The Winter Prophecy

Night had finally fallen upon Akrida. The day had dragged on for hours, and with it, the celebration in honor of Princess Haya had grown far beyond expectations. As was customary among the nobility, wine was the true protagonist of the evening. The nobles, dukes, ladies and advisors were already intoxicated. Their laughter was loud, their dancing clumsy, and their words a jumble of incoherent ramblings. They weren't celebrating for the princess or the wedding - they were just looking for distraction, and for that there would always be wine.

While the guests drowned in the euphoria of the night, in a secluded chamber of the palace, the kings and their soon-to-be in-laws gathered to plan yet another cataclysmic war.

"We must cross the tundras to enter the kingdom."

The voice of one of the captains echoed with authority, his gaze fixed on the map spread across the large oak table.

Pérez and Esteban stood among their most trusted men and strategists. The meticulously drawn map showed the borders of the kingdoms, the mountain ranges that divided the lands, and the hidden dangers of nature that had already brought ruin. The territorial boundaries established after the last war were clear, but they weren't enough. They always wanted more.

"By the time we get there, winter will have consumed the forests, making it impossible to march, let alone breathe."

One of Pérez's captains frowned as he spoke.

"As for air, leave that to me," Esteban grinned, raising his hand and summoning a small whirlwind to swirl around his fingers. "And as for fire, well, that's your specialty, isn't it, my friend?" He patted the king on the back.

"Without a doubt." Pérez smiled, not showing a trace of his deception. "If we go through the valleys, we'll have a better chance of reaching our destination before winter fully sets in. The real challenge is that the air there is heavily contaminated."

Once again, he neglected to mention that his greed for gold had poisoned the air and wiped out entire villages.

"I can guarantee that all our soldiers will be protected," Esteban assured confidently. "After the wedding, we will be one, and Akrida will have the power of our magic at her disposal."

The soldiers of Ruah moved in unison, conjuring miniature cyclones with their fingertips. Pérez's eyes gleamed at the sight of such power, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his lips. This was what he truly wanted - power. To rule over Ruah, Beruma, and all the other kingdoms. The blue flame flickered once more in the center of his irises. He could feel it. The past was returning, and he would do whatever it took to take what he wanted.

The doors burst open, shattering the moment.

"Your Majesty."

Silas entered the chamber, his presence cutting through the tense atmosphere.

"General Silas!" Esteban spread his arms in an exaggerated greeting, his words slurred by the wine. "Where have you been? We were discussing the most glorious of matters, yet we were deprived of your excellent counsel."

"King Esteban." Silas shook the ruler's hand firmly before stepping back. "I was with the new recruits." He paused, hoping Pérez would support the lie they were both caught up in. "You know how young men are - reckless, restless."

"Ah." The king let out a dry, amused chuckle before downing another glass of wine. "I have an good-for-nothing of a son. Leonay can barely hold a sword, and to make matters worse, he was the only one born without magic. Pérez, at least you're lucky to have Haya. She'll know how to protect you." . 

His words were cruel, the alcohol loosening what little restraint he had.

"Yes, I really have nothing to complain about with her." If there had ever been kindness in Pérez, it was because of Haya. "And don't worry, she's been training in swordsmanship since she was six."

"That's good to hear."

Silas cleared her throat, steering the conversation away from dangerous territory.

"We need to talk."

The general lowered his voice.

"Wait for me in the tower."

Without another word, Silas slipped away, disappearing into the shadows of the castle.

Pérez found him in a distant room, away from prying eyes. But the moment he stepped inside, his body stiffened. He was not alone.

"Sima, what's going on?" The king entered the room out of everyone's sight and found not only his friend there. "Orpheus?" Pérez's voice dropped to a dangerous growl. He turned to Silas, his eyes narrowing. "Have you lost your mind? You brought a sorcerer into the castle while Esteban and his wife are here?"

His voice thundered through the room. After the war and the forging of new alliances, each kingdom had rewritten its own laws, breaking with the decrees of the first king. Some laws, however, had remained unchanged - most notably the persecution of thieves, murderers, and above all, sorcerers.

Witches were a problem in Zoe's kingdom, but after the war they multiplied. They were a big problem because they could distort reality. They did what they wanted, and to get what they wanted, they could convince kings.

Perez didn't treat them as a problem. Orpheus had been at his side in many battles, helping to defeat troops and making him victorious without ever raising a sword. But even so, the king's wrath was unpredictable.

"Calm yourself. I'm here for a reason." Silas' voice was calm but urgent. "Pérez, we've tried everything to open this cursed book. Swords, axes, every mineral in Akrida, enchantments - nothing works. It won't even budge."

Pérez inhaled sharply. For the first time in years, real fear crept into his expression.

"It's not supposed to open for you," he said slowly. "Only Haya can break the seals."

"And we both know that's not going to happen," Silas countered. "We ignored the laws, we ignored the prophecy, but we cannot ignore reality. We needed Orpheus to fool the people the first time - have you forgotten?"

The illusion had worked once. The people had believed the first time Pérez touched the book.In front of the other kings and dukes, the book opened when Perez touched it.

"No," Pérez exhaled, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists. He punched the walls, trying to contain his anger."Of course not."He turned to Orpheus, the fire in his eyes rekindled. "So tell me – what is the plan?"

The witch's appearance was macabre. Gray eyes, a crooked neck, a beard stained with potions and onion sauce, and a terrifying smile. "My abilities aren't what they used to be, Your Majesty," he rasped. "I can no longer hypnotize a hundred men at once."

"Then why do I need you, Orpheus?"

Pérez's voice thundered as his fingers tightened around the wizard's throat.

Orpheus gasped, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, but his grin remained intact. "Because I found fragments of an ancient prophecy... one that might interest you."

Pérez's grip loosened slightly. He studied the wizard's face, looking for any sign of deception. "What do you know?"

Orpheus coughed and rubbed his throat before answering. "The prophecy speaks of a flower... but as you may have noticed, no flowers bloom in winter."

Pérez still wanted to kill him. The way Orpheus smiled, as if he knew every shadow that lurked in his kingdom, was enough to rekindle his anger.

"Yes, we're well aware of that, Orpheus," he murmured through clenched teeth.

"What? What are you talking about, Orpheus?"

Pérez's voice was sharp, tinged with disbelief. This didn't sound like the wizard he'd known for decades.

Orpheus took a slow step forward, his expression unreadable. "You forgot a girl, Pérez. One with more power than you."

Pérez's face contorted with rage. "What nonsense is this, you madman?"

In a heartbeat, his hands were around Orpheus' throat again, lifting the frail wizard off the ground with frightening ease.

"Pérez!"

Silas' voice rang through the chamber, urgent and commanding. He lunged forward, but the king's grip was unyielding, his fingers tightening like iron. The fire in his blue eyes flared dangerously, a wild, uncontrollable blaze.

"Pérez, we have bigger problems! Listen to me!"

Orpheus, gasping for air, raised a trembling hand and pressed his fingers to the king's forehead.

Pérez's body jerked as if struck by lightning. His pupils dilated, his breath hitched - suddenly he was no longer in the chamber.

He was somewhere else. Somewhere he knew all too well.

The past.

"No! Orpheus, get me out of here! Get me out!"

The screams of the dying filled his ears. Blood soaked the stone floor. The metallic smell of war hung in the air.

"How do we tell the king?"

Pérez turned to the hushed voices.

A doctor wiped his hands, his face pale. "He's at the front. It's the first time he's gone in months."

A soldier near the door hesitated. "His wife... she just passed away. We have to tell him."

Pérez staggered forward, his hands clutching desperately. "No. No, no, no. Adélia."

His wife lay motionless. Her face, so familiar, so loved, was ashen. His fingers hovered over her cheek, longing to touch her, to feel her warmth, but she wasn't real.

She wasn't real.

Snap.

Orpheus snapped his fingers and the vision shattered.

Pérez stumbled back, gasping, his heart pounding. His face was contorted with rage and fear, his hands trembling at his sides.

"Enough," Orpheus said, his voice eerily calm.

Silas watched as his king - his friend - fell to his knees, his breath ragged. The once mighty ruler of Akrida, the man who had crushed entire armies, now looked small.

Broken.

Orpheus tilted his head, his gray eyes gleaming. "Even you, Pérez, have weaknesses."

The wizard turned on his heel and walked toward the door, his robes sweeping across the floor.

Pérez didn't stop him.

Silas exhaled heavily and rubbed a hand over his face. "Great. Now Orpheus is gone and we have no plan for tomorrow."

The king said nothing. He just sat there, staring into space, lost in the ghosts of the past.

---

Meanwhile, the palace was alive with celebration, but Haya felt none of it.

She had played her part. Smiled at the right times. Nodded at the endless praise of how lucky she was to have married into a strong alliance.

But it was all a lie.

She had to get out.

Without a word, she slipped through the corridors, her steps hurried. The weight of expectation, of duty, of something she couldn't quite name, pressed against her chest.

The library. There she could breathe.

She pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside. It was dimly lit, only a few candles flickering against the huge bookshelves. The scent of old parchment enveloped her like a familiar hug.

Haya let her fingers glide along the spines of the books before pulling one at random. It didn't matter what it was - anything to escape, even for a short while.

She sank into a chair near the fireplace and exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders finally easing.

And then...

The door creaked open.

She turned sharply, her body tensing.

A figure stepped inside.

"Oh. Princess?"

Haya blinked. "Esra?"

The soldier from earlier stood in the doorway, looking equally surprised to see her.

"Esra of Tylia," she greeted, allowing herself a small, genuine smile. "Still lost?"

He chuckled softly. "A little."

Despite the warmth in his voice, Haya noticed something different. He was leaning to one side, his steps hesitant.

"You're hurt," she realized, rising from her chair.

Without thinking, she closed the distance between them, her hands instinctively reaching for his face.

Their eyes met. His gray-blue gaze locked onto hers, and for a brief moment, the world outside ceased to exist.

Esra hesitated. "You didn't seem to care before."

Haya ignored his comment, her fingers lightly tracing the bruise on his cheek. "Silas?"

Esra exhaled through her nose. "He can be... stubborn."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for, Princess." His voice was soft. "You're... different from your father."

Haya looked away. She had never liked being compared to Pérez.

"If you really want to help," Esra said, clearing her throat, "I'm looking for the messenger."

She raised an eyebrow. "Arthur? At this hour? He's probably off talking to fairies and chasing shadows."

Esra grinned. "It's important."

Haya thought for a moment. "I'll have a maid deliver your message."

"It's not for me. It's for a friend."

There was something about the way he said it - cautious, guarded.

Haya studied him,

then nodded. "Fine. But you owe me."

Esra smiled, took her hand and planted a quick, respectful kiss on her knuckles. "Anything for the princess."

Neither of them knew at that moment how soon that debt would be called.