PART 4: THE DOOMSDAY PROPHECY
The heavy doors of the great hall burst wide open. Out from the deep shadows of the corridor, flanked by soulless guards, Queen Elara stepped into the storm.
She bore none of her usual royal grace; instead, she stumbled forward in pure, unadulterated panic. The rain battered her lavish gown, but what struck true horror into the crowd was the Queen’s forehead. Right between her brows, a brand shaped like a broken crown burned with a fierce, fiery orange light, pulsing like a warning from the depths of hell.
The Queen rushed forward, her eyes locked onto Arthur not with reverence, but with absolute dread. She pointed a trembling finger at the boy holding the sword and shrieked in a raw, broken voice that crushed the kingdom's last hope: “He is not the king's son! He is the child the sword was created to destroy!”
The declaration fell like a war hammer. The crowd scrambled backward in terror. Garron gripped his weapon, paralyzed between protecting the young boy or striking him down.
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On the stone platform, Arthur slowly lowered his arms. He looked down at the sword in his hands. For the first time in a life already hardened by suffering, primal fear crept into Arthur's eyes. The brilliant, warm golden light of the blade suddenly died out. The holy runes were rapidly turning pitch black, releasing wisps of dark, malevolent smoke that began to coil around the boy.
This was not the awakening of a Savior. This was the beginning of the end.
