Dawn broke over the kingdom of Zambura, but it wasn't the golden sun that warmed Zaria's soul. It was the fire that raged within her, the fire ignited by the betrayal she had witnessed just hours before. General Baku was to be executed at sunrise, but Zaria couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.
She walked through the palace halls, the weight of her golden jewelry heavy on her chest, but her mind was consumed with thoughts of the betrayal and the unanswered questions that lingered. Her father's decision was final, yet the silence in the throne room last night had spoken volumes. Her mother had not said a word.
Zaria approached her mother's chamber, the doors slightly ajar. She could hear soft murmurs inside. Without hesitation, she pushed the door open and entered.
Queen Nyasha stood at the far end of the room, her back to Zaria, looking out over the kingdom. Her voice was low but firm. "You are restless, my daughter."
Zaria's heart pounded. "I can't shake the feeling that we are being led down the wrong path. Baku… he was loyal to the throne. He trained us. Why would he betray us?"
The queen turned to face her, her expression unreadable. "There are many things you do not understand, Zaria. The world of men, the politics of kingdoms… they are not what you think. There are sacrifices that must be made to ensure the survival of the crown."
Zaria's frustration boiled over. "Sacrifices? What kind of sacrifice is this? A man who has given his life to Zambura is being executed without question. Without reason. And we—" She stopped, her voice breaking. "And I am supposed to just accept this?"
Her mother's eyes softened, but only for a moment. "No, Zaria. You are not meant to accept anything. You are meant to question. You are meant to challenge."
Zaria blinked in confusion. "Challenge whom?"
"The throne, the kingdom, your own father's rule. The truth is often hidden beneath layers of lies." Nyasha's voice was quiet but filled with weight. "You are the heir, Zaria. But a queen's rule begins not with the crown, but with her decisions. The people will follow you if you can give them something worth following. But if you are weak, they will turn against you."
Her words echoed in Zaria's mind, and suddenly, the weight of her destiny settled on her shoulders. She had spent her life preparing for battle, for war—but she had never prepared for the politics of rule.
Before she could respond, there was a knock at the door.
The guard's voice echoed through the chamber. "Your Highness, the execution is set to begin."
Zaria's heart skipped a beat. "I have to stop it," she said, her voice firm.
Queen Nyasha nodded slowly, as though she had expected this moment. "You are no longer a child, Zaria. This is your kingdom now, and it's time you started acting like the queen you are meant to be."
Zaria turned and ran from the room, her golden jewelry clinking with each hurried step. She could feel the eyes of the kingdom upon her—her father's eyes, her mother's, but most importantly, the eyes of the people who would either bow before her or rise up against her.
At the execution grounds, Baku stood before the firing squad, his hands bound. His gaze was steady, unwavering, as the executioner raised his spear. But Zaria couldn't allow it.
"Stop!" she cried, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
The guards froze. The crowd murmured, and King Obade turned to face his daughter, his expression a mixture of anger and disbelief.
"What is the meaning of this, Zaria?" he demanded.
Zaria stepped forward, her gaze fixed on her father. "This man does not deserve to die. He has served this kingdom with honor, and there are enemies within our own walls that we have yet to face. Killing him now will be our undoing."
King Obade's eyes burned with fury. "You defy your king? Your father?"
Zaria's heart thundered, but she stood tall. "I defy a kingdom that does not see the truth. I defy a throne that blinds itself to the dangers lurking at its gates. I will not let Zambura fall into darkness, Father. I will not stand by while the blood of the innocent is spilled."
For a moment, silence reigned. The entire kingdom seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the king's command.
Then, without a word, King Obade turned and stormed away, his anger palpable. The guards lowered their spears.
Baku was freed.
But Zaria knew this was only the beginning. The kingdom was on the brink of war—both from within and from the enemies who sought to destroy them.
She had made her first choice. Now, there was no turning back.