"Prince—!"
Aletheis stepped forward—
but stopped.
He had seen it too.
Icarus barely heard him.
Instead—
he heard a voice.
Distant.
Amused.
Priest Caelum.
Chuckling.
How tragic.
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A grand funeral was held for Minister Alros.
It shook the entire kingdom.
He had been respected, admired—almost revered.
Dignitaries from across Solmara gathered to mourn him.
The ceremony was held within the royal palace.
The King himself gave the final address.
"Minister Alros was an honourable man," he said, his voice heavy.
"Solmara will never forget his deeds."
By the end, many were in tears.
Icarus stood in the corner, beside his mother.
She looked worse.
More tired than before.
"Minister Alros was your father's mentor," she said softly.
"He is already so exhausted… I fear he may not recover from this."
Icarus looked toward his father.
The King of Solmara had aged years in days.
He took a torch.
Walked slowly toward the shrouded remains.
Icarus' chest tightened.
He knew what lay beneath.
The flame touched the white cloth.
It caught.
Fire spread.
Smoke rose.
The crowd broke.
"MAY ALROS FIND PEACE IN HEAVEN!" the King roared.
The people echoed him.
Thousands of voices.
One cry.
"MAY ALROS FIND PEACE IN HEAVEN!"
"MAY ALROS FIND PEACE IN HEAVEN!"
"MAY ALROS FIND PEACE IN HEAVEN!"
Icarus shouted with them—
until his throat burned raw.
Then—
he looked back at the King.
And froze.
The King had fallen to his knees.
He was coughing.
Blood stained his lips.
And in the back of Icarus' mind—
a voice echoed.
Your Kingdom will fall…
and there is nothing you can do to save it.
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It had only just begun.
Half the kingdom had fallen.
The Corruption spread faster now.
Burning the mould had not destroyed it—
it had fed it.
Icarus had expected his father to fall first.
He had lit the fire.
But somehow—
the King endured.
Barely.
He coughed blood.
He weakened.
But he still ruled.
For now.
It was the Queen who broke first.
She was confined to her bed.
Day after day—
she lay there,
coughing,
fading.
Icarus stayed by her side.
For hours.
Holding her hand.
Speaking to her.
As if that could stop it.
As if that could save her.
He watched—
helpless—
as she began to change.
Skin to dust.
Flesh to mould.
Until—
he could no longer bear to see her.
He stopped visiting.
Not because he did not care.
But because he did.
His mother was crumbling.
His father was dying.
His kingdom was collapsing.
And he—
could do nothing.
There is nothing you can do to save it.