البته — این متن طولانی و ادبی است، و برای
The cold night wind drifted through the tents of the Shadow Army, rattling the canvas and making the torches flicker. Their wavering light danced across the commanders' faces, casting long, shifting shadows upon the walls.
But among them all, Alden Daitros, the King of Shadows, stood perfectly still.
Across from him stood Kael Nax, his sharp gaze fixed on the great commander—his childhood friend. Alden's gray eyes gleamed under the torchlight, brighter than Kael remembered.
Kael licked his lips and spoke softly.
"Why didn't you attack?"
Alden gave no answer. His eyes remained locked on the signed treaty spread across the table before him.
Kael took a step closer.
"You could've ended it with one strike. Elnora's already weak—and we've got them surrounded. There's no way they can fight back. We could take it, just like Niflheim and Fyron!"
Still, silence.
Kael frowned.
"But you didn't. Instead, you sent them a marriage proposal. Terms of surrender. Why?"
Alden blinked slowly. His expression revealed nothing—no anger, not even a flicker of thought.
Kael waited a few seconds, then let out a short, bitter laugh and shook his head.
"Yeah… that's just like you," he muttered. "Every time you're hiding something, you go quiet—or change the subject."
He turned toward the exit. As he pushed aside the tent flap, his voice dropped to a whisper.
"Just hope you know what the hell you're doing."
The heavy stillness returned to the camp.
A faint smirk curved Alden's lips. His eyes lingered on the treaty—the seal glimmering dimly in the torchlight. A deep satisfaction stirred within him, growing stronger with every heartbeat.
He whispered, "The bait's in the trap."
---
Eight Hours Earlier
[Royal Hall of Elnora]
Mother's fist struck the council table with a sharp crack.
Silence filled the chamber. The murmurs that had flooded Elnora's royal hall vanished instantly.
Father's lips thinned to a pale line as his eyes fixed on the open treaty before him—the one sent by the King of Shadows himself.
No one dared look away from that black-lettered parchment. And then Mother's voice broke the silence.
"This is an insult!" she shouted. "Let them live, and you'd send my daughter into the arms of that monster? Never!"
The Chancellor stepped forward, his voice hoarse but calm. "Your Majesty, this is a grave matter. We may lose our sovereignty… even our freedom. But our people would live."
At that, the whispers rose again—waves of clashing voices spreading across the hall.
I stood silently in the corner.
I wanted to speak… but I didn't have the strength.
At last, the commander of the royal army stepped forward. "In only three days, our casualties have grown immensely. If this continues, we—"
He paused. I already knew what he was about to say. Speaking it aloud was too painful for anyone.
"If we continue… we'll vanish, like Fyron," he finished, bowing his head. His whole body trembled.
I knew he felt it too—the bitter mixture of anger, fear, and defeat.
I couldn't bear it any longer.
Elnora was my home. I wouldn't let it fall—even if it meant sacrificing myself.
I stepped forward. With each step, the hall grew quieter. No one dared interrupt me. In the end, the decision would be mine.
Mother's voice trembled with fear as she cried out, "Lyra!"
I opened my mouth to speak—but before I could, Liam cut me off.
My brother. Crown Prince of Elnora. Three years older than me.
While I grew up among swords and spells, he was raised in courts and endless council meetings.
His steps were swift, his white cloak—embroidered with a golden phoenix—flowing behind him like flame.
Without even glancing at me, he stood before our father.
"If you sign that letter, Elnora will be humiliated. The royal family disgraced. And then what? How do we face our people?"
Father, silent until then, finally spoke.
"This is a chance to save them. A chance to save our people."
Liam's voice rose, trembling with rage. "Alden Daitros hasn't even seen Lyra once. He sent that letter just to crush our pride!"
The prime minister quickly stepped between them, trying to stop the tension from erupting.
He turned to Father and said, "It's written clearly in the letter. After the marriage, Elnora will become one of the Shadow Kingdom's territories, and you will be granted the title of Grand Duke."
Liam tried to push past him, desperate to confront our father directly. But Theo didn't move.
"If you agree to this," Liam shouted, "we lose our history, our honor—and Elnora will cease to exist!"
Mother moved in front of me, as if to shield me from the storm.
"She is the Saint of Elnora," she declared. "The one chosen by the Light after a thousand years! No one knows what dark purpose the King of Shadows has for her!"
The Saint of Elnora. A title I'd carried since I was eight—since the day I restored a blind child's sight with nothing but the light in my palms.
Since then, I'd lived in the temple—healing the sick, listening to the people. They brought me flowers, gifts, tokens of gratitude.
But I never needed any of them. Their smiles were enough.
Until three days ago.
After the first battle between our army and the Shadows', the temple filled with corpses.
The people came—desperate, sobbing—begging me to save their wounded husbands.
Little children stared at the lifeless bodies of their fathers.
For the first time, the Temple of Elnora reeked of blood and death.
Liam slammed his fist against the table.
"He will show no mercy!" he shouted. "Not to us. Not to Lyra!"
Father rubbed his eyes, his voice raw. "I am responsible for thousands of lives. I swore to protect them. And if that means giving up my throne… then so be it."
Liam's voice broke with fury. "Then I'd rather die with honor than live in shame!"
"Enough, Liam!" I yelled.
He froze, staring at me in disbelief.
I didn't let him speak.
Turning to Father, I said, "I'll do it."
I took a deep breath and looked back at Liam. "I'm not weak, brother. I won't let that monster hurt me."
I couldn't let what happened in the temple happen again. The people of Elnora didn't deserve war. They didn't deserve destruction.
"This is my duty," I said. "If we keep fighting, it's Elnora whose blood will be spilled—not the Shadow Army's."
I drew the dagger from my belt.
One drop of blood. That was all it took to seal the pact.
I lifted the blade toward my thumb—then felt my mother's trembling hand clutch the hilt.
I turned to her.
Tears streamed down her face.
"Don't worry, Mother," I whispered.
I wanted to comfort her. But the more I spoke, the more she cried.
Quickly, I looked away, afraid that if I met her eyes, I'd lose my resolve.
My gaze returned to the dagger.
Without hesitation, I drew the blade deep across my thumb.
With my blood, I signed my name upon the parchment.
And then—
The letter glowed. Shadows curled around its edges. It lifted from the table… and with a burst of black smoke, vanished into the darkness.
It was done.
Everything was done.