The midday sun, usually a warm embrace over Zuna, turned into a glaring, indifferent eye as the palace erupted. It began not with a roar, but with a chilling, synchronized efficiency. During a routine council assembly, the doors of the Royal Throne Room burst inward, not from without, but from within. General Borin, a man King Theron had trusted implicitly for decades, stood grim-faced at the head of a cadre of elite guards – his elite guards, wearing the Zunian crest but moving with a cold, unfamiliar purpose.
"King Theron, your reign ends now!" Borin's voice, usually a booming command, was a flat pronouncement of doom. Before the King's loyal retainers could draw steel, flashes of mundane steel and forbidden shadow-magic erupted. Theron, wise but unarmored in his council robes, barely had time to register the treachery before he was overwhelmed, his pleas for reason drowned out by the clash of blades and the cries of the loyal few who rushed to his defense.
Chaos ripped through the palace. The orderly halls transformed into a labyrinth of desperate skirmishes. Prince Kael, in the midst of a history lesson, heard the distant screams, then the shattering of glass closer by. Sir Gareth, his face a mask of grim determination, burst into the room, his sword already drawn. "Prince! No time! We must go!"
Elder Maeve, her eyes blazing with a power Kael had rarely seen, raised a hand. The very air around them shimmered, distorting, providing a momentary shield as they moved. "The path to the North Gate is compromised! We take the old servant's passage!" she commanded, her voice surprisingly strong.
They moved like phantoms through the labyrinthine passages, the sounds of battle growing nearer, then fading. Just as they reached a concealed exit leading to the rarely used southern gardens, they met another desperate group: Captain Valerius, a kind, stout man, his arm bleeding, half-carrying a tear-streaked Princess Lyra.
"Kael!" Lyra cried, her voice thin with terror, reaching out a trembling hand.
Kael's heart twisted. He wanted to hold her, protect her. But Sir Gareth gripped his shoulder firmly. "Captain Valerius, the western route to the Silverwood Pass is clear for now! Take the Princess and make haste to the Kingdom of Eldoria! Their alliance holds!"
"We go east, Prince," Elder Maeve added, pulling Kael gently but firmly. "To the Kingdom of Solara. Two paths, two hopes."
"No!" Kael protested, reaching for Lyra. He saw the anguish in her eyes, the desperate plea. He felt the pull of a thousand unspoken fears. He wanted to summon fire, thunder, anything to protect her, but his hands felt cold, useless.
Valerius nodded, pulling Lyra closer. "Go, Prince! For Zuna!"
"Lyra!" Kael's voice was a choked whisper as Maeve tugged him forward, a hidden door sliding shut behind them. Through the closing gap, his last sight was his sister's tear-streaked face, eyes wide with fear and a profound, shared sorrow, as Captain Valerius hurried her into the fading light. Their paths had diverged, brutally severed by the betrayal that had engulfed their home.