The King Summons

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of Morvane's room, painting the walls in a soft golden hue. A brand-new day. Morvane stretched lazily on his bed, the aches of yesterday's events still faintly lingering in his body. As he sat up, a muffled voice reached his ears. Someone was talking downstairs.

He furrowed his brow, curiosity awakening him fully. They had a visitor.

Slipping into his boots, Morvane made his way to the main hall. The familiar scent of his grandmother's herbal tea mingled with something unexpected—a commanding, regal presence. As he turned the corner, his eyes widened. King Medas, in his usual elegant yet practical attire, sat at their modest table, sipping tea with his grandmother as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Ah, Morvane!" Medas greeted warmly, his deep voice carrying an air of authority wrapped in kindness. "Good morning."

"Your Majesty," Morvane replied, bowing slightly, still caught off guard. "What brings you here so early?"

Medas chuckled, setting his teacup down. "Straight to the point, I see. But first, tell me, how are you? And your friends, Luna and Esmael?"

Morvane hesitated. Memories of the shrine flooded back—the eerie silence, the malevolent force they faced, and Hiraya's calm amidst the chaos. "Something strange happened to us at the shrine yesterday," he began. He recounted everything—the whispers, the strange presence, and the inexplicable sense of unease.

As he spoke, Medas listened intently, his expression calm and unwavering. There was no shock, no disbelief. If anything, it seemed like he already knew.

When Morvane finished, the king leaned back, folding his arms. "It's as I expected," Medas said thoughtfully.

"You... knew?" Morvane asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"I had my suspicions," Medas replied cryptically. Then, standing up, he fixed Morvane with a serious gaze. "That's why I came here. Morvane, I need you to come with me. There are things we must discuss, and a task that only you can undertake."

Morvane blinked, taken aback. "Wait—what? Why me? And if it's that important, shouldn't Luna and Esmael come too? They were there with me."

Medas shook his head. "This journey is one you must take alone, at least for now. Luna and Esmael have their roles, but yours is different."

Morvane opened his mouth to argue, but something in Medas' tone stopped him. The weight of responsibility and urgency pressed against his chest. His grandmother, silent until now, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Go, child. You'll understand soon enough."

Taking a deep breath, Morvane nodded. "Alright. I'll go."

Medas smiled faintly, placing a hand on Morvane's shoulder. "Good. Prepare yourself. We leave within the hour."

As the king turned to leave, Morvane couldn't shake the feeling that his life was about to change in ways he couldn't yet comprehend.

The journey to the royal library was quiet, save for the sound of horses' hooves against the cobblestone path. Morvane's mind raced with questions, each one heavier than the last. When they finally arrived, the towering structure of the royal library loomed before him, its ancient stone walls seemingly holding centuries of secrets.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of parchment and aged leather. Shelves stretched endlessly in every direction, filled with books that seemed untouched by time.

Medas led him through the labyrinth of knowledge, speaking little. Finally, they reached a secluded section where the light of the morning sun barely reached. Dust motes danced in the faint beams of light.

As Medas began scanning the shelves, Morvane broke the silence. "Why do I keep dreaming of Hiraya?" he blurted out. His voice echoed softly in the quiet library.

Medas paused, his fingers trailing along the spines of books. "Dreams have a way of revealing truths we're not yet ready to face," he said cryptically.

"That's not an answer," Morvane pressed. "Why does she feel so… familiar? Who is she, really?"

The king exhaled sharply but didn't turn to face him. "I shouldn't tell you any story about her," Medas finally said, his tone heavy with regret. "Not yet."

Morvane clenched his fists in frustration but said nothing more as Medas climbed up a nearby ladder to reach a shelf high above. After a moment, he pulled out a dusty old book, its leather cover cracked and faded. Carefully, he climbed back down and placed the book on a nearby table, flipping through its brittle pages with practiced care.

As he searched for a specific passage, Medas suddenly asked, "Morvane, have you ever taken out the necklace you found?"

Morvane froze. The necklace. The one he discovered in the shrine. He hadn't mentioned it when recounting the story earlier. "How… how do you know about that?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Medas looked up from the book, his eyes meeting Morvane's. "Because," he said gravely, "that necklace belonged to Hiraya. It is hers."

Morvane staggered back a step, his thoughts spiraling. "What? How? What does that even mean?"

Medas closed the book gently and placed his hands on the table, leaning forward.

"There is much you don't know, Morvane. About Hiraya. About yourself. And about the world you're stepping into."

The words hung heavy in the air, leaving Morvane with more questions than answers.

Medas finally stopped flipping through the brittle pages of the old book, his finger resting on a particular passage. His sharp eyes scanned the text, and after a brief pause, he looked up at Morvane with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably.

"Let me ask you something," Medas began, his voice low but firm. "Have you ever seen… ghost-like figures? People? Creatures?"

Morvane frowned and shook his head. "No, I don't think so—" He paused, memories flooding back. "Wait. There was something… odd. Esmael's dog. After it died and was buried, I saw it in the middle of the night, standing in front of me. It… vanished when I rubbed my eyes so I thought it was just in my mind."

Medas nodded silently, prompting him to continue.

"And then," Morvane added hesitantly, "there was that shadowy wolf at the city. But everyone saw that?"

Medas studied him for a long moment before muttering to himself, "You're that advanced in just days? Hmmm, the necklace seems to not..."

Morvane tilted his head. "Advanced? What do you mean? What does this have to do with the necklace?"

Ignoring the question, Medas straightened and closed the book with a soft thud.

"Anyway, I'm here to help you," he said, his tone more reassuring.

Before Morvane could respond, Medas stepped closer and pressed his thumb firmly against Morvane's forehead. The touch was warm but strange, as if tingling energy pulsed from it. "What are you doing?" Morvane asked, his voice tinged with unease.

Medas didn't answer. Instead, he began to chant in a language Morvane couldn't understand, his voice deep and resonant.

Suddenly, a cold wave washed over Morvane, and his vision darkened. His body stiffened, and he felt a surge of raw energy coursing through him. "Stop! What's happening—" His words caught in his throat as his eyes turned pitch black, the darkness swallowing even the whites of his eyes.

Medas faltered, his normally calm demeanor cracking for the first time. "This… isn't supposed to happen," he muttered, flipping the book open and chanting louder.

Energy began to radiate from Morvane, raw and untamed. His body lifted off the ground, hovering in mid-air. The room trembled, books falling from shelves as a powerful force filled the air.

Medas didn't hesitate. He chanted faster, his own body lifting off the ground to keep his thumb pressed firmly against Morvane's forehead. The connection was crucial; he couldn't let go.

The energy grew more intense, crackling like a storm. "Hakunmsll mangubski" Medas shouted, his voice straining against the roar of power.

But the force overwhelmed them both. A blinding blast of energy erupted from Morvane's body, throwing Medas backward with immense force. He crashed into a nearby bookshelf, books and dust cascading down around him.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of residual energy. Morvane's body lowered gently to the ground, his eyes still dark as night. Medas staggered to his feet, shaken but determined. "What… are you, Morvane?" he whispered, the weight of his words heavy with dread and curiosity.

Morvane woke to the softness of a bed he didn't recognize. The sheets were smooth, the mattress plush beneath him. Sunlight poured through the ornate windows, illuminating the elegant but unfamiliar room. He blinked, trying to make sense of it all.

"Where… am I?" he murmured, sitting up.

The last thing he remembered was being with Medas in the library. Everything after that was a blur.

The door opened with a faint creak, and Medas entered, his arms and shoulders wrapped in bandages. His movements were slower than usual, though he tried to hide it.

"You're awake," Medas said, his voice calm but guarded.

Morvane swung his legs over the side of the bed. "What happened? Why am I here? The last thing I remember is… the library."

"You fainted," Medas said simply.

"Fainted?" Morvane's eyes narrowed as he looked closer at the bandages on Medas' arms. "What happened to you? Did something—"

"It's nothing," Medas interrupted sharply. His tone left no room for further questions. He gestured to a guard standing outside the door. "Bring him something to eat."

Turning back to Morvane, Medas continued, "Rest. I have other matters to attend to." Without another word, he left the room, his posture stiff and purposeful.

Alone, Morvane sat in silence, frustration bubbling inside him. Something had happened—something Medas wasn't telling him. But before he could dwell on it further, his attention was drawn to the window.

The royal garden sprawled out below, vibrant with flowers of every color. Among the greenery, a figure moved gracefully, kneeling to pick flowers. Morvane's breath caught in his throat as he leaned closer to get a better view.

The woman's movements were familiar in a way he couldn't explain. Her long hair shimmered in the sunlight, and her delicate hands plucked flowers with care. She stood, turning slightly to adjust the bouquet in her arms.

And then she turned fully, her face coming into view.

Morvane froze, his heart skipping a beat. "Hiraya…" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

It was her. The same face he had seen countless times in his dreams. The same eyes that seemed to pierce through him with a quiet intensity.

He stood abruptly, almost stumbling in his haste to get closer to the window. His pulse thundered in his ears as he watched her, alive and serene, standing in the middle of the garden.

"Hiraya" he said again, louder this time. But she didn't look up. She continued gathering flowers, oblivious to his presence.

Morvane pressed his hand against the cool glass of the window, his mind racing. How was this possible? Hiraya—alive?