Theron seated to the right of his father, King Eldrion, in the Great Council Hall of Aetheria. The vast chamber was a blend of marble and gold, with tall columns and high windows that bathed the room in a soft, amber glow. The ceiling, adorned with intricate frescoes of Aetheria’s victories and triumphs, seemed to stretch endlessly above them.

  The air was heavy with the scent of incense and the quiet murmur of anticipation among the royal advisers.

  Theron’s eyes were fixed on the grand doors of the hall, which slowly creaked open to reveal King Adir of Kerios and his entourage. The Keriosi king moved with a regal confidence, his tunic flowing around him as he strode into the room.

  Theron’s grip tightened on the edge of the armrest of his chair, his knuckles whitening. He had never liked the Kerios, and that disdain had only grown over the years. Perhaps it was something his mother, Queen Thenna, had instilled in him since he was a boy, an unspoken contempt for the land that had once been Aetheria’s rival.

  He knew the history well, Kerios had a vast army and immense wealth, but they lacked the one thing that made Aetheria the center of the known world, Aether. In his eyes Kerios was just another desert kingdom, reliant on the trade treaties that his father had orchestrated through marriage.

  As Keriosi King got closer, King Eldrion rose from his seat, "King Adir, it is always a pleasure to see you," he said warmly, his voice echoing with a welcoming smile, his arms outstretched in a gesture of friendship.

  "I must admit, your visit brings me great joy. However, the message I received carried a note of urgency. I hope all is well." King Eldrion gestured his guest to take a seat at the large round table.

  King Adir returned the smile, though Theron could see a shadow pass briefly across his face. "Eldrion," he began, his voice deep and steady as he sat, "Our friendship and alliance have brought prosperity to both our kingdoms. The trade treaty we have established has been nothing short of a miracle, bridging our lands and cultures. For this, I am eternally grateful."

  Theron’s eyes narrowed slightly as he listened. He knew the Keriosi King was no fool. Adir was a seasoned ruler who weighed every word carefully. Whatever he was about to say next was the true purpose of his visit.

  Adir continued, his tone shifting to one of gravity. "However, I must speak plainly, as the summer in Kerios has been harsher than ever. The heat has scorched our fields, and our water supplies have dwindled. Our produce has suffered greatly."

  He paused, his gaze sweeping over the room, lingering on Theron for a heartbeat before returning to Eldrion. "I am here to personally apologize for the reduced volume of spices and silk we are able to export this year. We request that Aetheria grant us some relief, a leniency in the terms of our trade agreement for the next two to three years, as we recover from this calamity."

  Theron felt a flicker of irritation. Spices and silk were valuable, yes, but they were not vital. They were luxuries that Aetheria could live without, at least for a time. But still, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was merely the beginning of more demands to come.

  King Eldrion nodded thoughtfully; his expression carefully neutral. "I understand your predicament, Adir," he said. "These are indeed challenging times, I have heard of the harsher summer than usual in Kerios and I am sympathetic to your plight. But you must also understand the importance of this treaty to Aetheria.”

  Eldrion shifted slightly, his tone measured yet firm. “The Green Sand we receive from Kerios is vital to Aetheria’s foundation, just as our grain and the access to our trade routes are to yours. Any deviation from our agreement does not merely affect commerce, it threatens the balance we have worked tirelessly to preserve.”

  Adir inclined his head, his expression sincere. “I understand, Eldrion. That is precisely why I have come in person to reaffirm my commitment. Rest assured, the green sand exports will be delivered in full, as promised. It is only the spices and silk where we seek leniency for. Kerios will honor its obligations to the best of its ability, but in these trying times, we ask for understanding.”

  Theron’s gaze flicked to his father, searching for any sign of his response. Eldrion was a fair and just ruler, but Theron knew fairness could be a weakness—especially with a kingdom that had once been their enemy.

  Eldrion’s expression remained unreadable, but before he could speak, Theron leaned forward, his stance rigid, his tone cold, "With all due respect, King Adir," Theron began, "this ‘shortage’ affects more than Aetherian courtly luxuries."

  Theron continued, "Our other trade agreements with northern kingdoms rely on a steady supply of spices and silk we import from Kerios. Any disruption risks damaging our economy and straining alliances with those who depend on our exports."

  Theron’swords were sharper than necessary, "Aetheria has never faltered in its commitments. We expect the same in return."

  A murmur rippled through the chamber. Adviser Kharis shifted uneasily, his gaze darting between Theron and the Keriosi delegation. Theron knew his father disapproved of his tone, but he didn’t care. He had little patience for Kerios. His words were meant to press on Adir—to make him feel the weight of his request and, perhaps, a hint of shame for making it.

  Adir’s mustache twitched, his eyes narrowing slightly. His advisers exchanged wary glances, sensing the tension. When he spoke, his voice carried a harder edge.

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  "Prince Theron," he said, measured but firm, "Kerios has always upheld our end of the bargain, even in hardship. This is the first time we have sought relief from Aetheria. Surely, the strength of our alliance can withstand such a request."

  Theron didn’t yield. "And yet, Your Majesty," he countered, his tone laced with mockery, "this is how such things begin. A small request here, a leniency there—until the balance is tipped, and one side bears the burden for both."

  The tension in the room was palpable now, thick enough to cut with a knife. Adir's jaw tightened visibly. When Adir spoke again, his voice was firm, his usual warmth replaced with a cool, controlled fury.

  "Young Prince Theron," he said slowly, his eyes locked onto the young prince's, "Kerios is not blessed with a divine crystal that solves half its problems. We toil, day in and day out, facing our challenges with sweat and blood.”

  Adir slightly shifted forward as he continued, “We have managed our affairs with diligence and honor. The water shortages, though dire, are being handled with the resilience and determination of my people.”

  He looked straight in Theron’s eyes before concluding his response, “We do not rely merely on the whims of fate or God gifted magic, but on hard work and perseverance."

  The words were a deliberate strike, and they landed true. Theron’s face flushed with anger. He could feel the eyes of the council upon him, could sense their unease and the shift in their mood. To be so chastised in front of his own court was a blow to his pride, and he could feel a retort boiling up within him, a sharp response ready to lash out.

  But before he could speak, his father, King Eldrion, raised a hand. "Enough," Eldrion said gently, yet with a firmness that brooked no argument. He turned to his son, his expression a mix of disappointment and quiet authority. "Wisdom comes with age and experience. It is not our place to judge without understanding the full measure of another's plight. Nor should a prince speak out of turn in such matters."

  Theron clenched his jaw, swallowing back his words, his eyes lowering as a flush of shame washed over him.

  Eldrion turned back to Adir, "Let us retire to the council chamber and speak of this matter in greater detail, away from the eyes and ears of our court. It is clear that we have much to discuss, and it is best that we do so with calm minds and open hearts."

  Adir nodded, the tension easing slightly from his posture. "As you wish, King Eldrion. I have always found your counsel to be wise and fair. I trust we will find a resolution that honors both our kingdoms."

  As the two kings got up from their chairs and turned to leave, Theron stood and walked out briskly out of the council hall, his boots thudding heavily against the polished marble floors of the palace. His face was a mask of fury, flushed a deep crimson that matched the crimson of the royal banners hanging along the corridors.

  His hands were clenched into tight fists, knuckles white as he marched through the palace hall, his mind racing with a thousand angry thoughts. The humiliating scene in the council chamber burned in his mind, and the sting of his father’s rebuke cut deeper than he cared to admit. But more than the insult from Adir, it was the helplessness that gnawed at him.

  As Theron walked toward his mother’s chambers, the familiar knot of frustration tightened in his chest. Each step felt heavier, burdened by a sense of entrapment he couldn’t shake.

  It had been a week, his mother's health detoriated. She went from taking longer and frequent naps to not being fully conscious anymore.

  She had always been the only one who truly understood him, the one who always saw his potential for greatness. She had been his confidant, his anchor in a sea of court politics and life.

  The anger flared hotter within him at the helplessness he felt. Her once-vibrant presence had dimmed, her voice that used to offer counsel reduced to mere whispers. The dark, looming specter of her death was suffocating him, a heavy shadow that clung to him even in the quietest moments. And he had no one to turn to.

  When he reached her chambers, Theron pushed open the door with more force than necessary, the groan of the hinges echoing in the stillness of the room.

  Inside, the air was thick with the sharp, acrid scent of medicinal herbs. Two medics stood by her bedside, busy with their own tasks. One was grinding herbs, their scent sharp and earthy, while the other hovered near her head, making small adjustments to the damp cloth resting on her forehead.

  Two temple healers, their hands glowing faintly with blue light, were channeling healing spells into Thenna’s frail body. The energy felt cold to Theron, its power unnerving in its stillness. He stepped into the room, trying to keep his composure as he stood silently in the doorway, feeling like a ghost in his own mother’s presence.

  Theron’s anger melted into worry as he saw his mother’s pale, drawn face. She looked so small, so fragile. Her breathing shallow and labored. The medic nearest her looked up as Theron approached, his expression cautious.

  "She’s sleeping," the medic said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  Theron nodded curtly, gesturing for the medic to follow him out of the chamber. Once they were outside, away from the prying eyes and ears of the other attendants, Theron turned on him, his voice a low, angry hiss.

  "She has been sleeping for days now, speak plainly, what is her condition?"

  "She... she is slowly getting worse, Your Highness," he stammered, his voice trembling. "We are doing everything we can, but her condition is—"

  "Incompetent fools!" Theron snapped, cutting him off. His voice rose in anger, echoing down the empty corridor. "I don't need to hear excuses for your failures, I need results! Fetch the Grand Medic at once. I will not tolerate the presence of low-level medics and healers who can do nothing for her."

  "Y-yes, Your Highness," he said, bowing his head quickly. "I will inform the Grand Medic immediately and request his presence."

  Theron took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves.

  "And what about the temple healers?" he demanded, his tone still sharp. "What good is that damned crystal if it can't even heal a sickly woman?"

  "Th..The… temple custodians are doing their best, my lord," he said carefully with a hesitant tone. "But... there is only so much they can do. Aetherial healing is powerful, but it is not a cure-all. It can only support her body’s natural healing processes."

  Theron's frustration boiled over again, though he managed to rein it in, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

  "What else can the temple healers do?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing. "There must be something more. Something we haven’t tried yet."

  "P-Perhaps... perhaps maybe if the Queen were brought closer to the Crystal itself, the Aether's power might... might help her more directly?" he stammered. The medic looked utterly lost, his face pale.

  Theron froze, the suggestion hanging in the air. It was a desperate idea, untested, but it was something worth trying. It was a chance, however slim. And right now, he would grasp at any hope, any possibility, no matter how remote.

  "Yes," Theron said slowly, his mind racing. "Yes, that might work." His voice grew more determined, more resolute.

  The medic nodded quickly, eager to escape the prince’s wrath, bowing deeply before hurrying back into the chamber.

  Theron watched him go, his heart pounding in his chest. This had to work. It just had to. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing his mother, not now, not when he needed her most.

  ***