The Prophecy's Shadow

The royal audience room was silent, except for Lirien's boots' soft rustle against the marble floor. The room stretched high and wide, its walls adorned with ornate tapestries depicting battles and alliances from centuries past. The air carried the faint scent of aged wood and incense, and the light of the evening sun streamed through stained glass windows, casting fragmented colors across the gleaming floor.

At the far end of the room, seated on a gilded throne, was King Aldred. His presence was commanding, even in repose. His steel-gray hair was neatly combed, and his royal regalia—a deep blue cloak lined with silver thread—spoke of his station. Yet, when his piercing eyes met Lirien's, there was no pretense, only warmth.

Lirien bowed deeply; his movements were precise yet fluid. "Your Majesty." His voice was steady, though the weight of the summons lingered in his chest.

King Aldred waved a hand, his tone both gentle and firm. "Come now, Lirien. There is no need for such formality when it is just the two of us. You're not only my trusted confidant but my son."

Lirien straightened, a faint smile softening his sharp features. "As you wish, Father."

"That's better." The king's lips curved upward briefly before he gestured to the chair near the throne. "Come, sit. Let us speak plainly."

As Lirien took his seat, he noticed the faint lines of worry etched into his father's face, more profound than he'd ever seen.

"You seem troubled, Father. Is it about the northern skirmishes?"

King Aldred shook his head, leaning forward slightly. "No. The skirmishes are manageable. It's something far graver. Something... I fear it may affect not only this kingdom but all of humanity."

Lirien's posture stiffened, his calm demeanor giving way to an undercurrent of unease. "What could possibly warrant such concern?"

The king rose from his throne and began pacing, his movements deliberate yet restless. "Have you heard of the oracle at the Temple of Life?"

"I've heard whispers," Lirien admitted. "A young girl was chosen by the goddess herself, though she has yet to give her first prophecy."

King Aldred stopped his back to Lirien, gazing at the stained glass window depicting the goddess of life and her ethereal blessings. "That prophecy has come. And it has shaken the temple to its core."

Lirien's eyes narrowed. "What did she say?"

The king turned, his expression grave. "The oracle spoke of the return of Fergus Mor."

The name struck Lirien like a thunderclap. His heart raced, his mind struggling to process the words.

"Fergus Mor?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. "The fey lord who nearly destroyed the world?"

"The same," the king confirmed. "Her words were cryptic, as prophecies often are. But the essence was clear. She said: 'The Lord of Monsters shall walk among men once more, his power hidden yet unbroken. Beware the one who tames the untamable.'"

Lirien froze. The pieces began to align in his mind, each slotting into place with a horrifying clarity. Eogan's unnatural affinity with monsters, his rapid mastery of complex magic, and the fleeting moments when his presence felt... otherworldly. The realization settled over him like a heavy cloak.

"Eogan," he murmured, his voice laced with disbelief and dread.

The king tilted his head, his sharp gaze narrowing. "What did you say?"

Lirien's mind raced, but he masked his thoughts with careful precision. "Nothing, Father. Only that this prophecy requires investigation. If Fergus Mor were to return, it could spell disaster for the entire world."

The king nodded solemnly. "Indeed. I intend to send my best men to uncover the truth. You, Lirien. You are to lead this investigation."

Lirien's heart sank, but he forced himself to nod. "I will not fail you, Father. Leave this to me."

King Aldred placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "I trust you, Lirien. More than anyone. If this prophecy holds truth, humanity may depend on your actions."

"I understand," Lirien said, his voice steady despite the turmoil.

----------------------------------------------------

That evening, Lirien found himself in his quarters, the king's words echoing in his mind. The flickering light of a single candle illuminated the room, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch toward him like grasping hands.

Leaning against the window, he stared out at the moonlit city. The streets below were quiet, the world oblivious to the storm brewing in the distance. He clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening.

"Eogan," he whispered to the night. "Who are you? What are you hiding?"

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Enter," he called, his voice composed.

The door creaked open, revealing Eogan himself. His silver hair gleamed in the candlelight, and his emerald eyes held a quiet determination.

"Lirien," Eogan began, his tone casual yet curious. "I heard you were summoned by the king. Is everything alright?"

Lirien studied him, searching for any hint of deception, but Eogan's expression was sincere. For a moment, Lirien considered confronting him, demanding answers. But the memory of Eogan's genuine kindness, his unwavering loyalty to his friends, stayed his tongue.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," Lirien said smoothly. "Just kingdom business."

Eogan raised an eyebrow, unconvinced but unwilling to press further. "If you say so. Just remember, if you need anything, I'm here."

Lirien nodded, a faint smile curving his lips. "Thank you, Eogan. I'll keep that in mind."

As Eogan turned to leave, Lirien's voice stopped him.

"Eogan," he said softly, his gaze fixed on the candle's flickering flame. "Do you ever feel like... you're carrying something heavy? Something that no one else can understand?"

Eogan paused, his hand resting on the doorframe. He didn't turn around, but his voice was calm, almost wistful.

"All the time," he admitted. "But I've learned that carrying it alone only makes it heavier."

Lirien's heart tightened at the words. He wanted to say more, to delve deeper into the truths they both seemed to dance around. But instead, he let Eogan leave, the door clicking shut behind him.

The next day, Lirien stood at the gates of the palace, surrounded by a small party of knights. Their mission was clear: investigate the Temple of Life and uncover the origins of the prophecy.

Before mounting his steed, Lirien glanced back at the towering spires of the palace. His mind lingered on Eogan, the secrets he carried, and the boy he had come to know.

"I'll protect you," he murmured, his resolve firm. "No matter what."

With that, he spurred his horse forward. The journey ahead was shrouded in uncertainty and danger. But one thing was undeniable: the shadow of the past loomed ever closer, and Lirien would do whatever it took to shield his friend from the storm.