King Arwan Thirvel paced the cold stone floor of the tower chamber, his brow furrowed with frustration and desperation. The room was dark, save for the pale moonlight that filtered through the small, barred window, casting long shadows across the aged stone walls. In the center of the room, the witch sat chained, her wrists and ankles bound by enchanted silver that glowed faintly in the darkness. She was no ordinary witch—her ability to see into the near future had made her a prisoner, forced to serve the king’s ambitions.

Arwan stopped before her, his eyes burning with anger. His kingdom had managed to fend off Emperor Silas Conley’s relentless forces before, but he knew that the Emperor would not stop until Kolune was crushed beneath his heel. The situation was growing dire, and Arwan needed a way to outmaneuver his ruthless enemy.

“Witch, read the future… tell me how I can win against that bastard,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. The witch’s eyes glowed faintly as she began to focus on the threads of fate, her expression distant as she searched for the answers he demanded. Arwan watched her intently, his hands clenched into fists, knowing that the fate of his kingdom rested on whatever vision she could provide. ———— Meanwhile, in the heart of the Empire of Zoldrah, Emperor Silas Conley stood in his grand war room, surrounded by maps and battle plans. The air was thick with the scent of wax and parchment, the flickering candlelight casting ominous shadows on the walls. Silas, with his dark brown hair slicked back and his sharp, chiseled features illuminated by the firelight, studied the strategy laid out before him. His piercing blue eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the intricate details of his final plan.

His generals stood nearby, awaiting his command. The Kolune Kingdom had been a thorn in Silas’s side for too long, its defiance an insult to his power. But now, after months of preparation, the time had come to deliver the final blow. “In a few days, King Arwan Thirvel’s kingdom will fall”