In the opulent halls of the Ashrone Kingdom, the elite gathered to celebrate the birth of the kingdom's heir, a momentous occasion hosted by the 21st king.
The king, his face radiant with joy, raised his wine glass in a toast, his voice echoing through the grand chamber. "To the birth of my heir, the future of our kingdom!"
The crowd erupted in applause and cheers, their voices mingling with the sweet melodies of harps and flutes. Yet, amidst the jubilation, a bittersweet truth lay hidden.
The child being celebrated was not the king's firstborn, but his third. The first two, both daughters, had brought disappointment to the court, as tradition dictated that only a male heir could inherit the throne.
For years, the king had pleaded with the gods to grant him a son, but his prayers had gone unanswered. Until now.
The heir was born not from the crown queen, but from a humble knight, a woman of exceptional beauty and virtue. The king, desperate for an heir, had taken her as his concubine, and their union had produced the long-awaited male child.
As the festivities continued, the king's heart swelled with pride and relief. He had finally secured the future of his kingdom, but at a cost. The birth of his heir had come at the expense of his own heart, torn between duty and desire.
As darkness enveloped the room, the windows overlooking the kingdom of Ashrone shattered, plunging the hall into an abyss of despair. From the depths of the shadows, whispers echoed through the air: "World ending empire of arrow."
Suddenly, bright purple light erupted from the darkness, taking the shape of countless arrows that pierced through the air with deadly precision. The hall erupted in chaos as the arrows indiscriminately attacked everyone in their path.
Some managed to defend themselves, their weapons clashing against the ethereal arrows. But many were not so fortunate, their bodies riddled with wounds as they fought back in vain. Amidst the carnage, a lone masked figure emerged from the shadows, his body wreathed in purple flames.
With lightning speed, the masked man charged at the king, his fists ablaze with the same otherworldly energy that had summoned the arrows. The king fought back valiantly, but the masked man's power proved overwhelming.
In a final, desperate attempt, the king unleashed a powerful spell, but it was too late. The masked man's fist connected with the king's chest, sending a surge of purple energy coursing through his body.
As the king's life ebbed away, the masked man whispered his final words: "how the mighty have fallen".
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As the masked assassin basked in his bloody triumph, another figure burst through the grand hall with earth-shattering speed. In a matter of seconds, he unleashed his sword with his right hand, channeling his phoenix fire magic. Flames erupted from the blade, engulfing the masked man in an inferno.
The masked man screamed in agony as the flames consumed him, reducing him to ashes. The queen, her eyes filled with tears, glanced at the floor where the blood of her slain king stained the marble. Her two young daughters stood frozen in shock, their faces etched with horror at the sight of their father's demise.
The assassin who had come to their rescue stood tall, his sword still dripping with the masked man's blood. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the carnage and the grief-stricken faces of the royal family.
I have arrived too late
..
As the sun rose over the peaceful kingdom of Ashrone, chaos reigned in the air. The royal family's loyal subjects were summoned to their duties - some were tasked with guarding the castle walls to ensure the safety of the queen and the royal children, while others were dispatched to seek out the perpetrators behind the heinous crime of the king's murder.
In the opulent chambers of the castle, a serene scene unfolded. A young woman with flowing blonde hair sat by the window, cradling the crown prince in her arms as she nursed him. However, her face bore the unmistakable signs of exhaustion, a testament to the heavy burden she carried as the kingdom mourned its fallen ruler.
A sudden knock on the chamber door broke the silence, prompting the woman to call out for the visitor to enter. A somber figure stepped into the room, bowing deeply in respect.
"I'm sorry to intrude at such a time, your highness," the visitor began, addressing the woman formally.
The woman chuckled softly, her tired eyes lighting up with a hint of amusement. "I have told you many times to call me Jessica," she interjected with a warm smile.
The young man hesitated for a moment, then spoke earnestly. "Lady Jessica, with the king's passing, I fear for your safety within the castle walls."
Jessica's expression softened, understanding the unspoken concern behind the young man's words. As the former king's confidante and companion, her position in the court was now precarious without his protection.
Despite her weakened physical state due to a lingering illness, Jessica was far from a delicate flower. She was a seasoned warrior, renowned for her skills on the battlefield during the tumultuous Purity War. However, circumstances had forced her into a role of vulnerability within the confines of the castle walls.
"I must find a way to protect my child," Jessica declared solemnly, gently placing the baby prince back into his crib. Her gaze lingered lovingly on the infant, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips.
Minato, the young man who had served the royal family for years, nodded in silent agreement. He knew the gravity of the situation and the dangers that lurked within the castle's shadowed corridors.
Jessica approached Minato with determination in her eyes, enveloping him in a heartfelt embrace. "I have trained you well, my dear friend. One day, you will rise to greatness and become the Sorcerer King this kingdom needs," she whispered, her voice filled with conviction.
Tears welled up in Minato's eyes, a mix of sorrow and determination reflected in his gaze.
As the evening wore on, tragedy struck the kingdom once again, shattering the fragile peace that had briefly settled over Ashrone. News spread like wildfire through the streets and corridors of the castle - the crown prince and his mother, Lady Jessica, had perished in a devastating fire that ravaged their chambers.