Chapter 8 The King Is Dead!?

The capital of Eldoria, Volpia a city renowned for its golden spires and vibrant streets, now lay shrouded in an unsettling quiet. The palace, a symbol of opulence and power, seemed to be holding its breath, as though it too could sense the end of an era approaching. King Edric Eldoria, once the pillar of strength and fairness for the kingdom, was now a frail shadow of his former self, his health rapidly deteriorating. The kingdom that had once thrived under his rule began to unravel, mirroring the decline of the king's own body.

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The royal physician, a weary man with deep-set eyes that betrayed years of witnessing suffering, stood solemnly before King Edric. The king, draped in heavy furs, sat in his high-backed chair, his once-imposing frame now a mere skeleton beneath the lavish fabric.

"My king," the physician began, his voice laden with sorrow. "The deterioration you're experiencing... it's not a natural illness. You've been poisoned."

Edric's eyes, once so sharp, narrowed with disbelief and anger. The truth hit him like a sledgehammer. "Poisoned? By whom?" he demanded, his voice a strained rasp.

The physician's gaze fell to the floor. "I do not know, my lord. But it has been administered slowly, over time. It must be someone close to you....."

Edric's hand trembled as he gripped the armrest of his chair. Betrayal gnawed at his insides. His thoughts raced through the faces of those nearest to him—his advisors, his servants, his family. The physician was dismissed with a curt wave, leaving the room to darken with the weight of Edric's grim realization. Alone, the king felt the crushing weight of the poison, the insidious poison, and the betrayal that had poisoned his life.

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Months later, as his health reached its nadir, King Edric lay on his deathbed. The once-grand chamber, now filled with the morose flicker of candlelight, seemed to close in around him. The kingdom outside was in mourning, but within the royal chamber, a tense silence reigned as the family gathered.

Queen Liana, her regal poise unbroken, sat by the bedside. Her dark hair framed her face like a veil, her eyes betraying nothing of the storm within. At the foot of the bed stood Crown Prince Aldric, his face a mask of unreadable tension, while Princess Elle, her cheeks streaked with tears, knelt beside her father, her small hands clinging desperately to his cold, clammy fingers.

King Edric's breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. His body, once powerful, was now nothing but a vessel of suffering. His eyes, however, were filled with a fierce, burning anger. With what little strength he had left, he fixed his gaze on Liana.

"Liana," he rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Come closer. I need to speak with you."

Queen Liana, her composure unwavering, leaned in, her thoughts racing. "What could he want now?" Her mind was already calculating her next move, preparing for any eventuality. She moved closer to the edge of the bed, her curiosity and concern masked by a practiced calm.

"Closer," Edric urged, his voice strained. "Closer still."

Liana leaned in, her face just inches from Edric's. As she did, a glint of steel flashed from beneath the folds of the heavy blankets. With a sudden, desperate strength, Edric pulled a hidden knife from his sleeve. Before Liana could react, he thrust the blade with all the force he could muster into her throat.

The shock of the attack was immediate and horrifying. Liana's eyes widened in disbelief as the knife bit into her flesh, her mouth opening in a silent scream. Blood spurted from the wound, staining the once-pristine sheets a dark crimson. Her hand flew to her throat, but it was too late. The room erupted in chaos.

Princess Elle's scream pierced the air, a raw, agonized sound that reverberated off the walls. She scrambled back from the bloodied bed, her face contorted in horror and disbelief. "Mother! No!" she cried, her voice breaking with anguish.

Prince Aldric stood frozen, his face ashen, the weight of the old memory colliding violently with the present reality. His heart pounded in his chest as the scene before him unfolded with grotesque clarity. His mind raced, trying to reconcile the memory of his mother's betrayal with the brutal truth now laid bare.

Queen Liana, her life ebbing away, gasped for breath, her eyes locking with Edric's in a final, horrified recognition. "You… you.…" she managed to croak out, her voice choked by the blood that filled her throat.

Edric's strength was rapidly fading, but his rage burned brightly. He managed a twisted smile, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. "You whore!" he spat, his voice a venomous hiss. "You and your family will rot in hell with me! Hahaha!" His laughter, ragged and pained, mixed with his final, sputtering breaths.

As Liana's body slumped to the side, her blood pooling around her, the room fell into a deathly silence. Edric's laughter turned into a fit of violent coughing. His body convulsed, the effort proving too much for his frail form. With a final, gasping breath, he too succumbed to the poison that had ravaged him.

The chamber was filled with the horrific tableau of the king's final act of vengeance and the palpable grief of his family. Princess Elle was now sobbing uncontrollably, her cries echoing through the chamber. Aldric stood motionless, the realization of his mother's betrayal and the horror of his father's last moments settling heavily on his shoulders.

The death of King Edric Eldoria was an end to a reign that had once promised prosperity. His final act had been one of brutal, unrestrained vengeance, leaving behind a legacy tainted by blood and betrayal. As the room filled with the sound of anguished cries and the eerie silence of death, the future of the kingdom hung precariously in the balance, its fate now uncertain.

The capital of Eldoria outside remained oblivious to the bloody drama unfolding within the palace walls. The city, draped in mourning, was silent, save for the distant tolling of the bells that marked the end of an era. The palace, once a beacon of hope and strength, now stood as a grim monument to the darkness that had claimed its ruler.