The great courtroom—normally vast enough to hold thousands—felt suddenly small. Shadows clung to the high stone pillars, and candlelight flickered across the faces of uneasy men. The King and his ministers had gathered to discuss the most dangerous matter of the realm: the Prophecy.
"Milord, everyone is talking about this," said one councilman, his voice trembling.
"Stop it, Robert!" another snapped. "You truly believe there's someone in the Flores Kingdom with powers greater than the King himself?"
King Sebastian raised a hand, silencing them. His tone was calm, but it cut through the hall like ice.
"Enough. Who is this person you speak of? If it is a man—kill him."
Albert, the councilman who had warned Robert to hold his tongue, hesitated before speaking.
"Milord… it's a woman. She seems harmless—just a princess. Her mother was a werewolf, and her father, a vampire."
Sebastian's gaze sharpened. "A hybrid."
Albert inclined his head. "Yes, Milord."
"Bring the woman here," the King ordered.
Albert frowned. "Milord, she's only fourteen. I don't believe she has the powers Robert claims."
Robert interjected quickly, eager to defend himself. "I saw her once, Milord. She wore a hood—eyes the color of the sea. I followed her, but she turned on me with a knife."
"You frightened the poor girl," Albert retorted. "What was she supposed to do—bring you flowers?"
A ripple of quiet laughter dared to move through the council, but it died instantly when the King's expression darkened.
Then Robert said, voice shaking slightly, "No, that's not it. Her eyes changed—from blue to gold."
The courtroom fell silent. Even the torches seemed to hesitate in their burning.
A golden-eyed child.
Even if she was a hybrid, she was only fourteen. Werewolves didn't manifest their powers so young—and vampires with golden eyes were said to descend from the oldest pure-blooded clans, long thought extinct.
Sebastian leaned forward, his voice dangerously low. "Are you certain of what you saw, Robert? You're not inventing tales to excuse being bested by a child?"
Robert bowed, meeting the King's gaze. "No, Milord. I swear on my life—I am telling the truth."
Albert stepped forward. "Please, Milord. Let her live. She's only a child—harmless."
But the King's face hardened into cold marble. "Tell her family the King will visit tomorrow." His eyes flicked toward Robert. "And, Robert—if your information proves false, I will snap your neck before the council to remind them what it means to waste my time."
Robert smirked faintly, bowing low. "You won't have any trouble, Milord."
He could already taste vengeance. Even if she was just a child—she had dared to draw a blade against him.
The King rose, his robe whispering against the marble floor. The councilmen bowed as he left, the echo of his footsteps lingering like a curse.
And in the silence that followed, the Prophecy hung heavy in the air—its words unspoken, its shadow already spreading through the kingdom.