1. The Final Prophecy
“Please…”
A woman sobbed.
A sword was lodged in her chest. Cold blood ran down the blade, forming a dark crimson pool on the floor.
Step. Step…
Someone approached the fallen woman.
She already knew who it was. As she looked up, the light was blindingâlike staring directly at the sun.
His eyes were dazzling golden, far too radiant for any human to gaze upon directly.
The woman whimpered as if her eyes were burning.
“Please… spare me. Donât let me die like this.”
Her frail voice was heart-wrenching, soaked in such raw emotion it felt like it could melt oneâs eardrums.
Her delicate wrist trembled like a flower stem as she clutched the hem of the manâs garment.
“Donât turn away from me. I am your destiny. You just donât realize it yet.”
Her desperate plea didnât reach him.
The man looked down at the bleeding woman with cold, emotionless eyes.
“No. This canât be fate. Youâre not my destiny.”
His words were cruel.
And at last, the woman understood.
He had never loved herânot even once.
Even if she were to die right in front of him, his heart wouldnât change.
“If thatâs all you have to say.”
With those final words, the man turned and walked away.
His retreating figure was merciless. His indifference until the very end was just as brutal.
He had been heartless from the very beginning.
The woman staggered to her feet, trembling violently as she summoned her last strength.
“This canât be…”
Doubt drained the color from her face. Her expression turned lifeless as she muttered in despair.
“Youâre supposed to love me… Thatâs our destiny.”
With that, she closed her eyes and collapsed.
Her forsaken confession remained, staining her pale face with the stench of blood.
* * *
“Ah…!”
The dream ended there.
Rasilia opened her eyes with a silent gasp.
“Lady Rasilia? Are you alright?”
Floata asked from beside her.
Rasilia was currently traveling in a carriage, accompanied only by her dreamkeeper. She had closed her eyes for a moment and fallen asleepâand dreamed.
“Yes… Iâm fine.”
Rasilia blinked away the cold sweat from her lashes.
The dream had been so vivid that she couldn’t quite return to reality. Half her consciousness still felt trapped in it.
What she saw now wasnât her concerned dreamkeeper Floata, but those chilling, indifferent golden eyes.
Those eyes felt like the blade still embedded in her chest. Rasilia clenched her teeth.
“Did you have a dream?”
Rasilia was the prophet of the Kingdom of Delarta.
The gods revealed the future to her through her dreams. Once verified by dreamkeepers, her dreams were sealed at the altar and became divine prophecies.
“I did dream… but I donât think it was a prophecy.”
Divine messages were always clear. They showed events to come, allowing for action.
But this dreamâstrangers speaking irrelevant words, unconnected to her or the kingdomâwasnât prophecy.
“Do prophets dream ordinary dreams too?”
“Apparently so. But how far have we come? Are we close?”
Rasilia forced her anxiety down and looked out the window.
Before the strange dream of the golden-eyed man, she had received a terrifying prophecy that could shake the entire kingdom.
It showed Prince Ricardoâthe 12th royal heirâbeheading the king.
As soon as she woke, Rasilia sealed the dream and sent a message to the king.
Floata was her only witness. The prophecy was too dangerous, so she had told no one else. Even the Temple of the Prophet was full of Ricardoâs men. She couldnât trust anyone.
Despite warning of an urgent prophecy, there was no response from the royal court. In the end, Rasilia decided to go to the king herself.
It was rare for a prophet to leave the temple. She kept her journey secretâeven from the priests. Only Floata and the templeâs coachman knew her whereabouts.
“Have you ever wanted to see your own reflection?”
Floata suddenly asked an odd question.
“What…?”
Rasilia turned to her, puzzled.
“Why do you ask?”
Floata didnât avoid her gaze.
She wasnât sitting neatly like usual. She sat on her toes, twirling her hair around her finger. It felt… unfamiliar.
“Iâve always wondered. How can someone not be curious about their appearance? Youâre still a womanâeven if you’re a prophet.”
“Looking in the mirror has nothing to do with prophecy. And besides, you always help with those things.”
“I did. But I hated it. If beauty is so worthless to you, why couldnât I have it instead?”
“Why are you saying this, Floata?”
Floata smiled strangely. Coldly. Ominously.
“Just so you know. That way, maybe it wonât feel as unfair when you die.”
“When I die?”
What was she talking about?
Rasilia had grown up in the temple, without family or friends. Floata had been everythingâfriend, helper, companion.
So her words now were incomprehensible. Her unfamiliar expression made her look like a stranger.
“Why are you doing this, Floata? Are you angry with me? What did I do wrong?”
Floata chuckled darkly.
“You did plenty wrong. Youâre the great prophet, and Iâm just a lowly dreamkeeper. A servant, really. And youâve never once tried to use your prophetic powers fully, have you?”
The smile vanished from Floataâs face.
“But I wanted all of it. Everything you had.”
“Floata…”
Rasilia didnât know what to say. Floataâs truth was painful.
Just as Rasilia bit her lipâ
Neigh! Bang!
The carriage jolted to a halt, nearly throwing her forward.
“Ah, weâve arrived.”
Floataâs expression brightened.
And the door burst open.
“What…!”
Rasiliaâs face turned pale.
The man standing there was none other than Prince Ricardo.
“Youâre right on time, Your Highness,” Floata said sweetly.
Rasilia was hit by a horrible realization.
“Floata… did you…?”
Floata had betrayed her. She had informed Ricardo of the secret journeyâand likely the prophecy too.
“I told you, didnât I? Itâs better to know before you die than die ignorant.”
Prince Ricardo grabbed Rasiliaâs chin.
“Well, well. So this is the beautiful prophet of Delarta.”
His grip was crushing. Her jaw felt like it would shatter.
“Take your hands off me. I am the eyes and mouth of the gods.”
Rasilia spoke through clenched teeth.
“Ah, yes. But your god doesnât seem to like me very much,” Ricardo said with a twisted grin.
In that moment, Ricardo and Floata looked like twins.
“So Iâm to behead my brother, am I? And you were rushing to warn him. What do you think he’ll doâkill me first?”
“That prophecy means the gods are watching over Delartaâugh!”
Ricardo tightened his grip, choking her words.
“Listen well, flower-like prophet. You choose now: live or die. If you want to live, go back to the temple and keep your mouth shut. Forever. Iâll become king, and maybe Iâll take you as a concubine. You’re pretty enough.”
In the blur of her fading vision, Rasilia saw Floataâs twisted expression.
“Itâs no use, Your Highness. Rasiliaâs too upright. Sheâll never cooperate.”
Ricardo ignored her.
“So? Whatâll it be?”
“…I…”
Rasilia thought desperately.
She had to surviveâto warn the king of Ricardoâs treason.
But how?
âIâll have to lie. Pretend to go along and find an opportunity…â
It was the only way. Floata had betrayed her, and the silent coachman was likely already dead or involved.
“…I donât want to die.”
Ricardo laughed at her struggling words.
“So you donât want to die an old virgin. Fine, thenâ”
Just thenâ
“Sheâs lying.”
Floata’s voice cut in. And thenâsharp pain in her side.
“What are youâ!”
Ricardo screamed.
Floata had stabbed her.
“Ugh!”
The pain was fire.
Perhaps because of her dream of a woman being stabbed, the lines between reality and dream blurred.
“Donât be fooled, Your Highness. I know her best. Sheâd never cooperate with you. Just kill her, as planned.”
Thud!
A second stab landed. Floata twisted the knife.
She meant to finish it.
“Flo…ta… you…”
Rasilia reached out, staggering. But Floataâs eyes were cold. She looked at Rasilia like she was already dead.
“Damn it! Now sheâs no use. Canât save her now.”
Ricardo pulled the blade from her body.
Splurt!
Blood gushed uncontrollably.
“Out.”
He pushed Floata out of the carriage.
She looked back once at the bleeding Rasilia.
“Goodbye, Lady Rasilia. Letâs never meet again.”
“Flo…ta…”
Clack.
With Ricardo gone, the carriage door slammed shut.
Bang! Bang!
Ricardo banged on the door, shouting to his soldiers:
“Take this to the cliff and dump it. Throw the coachman’s body in too. Make it look like an accident.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
No… I must get up… I have to warn the king…
Rasilia summoned all her remaining strength.
But all she could do was twitch her fingers.
Clatter! Crash!
Moments later, the carriage carrying Rasilia and the coachmanâs bodies tumbled over a sheer cliff.
* * *
“Sheâs here.”
“Yes, yes. Sheâs here.”
“So now… we begin?”
The surroundings were noisy.
Amid the rising clamor, Rasiliaâs eyelids flickered. She opened her blurry eyes.
The first thing she saw was bright light.
“…?”
Too bright. Her room had never been this illuminated.
Was she dreaming?
…No. I died, didnât I? I must be in the godsâ realm now.
Rasilia looked around again at the unfamiliar scene.
Her gaze finally settled on the window, where exotic, golden-framed carvings decorated the panesâand birds sheâd never seen before perched outside, watching her.
Caw.
Tweet tweet. Chirp.
“…? Did you just speak to me?”
Strange. The birds were chirping, but to her ears, it sounded like human voices.
“Who arrived?”
Just thenâ
“Your Majesty the Empress. Did you cough?”
“…?”
Rasilia tilted her head.
Who was this âEmpressâ?
