Chapter 4: Echoes of the Past
Marcus sat upon his throne in the grand hall of Darkwood Manor, his fingers idly tracing the intricate patterns of the armrests. Outside, a storm raged, the thunderous roar of the tempest echoing the turmoil within his soul.
"Master Marcus," came the voice of his trusted advisor, a wizened mage named Arcturus. "The emissaries from the neighboring kingdom have arrived, as you requested."
Marcus glanced up, his gaze meeting Arcturus's with a mixture of annoyance and boredom. "Very well, send them in," he replied, his voice dripping with disdain.
As the emissaries entered the hall, Marcus's mind drifted back to his first day in this world—the day he had been reborn in the forest and taken under the wing of the mysterious woman who called herself Seraphina.
"Seraphina," Marcus murmured under his breath, the name a bitter reminder of the past. He had trusted her once, believed in her promises of power and greatness. But now he saw her for what she truly was—a manipulator, a puppeteer pulling the strings from the shadows.
Marcus sat upon his throne in the grand hall of Darkwood Manor, his fingers idly tracing the intricate patterns of the armrests. Outside, a storm raged, the thunderous roar of the tempest echoing the turmoil within his soul.
"Master Marcus," came the voice of his trusted advisor, a wizened mage named Arcturus. "The emissaries from the neighboring kingdom have arrived, as you requested."
"Master Marcus?" Arcturus's voice broke through his reverie, bringing him back to the present.
Marcus shook his head, banishing the memories from his mind as he turned his attention to the emissaries before him. They bowed low, their faces etched with fear and deference.
"What news do you bring?" Marcus asked, his tone cold and commanding.
The emissaries exchanged nervous glances before one of them stepped forward, his voice trembling with apprehension.
"Great Lord Darkwood," he began, his words measured and cautious. "We come to you with an offer of alliance. Our kingdom stands ready to pledge its loyalty to you in exchange for your protection against our enemies."
Marcus studied the man for a moment, weighing his words carefully. He could sense the fear in their hearts, the desperation to survive in a world consumed by darkness.
"Very well," Marcus said at last, his voice betraying no hint of emotion. "You may return to your kingdom and inform your king that Darkwood accepts his offer of alliance. But make no mistake—betray me, and you will suffer the consequences."
With a dismissive wave of his hand, Marcus signaled for the emissaries to leave. As the doors closed behind them, he leaned back in his throne, a bitter smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Seraphina," he whispered once more, the name a curse on his tongue. "You may have brought me into this world, but it is I who will shape its destiny. And woe betide any who dare to stand in my way."