Scene 1: Stripped of RoyaltyThe moment Queen Elya left the palace, Queen Morenike seized her opportunity. For years, she had tolerated the presence of the daughters of elya’s , watching as they moved through the palace with the same entitlement as her own children. She despised it. Now, with their last protector gone, it was time to rid herself of them.Darius barely hesitated when she suggested it. “Send them away. Marry them off to peasants. Let them remember they were only princesses because we allowed it.”The decree was swift. Before the sun had fully risen, the girls—mere teenagers of sixteen and seventeen—were dragged before Darius.“You will be married by morning,” he declared, his voice as cold as the marble beneath their feet.The elder of the two, Abeni, swallowed back her fear. “But we are daughters of the king!”Darius leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “The king is dead. And you? You are nothing now.”The younger girl, Temi, broke into sobs. “Please

Scene 1 – A Kingdom in Flames (The Priestess’s Nightmare)The air was thick with smoke. Screams filled the sky as fire devoured homes, marketplaces, and sacred temples. The once-glorious kingdom was now a wasteland of ash and ruin. The palace gates stood ajar, yet there was nowhere to run. The streets were filled with bodies—lifeless, charred, and abandoned—while mothers wailed and warriors fought a desperate, futile battle against an unseen force.In a heart-wrenching display of despair, the corpse of a fallen chief was hoisted onto the shoulders of desperate men and carried toward the palace. Blood dripped onto the sacred grounds, an unutterable abomination in the eyes of the people. The king’s guards, paralyzed by fear, abandoned their posts; some dropped their weapons and fled, realizing that their kingdom was slipping into chaos.The sky darkened—not with clouds, but with a malevolent presence that seeped into every corner of the land. A deep, ominous voice echoed through the smo

The Priestess’s Fall – A Kingdom’s CurseThe news spread like wildfire.The palace priestess—disgraced and dismissed.Whispers filled the market squares and royal courtyards. Some said the gods would curse Darius for what he had done. Others believed the kingdom had lost its last protection. But none dared to speak too loudly.Queen Morenike sat in her chamber, the words of the court still fresh in her ears.“The priestess was humiliated… thrown out like a beggar.”She exhaled sharply. Darius had gone too far this time.Ignoring the cautious glances of her attendants, she left the palace and made her way through the village streets.The priestess’s hut was small, its once-sacred walls now seeming frail and broken.Morenike hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside. “Priestess.”The old woman sat by a dimly lit clay lamp, her back to the queen. She did not move, did not acknowledge her.“I did not come to mock you,” Morenike said carefully. “What Darius did was cruel.”Still,

A Forgotten AllyThe palace halls were silent as Shakur walked through them, his steps careful, his heart uncertain. He had not been summoned here in years. Not since Darius took the throne.Yet today, the king had sent for him.He entered the royal chamber to find Darius lounging on his throne, a goblet in one hand, a smirk playing on his lips.“Shakur,” Darius drawled, his voice carrying the weight of command. “You’ve been quiet.”Shakur bowed deeply. “My king, I—”Darius waved a hand. “Spare me the formalities. I should have done this long ago.” He leaned forward. “You have always been loyal to me, haven’t you?”Shakur hesitated. Once, that would have been true. But in recent years, he had begun to doubt. He had whispered with those who wanted Darius gone. Had considered rebellion.And yet—faced with the king himself, the fire of betrayal wavered.“Of course, my king,” he finally said.Darius smiled, as if that was the only answer he had been expecting. “Then it’s time I reward tha

Scene 1 – Amara & Zafar: A Mother’s WarningThe sun had begun its slow descent, casting a golden-orange glow over the village. The marketplace had quieted, the sounds of traders and buyers fading into the soft hum of the evening breeze. The scent of dried fish and herbs lingered in the air, mingling with the distant smoke from cooking fires. Beyond the stalls, the dusty footpaths stretched toward the outer edges of the village, where Amara’s modest home sat—a small hut with woven mats covering the entrance, a clay pot resting by the doorstep.Inside, the dim glow of a flickering lantern cast shadows along the walls. Amara sat on a wooden stool, her fingers gripping the edge of a basket she had been arranging. Her expression was unreadable, but her stiff posture betrayed her unease.The door creaked open.Zafar stepped in, barefoot, his body still glistening with sweat from the fight. He was taller than most boys his age, his lean form already showing signs of strength beyond his years