Chapter Ninety-Nine

Chapter Ninety-Nine
Another advisor took a slow, deliberate step forward, his gaze serious as he delivered the final piece of their crafted lie.

"It was the kingdom of Ravaryn."

The room grew deathly still. The King’s breath hitched, his expression darkening as the weight of the accusation settled into his bones. Ravaryn—the neighboring kingdom, a long-time ally turned uneasy rival in the shadows of politics. "You claim Ravaryn stole my child?" The question was sharp, dangerous.

The advisor nodded. "There is proof. Whispers of secret dealings, movements hidden in the records of past rulers. We believe they took him to weaken your reign—to ensure your line never continued."

The King stood suddenly, his presence looming as rage curled around him. "And what must be done?" he asked, his voice cold as steel. The Council members hid their satisfaction well. The trap had been set, and now the descent had begun.

"War." The word was delivered smoothly, decisively.

"Ravaryn must answer for its crimes. Their betrayal runs deep, and they have spent years concealing their treachery. If you do not act, they will continue their deceit—and your son may never return." The King’s breath was harsh, his thoughts twisting into the abyss of grief and fury.

War.

For his lost child.

The Council watched as the spiral took hold, ensuring the path to destruction unfolded exactly as planned. The weight of the Council’s words pressed heavily against the King’s chest, winding through his thoughts like poison. The throne room felt suffocating, the air thick with tension.

He stood abruptly, his emerald eyes darkening as he swept his gaze across the gathered Council members.

"Leave me," he ordered, his voice like steel. "I must think."

The advisors exchanged subtle glances, but none dared challenge him. With practiced bows and murmured assurances of their continued support, they filed out of the chamber, leaving the King alone with his storming thoughts.

But solitude was not what he needed.

He strode toward his private office, motioning for the guards to summon his son and his most trusted circle. If war was on the horizon, he would not face it with shadows whispering in his ear—he would face it with those he trusted.

Moments later, Allaric entered, his golden eyes sharp with urgency, followed by the King’s most loyal confidants. They had heard the whispers—felt the unrest looming over the kingdom.

The King met Allaric’s gaze, measuring the quiet intensity within his son.

"You’ve heard the rumors," the King said simply, though the weight in his voice was impossible to ignore.

Allaric nodded swiftly. "The alliance has supposedly fallen. But I don’t trust whispers—I trust the truth." He stepped forward, his tone laced with conviction. "Let me go. Let me see for myself. If they truly fell, I’ll confirm it. And if they didn’t…" He let the implication hang in the air. The King studied his son for a long moment, the tension between them shifting into something far heavier. "Go," he finally said. "Find the truth."

Allaric nodded once, his resolve clear. And as he turned to leave, the King exhaled slowly, staring at the maps spread before him. War loomed on the horizon, orchestrated by deceit and desperation.

But truth, if it could still be found, might yet change everything.

The private office was dimly lit, the air thick with tension as the King sat surrounded by his most trusted circle. Maps lay scattered across the wooden table, political records unearthed, each piece fueling the storm raging in his mind.

"If there is even a scrap of truth to this," the King murmured, his emerald eyes dark with fury, "there is nothing I wouldn’t do to seek vengeance." His advisors sat in silence, watching as their ruler’s resolve hardened.

Allaric’s absence weighed on them—his mission to confirm the alliance’s fate was crucial, yet their focus remained on the Council’s supposed revelation.

"Ravaryn," one advisor finally spoke, voice low but deliberate. "If they truly stole your child, the betrayal runs deeper than we ever imagined."

Another leaned forward. "And if they did… their kingdom cannot go unpunished. This is not merely deception; it is a wound inflicted upon your bloodline."

The King exhaled sharply, clenching his jaw. "I will not move blindly. Not yet. But if their guilt is proven, I will bring war upon them, and I will not hold back."

The stronghold was eerily quiet as Allaric moved through the ruins, his golden eyes scanning the broken structures, the shattered remnants of battle. His heart clenched.

There were no bodies—but there had clearly been a fight. The ground bore the scars of conflict, magic still lingering faintly in the air. It was real. But something was wrong.

He crouched near a burned-out section of the fortress walls, fingers brushing against the dirt. Blood. Not fresh, but not entirely old. Signs of struggle. But where were the dead?

Above him, a shadow shifted.

A watchbird circled, scanning the ruins before locking onto his presence. In an instant, it took flight, carrying its message swiftly through the currents of magic.

Miles away, in the alliance’s hidden refuge, Ollie’s eyes flickered as he received the warning. "Alaric is at the stronghold. He’s seen the aftermath." Ollie inhaled sharply. The illusion had worked—but now, the King’s son had arrived, and truth had to be carefully handled.

Ollie exhaled sharply as the message settled between them, his auburn eyes flickering with quiet intensity. "The King’s son is at the stronghold," he told Willa, his voice steady. "And if we want his continued faith, someone needs to go to Allaric and make sure he understands what really happened."

Willa nodded slowly, absorbing the gravity of the situation. Silence stretched for only a moment before Caprina stepped forward, her sapphire eyes gleaming with determination. "I’ll go."

Tiffani followed suit, her golden gaze unwavering. "And I’ll go with her." Ollie studied them both, considering the risk—but also recognizing their strength.

"You’ll have to be careful," he warned. "If Alaric reports back anything that contradicts the illusion, Peyton might catch wind of it. We need him to understand the truth, but we also need him to tread carefully." Caprina smirked faintly. "We can handle it."

Tiffani nodded. "We’ll make sure he knows exactly what’s at stake." Willa breathed in deeply, then exhaled. "Then go. Time isn’t on our side."

Without hesitation, Caprina and Tiffani gathered their gear, slipping into the forest’s shadows as they began their journey toward the stronghold ruins. Truth was fragile. But if handled correctly, it could change the tide of everything.