. The price for that is Lari's blood. I need him."
In an instant, Thanar appeared in the room. He was a terrifying figure; outside, lightning cracked, and thunder roared. When he appeared in the king's room, everyone but Ari screamed in fear. "Who is this?" they shouted. Thanar wrapped his shadowy hands around Lari's neck and continued, "Ari, the immortal king will rise. The legend will come true. Are you ready? In exchange for the only person you still love, I will take your blood."
Lari, willing to sacrifice himself for Ari and the kingdom, said, "Yes, let Ari and the kingdom live forever." Ari, shouting "No!" with all his might, stood firm, using every ounce of his strength to resist.
And at that moment, Ari realized he had to make a choice between the immortality of the kingdom and the life of those he loved. Lari's safety would be the most important decision he would ever make.