An Oath of Lies
On that night, the gates of Thornvale Palace were sealed shut.
No one was allowed in… or out.
Inside the royal wing, the queen’s screams echoed against the stone walls, while the guards stood like silent statues, their eyes tense.
Outside… the nobles whispered.
“The heir.”
“He must be strong…”
Then—
A baby’s cry.
Everything stopped.
Moments later, the midwife stepped out, her expression marked with clear astonishment.
“Your Highness…” she said, bowing, “the prince… his Ruen is unusually high.”
The whispers turned to shock.
“Impossible…”
“Was he born chosen?”
But before the tension could settle—
Another cry.
Weaker.
Colder.
Faces changed instantly.
“What was that?”
The midwives exchanged glances, then one of them stepped out slowly… this time without a smile.
“…There is another prince.”
A heavy silence.
“Twins?”
She hesitated, then said:
“But… his Ruen is almost nonexistent.”
Even the air grew heavy.
One prince born as a miracle…
And another, as if he did not belong to this world.
Page 2
The palace did not calm down.
Despite the announcement of the prince’s birth, the air remained taut like a string on the verge of snapping. The torches burned steadily, but the shadows they cast seemed longer… heavier.
The king stood at the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on the first child.
“Everett…” he said slowly, as if testing the weight of the name.
The infant was strangely calm, his eyes half-open, holding an unusual gleam for a newborn.
The king reached out and touched the child’s forehead.
One moment was enough.
A rare smile lifted the corner of his mouth.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he said without looking at anyone.
One of the advisors bowed immediately.
“His Ruen… is clear, my lord.”
“Clear?” the king repeated, letting out a faint laugh.
“This is not clarity… this is a promise.”
A brief silence, filled with pride.
“This is my heir.”
At the other end of the room… the silence was different.
The queen sat quietly, holding the second child in her arms.
Smaller. Weaker. His breaths were so light they seemed as though they might disappear if the sound rose even slightly.
Bennett.
She looked at him for a long time, as if trying to memorize every detail.
A midwife approached and whispered cautiously:
“Your Highness… should—”
The queen raised her eyes calmly—one glance was enough to silence her.
Her gaze returned to her child.
Her fingers brushed gently across his cheek.
“He’s warm…” she whispered, as if reassuring herself.
A few steps away, the king finally turned.
He looked at the child in her arms.
His expression changed… not anger, but something closer to rejection.
“This is the other one?”
The queen did not answer.
He stepped closer, examining him as if searching for something… anything.
But there was nothing.
No glow. No presence. No trace.
Just a child.
He exhaled slowly, then turned away.
“No need to announce him.”
The words fell cold.
“My lord—” someone began, but stopped immediately.
“The kingdom needs strength,” the king continued, his voice firm.
“Not… this.”
Silence.
The queen didn’t need to raise her voice.
“He is your son.”
The king paused, but did not turn.
“Everett is my son.”
This time, the silence was heavier.
The queen pulled Bennett closer to her, as if shielding him from something unseen.
Then, in a low but steady voice:
“And both… are my fate.”
The king did not respond.
He left.
The doors closed behind him with a dull sound.
The queen remained alone… almost.
She looked at the sleeping child in her arms.
His breathing was uneven, weak… but present.
She smiled faintly—sadly.
“It’s alright…” she whispered to him.
“You don’t need to be like them.”
A moment of silence.
Then, for a fraction of a second—
She froze.
Something changed.
Something small… fleeting.
As if the shadow beneath the cradle moved… against the direction of the light.
She lifted her head quickly.
Looked around.
Nothing.
Everything returned to normal.
But her heart… did not.
She looked at Bennett again.
This time… she wasn’t sure what she was seeing.
تمام—نكمل بنفس الأسلوب 👇
Page 3Morning came to the palace with a deceptive calm.
The heavy curtains blocked the sunlight, but not the news…
Servants whispered, guards exchanged looks—the previous night had not been ordinary.
Inside the king’s private hall, silence was stretched thin.
The queen stood at the entrance for a moment, as if weighing her words before speaking.
Then she stepped forward.
“Did you have to do that… in front of everyone?” she said quietly, but something in her voice was broken.
“My husband.”
The king did not turn immediately. He stood by the window, watching his lands stretch into the distance.
“Scarlet…” he said slowly, without facing her,
“I don’t need emotions right now.”
He finally turned, his gaze sharp.
“I need an heir.”
A brief silence.
Then he continued, with cutting coldness:
“Not a useless body to feed.”
The queen’s hands tightened without her noticing.
“But he’s still a child… and—”
“A child?” he interrupted, his voice louder this time, harsher.
“A child from the common folk could carry more Ruen than that… thing.”
His words fell into the room like a stone.
The queen did not respond immediately.
She looked at him… for a long time.
Then, slowly, her resistance faded.
It was not weakness… but realization.
This man… would never change.
She lowered her gaze for a moment, and Bennett’s image returned to her mind—
His weak breathing… his small body in her arms.
My little one… this world is not fair…And what’s coming… will not be easy for you.
She raised her head again—but this time, she said nothing.
The king turned away, as if the conversation was over.
He raised his hand in a single gesture.
Within seconds, the door opened, and a man entered with steady steps, bowing immediately.
“Your Majesty, how may I serve you?”
“Carax,” the king said without preamble.
“I want an announcement.”
The man lifted his head slightly, waiting.
“There will be a grand celebration…”
The king paused.
He looked at the queen.
A brief glance… not entirely empty.
There was something in it—perhaps pity… or merely a reflection of a weakness he refused to acknowledge.
Then he continued:
“…to celebrate the heirs of the king.”
The word heirs came out heavy.
Carax hesitated for a fraction of a second—small… but noticeable.
“As you command, Your Majesty.”
He bowed, then left.
Silence returned to the room.
The queen did not move.
But this time… she understood exactly what that announcement meant.
Not a celebration…
But the beginning of a divide.
Page 4
The throne hall filled with noise.
Hanging candles lit the high ceiling, their light reflecting off raised goblets, while laughter mixed with the clatter of dishes and the buzz of conversation.
The nobles gathered near the platform, their laughter loud and their confidence louder.
Merchants lingered at the edges, smiling more than necessary, bargaining and whispering, seeking deals even on a day of celebration.
As for the common people… they ate and drank, lost in a rare moment of peace.
Thornvale seemed to forget, if only for a day, everything else.
On the throne, the king sat, his expression steady, watching.
An elderly man approached him, his steps slow but his presence still commanding. He bowed slightly, then smiled.
“Congratulations, Your Majesty.”
He gestured toward the two cradles nearby.
“This child…” he said, his eyes shining with admiration,
“…will be strong, great, and wise.”
Then he pointed—
At Bennett.
The king’s smile froze for a fraction of a second.
Something subtle passed through his eyes… annoyance, perhaps even mockery.
But he said nothing.
Age betrays the eyes…
he thought silently.
And yet—this man is no ordinary figure.
A heavy name… wealth… influence not to be underestimated.
He forced himself to smile.
“We hope so.”
The old man laughed, and the king followed with a light chuckle… one that carried no warmth.
The noise returned to fill the hall.
Moments of organized chaos—
Until—
The king struck his goblet against the arm of the throne.
A sharp sound.
Once was enough.
Silence fell over the hall like a heavy curtain.
All eyes turned to him.
He stood slowly.
His gaze moved across the crowd—nobles, merchants, his people.
Then he spoke, his voice loud and clear:
“My nobles… my dear people…”
He paused, as if choosing his words carefully.
“I cannot describe my happiness today…”
A faint smile appeared—but it did not reach his eyes.
“…it is the second happiest day of my life.”
Soft whispers… scattered smiles.
“…after the day I was crowned king.”
A faint trace of sarcasm slipped through—quick, almost unnoticed.
Then he continued:
“But I did not stand here to speak of the past.”
He raised his goblet.
“Rather, to announce that this celebration… will not last for one day alone.”
Eyes widened.
“It will last an entire week!”
The hall erupted in applause and cheers.
“Let us raise a toast…”
He lifted his goblet higher.
“To the new princes… to my heirs—may I live long.”
His words echoed through the hall.
“And may our kingdom always flourish… in peace and prosperity.”
“To the king!”
“To the princes!”
Goblets rose, and the noise returned stronger than before.
But—
Far from the eyes, beyond the decorations and celebration…
In the small cradle, Bennett lay still.
Too still.
And for a fleeting moment—
The air around him trembled… as if something unseen had awakened for an instant.
Then it vanished.
As if nothing had ever been.
