The prince's hands trembled.
There was no escape.
Every path to freedom was sealed.
Every corridor guarded.
Every ally fallen.
Except one path remained.
He let out a broken, innocent cry — soft enough to wound, desperate enough to convince.
"Mother… I'm so sorry… please forgive me… I never wanted to hurt anyone… I only wanted Father to act like a king… please forgive me…"
His voice cracked into sobs.
"I never wanted this to go so far… please… Mother…"
It worked.
The queen shattered at the sound of his crying.
"My baby…" she wept, rushing forward, wrapping him in her arms. "It's alright… we will fix this… you will be alright…"
She held him tightly.
He inhaled slowly.
The weight of destiny crushed down upon him.
"Forgive me…" he whispered.
Whether to his mother… his father… or the kingdom itself — even he did not know.
And then—
The world fell silent.
⸻
When the horn sounded again, it was not for battle.
It was for the death of peace itself.
The great hall erupted into chaos.
Fire roared upward.
Screams tore through marble and stone.
Smoke clawed at the ceiling.
Prince Tazz stumbled backward, armor stained with blood and ash.
His mother's final cry echoed endlessly in his mind — a sound that would never leave him.
⸻
(Somewhere in the Forest of Codar)
"Oh… it seems it's nearing its conclusion," Kolpa mused, watching from afar.
A grin curled across his face.
"I suppose I should prepare myself."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Though really… was killing your mother necessary, dear prince? You are quite the sick individual."
He chuckled.
"Well… who am I to interfere in family matters?"
⸻
Arrows shattered marble beside Tazz, splintering stone.
The knights surged forward, faces illuminated by flame.
Orders were shouted.
Steel clashed.
He ran.
Boots slipped across shattered tiles as fire chased his shadow.
Every corridor of the castle he once called home turned hostile.
Hidden passages were guarded.
Secret exits blocked.
"This was planned…" he muttered, breath ragged. "Someone close betrayed me."
Rage and despair warred within him.
He burst through the western archway.
Cold dawn air struck his face like a blade.
Beyond the walls, a handful of surviving men fled —
But arrows filled the sky like furious wasps.
They fell one by one.
Tazz vaulted onto a fallen horse and tore through the chaos.
Behind him, the castle roared.
Collapsing towers.
Screaming men.
And the crown he had tried to claim buried beneath ruin.
He did not look back.
But his mother's face — the moment the blade pierced her — burned into his mind.
Tears streamed down his face.
"I'm sorry… Mother…"
He did not stop riding.
⸻
By the time sunlight broke through the smoke, Prince Tazz was miles away.
His cloak torn.
His hands trembling.
Adrenaline carried him only so far.
Then it abandoned him.
Exhaustion struck all at once.
He fell from the horse, crashing into the forest floor.
Darkness claimed him.
One final thought burned in his mind:
Find the traitor.
Make them pay.
He placed the blame for his mother's death not upon himself—
But upon whoever had betrayed him.
And then he lost consciousness.
⸻
— Back at the Castle —
The throne room was silent now.
Too silent.
Steel no longer clashed.
Only dying flames crackled.
Blood dripped from shattered banners.
King Gustavious knelt at the center of it all.
His crown sat crooked.
His sword lay forgotten.
In his arms rested the queen.
His queen.
Her gown darkened with ash and crimson.
Her eyes closed as though sleep might still return her.
He brushed trembling fingers against her cheek.
Cold.
"Why…?" he whispered into the smoke. "Why did it have to be our son?"
The acting captain appointed by Erica approached carefully.
"Your Majesty… the prince has escaped—"
The king's glare froze him mid-sentence.
"Let him run."
The words were quiet.
But they carried thunder.
He composed himself slowly.
"What am I to say to Erica when she returns? I never imagined it would end like this…"
His voice cracked.
"Oh, my darling Rachel… forgive me…"
Tears fell.
"I failed you… in how I raised our son."
He lifted her gently.
Her crown slipped from her hair.
It struck the marble floor.
The sound echoed through the hall like a funeral bell.
The toll of a kingdom broken by its own blood.
Outside, dawn painted the Holy Kingdom of Righteous in mourning gold.
⸻
— Deep Within the Forest of Codar —
The first sound Prince Tazz heard was a voice.
Calm.
Too calm.
"I told you not to move so soon, dear prince."
His eyelids fluttered open.
The air was cold and heavy.
Seated in the shadows, a faint, mocking smile visible—
Kolpa.
"You're awake," Kolpa said smoothly. "I was beginning to think you had chosen death, leaving me to clean your mess."
Tazz groaned, forcing himself upright despite the pain tearing through his body.
"Where… are we?"
"Far enough from your father's reach," Kolpa replied, rising gracefully. "Though not far enough from your own mistakes."
The words struck harder than steel.
Tazz clenched his jaw.
"You think I don't know what went wrong?" he shouted.
"Oh, you know," Kolpa said, stepping closer.
His eyes glinted in the half-light like a predator's.
"You never listen."
He circled Tazz slowly.
"I told you the timing was wrong. After what happened in Warmark, the castle would be alert. I told you to wait for my return so I could assist you."
He leaned in, voice lowering to a whisper.
"But you… you wanted glory before dawn."
Tazz's hands trembled as he steadied himself against a tree trunk.
"It was supposed to be clean…" he muttered. "The greatest threats were out of commission. It should have been easy."
His breathing grew uneven.
"Swift. Minimal blood… not hers…"
His voice cracked.
"Oh, Mother…"
His eyes darkened.
"I blame the one who betrayed me. This was their fault. Not mine. Not mine."
Kolpa watched him carefully.
{He noticed. Good.}
A thin, pleased smile curved across his face.
"Indeed," Kolpa said smoothly. "And yet, here we are. The king lives. The queen is dead. And your name is cursed in every hall of that castle."
He stopped in front of him.
"Tell me, dear prince… was it worth it?"
Tazz lifted his head.
There was guilt in his eyes.
But beneath it—
Fire.
"I did what I had to do. If I wasn't betrayed, my mother would still be alive. I would already be king."
His jaw tightened.
"I have no regrets. This is a setback — nothing more. I will find whoever betrayed me… and I will make them pay for my mother's death."
The forest fell quiet.
Kolpa's grin widened slightly.
{He sees betrayal. He rejects guilt. He still burns.}
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
"Spoken like a king already. Perhaps there is hope for you yet."
Tazz frowned.
"Hope for what?"
Kolpa's smile deepened.
"For what you were always meant to become… dear prince."
A pause.
"Or should I say… future king."
For a fleeting moment, something shifted behind Kolpa's eyes.
Something vast.
Ancient.
Wrong.
Tazz felt it — like standing too close to a cliff edge in the dark.
He blinked.
It was gone.
Exhaustion, he told himself.
Nothing more.
But somewhere deep within him—
Instinct whispered otherwise.
⸻
— Town of Dasos —
Within the Darkburn Canopy
The forest loomed like a wall of breathing shadow.
Beyond the tree line of the Darkburn Canopy, the air shimmered faintly.
Not from heat.
From power.
Soul energy hung thick like invisible mist — raw, vibrant, untamed.
It pressed against the skin.
Buzzed in the bones.
Distorted sound and light.
Even seasoned warriors hesitated at its edge.
Jericho did not.
He stepped forward first.
"Stay sharp," he said calmly, though his voice carried warning. "The forest is alive. The soul energy density here is abnormal."
It wasn't just dense.
It was watching.
Erica stepped beside him, blade already drawn.
Soul energy coursed along its edge in luminous threads.
"Good," she smirked. "I still need to release the irritation that man Tiui left in me."
Her eyes gleamed.
"If the forest wishes to entertain me, I'll gladly accept."
William exhaled heavily behind them.
He knelt, pressing his fingers into the soil.
His expression shifted immediately.
"…This isn't normal."
He rubbed the dirt between his fingers.
"The structure's changed. It feels… altered."
He stood slowly.
"Whatever lives here has been shaped by this energy. It's not natural anymore."
A distant sound echoed through the canopy.
Not a roar.
Not wind.
Something between breath and whisper.
The trees creaked — not from breeze, but from tension.
As if something deep within the forest had just become aware of them.
Jericho's gaze sharpened.
"…We are not the hunters here."
Something moved between the trees.
Fast.
Silent.
And watching.
⸻
By midday, the great hall had become a tomb.
Smoke coiled through shattered windows, and the scent of ash and blood clung to the air like a curse that would not lift. Servants moved in silence, tending to the wounded and covering the fallen with trembling hands. No one dared meet the king's eyes.
He stood beside the throne — not seated, not resting.
His hand lay upon the armrest carved with the royal sigil, fingers unmoving against cold stone. His gaze was distant, fixed upon the dark stain marring the marble floor.
He had not left that spot.
The captain of the guard knelt before him.
"Your Majesty, riders have been dispatched to pursue the prince. But the forest paths are endless, and he—"
"—knows them better than you," the king finished quietly.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Beneath it coiled something iron-bound and merciless.
"He will run until his strength fails him," the king continued. "But he cannot outrun what he has done."
The words did not rise in anger.
They settled like a verdict.
The captain lowered his head further.
"What are your orders, sire?"
For a long moment, the king did not answer.
His fingers tightened slightly against the carved sigil.
When he finally spoke, his voice no longer carried grief.
Only resolve.
"Seal the gates. Double the watch on every noble house."
A pause.
"And send word across the kingdom."
His eyes hardened — not with fury, but with something far more dangerous.
"My son is no longer a prince."
Silence swallowed the hall.
"He is to be hunted."