V The Prophecy

"The prophecy made years ago," the king began, his tone measured, "what are your thoughts on the matter, Seer?"

"My lord, if it is indeed the Word of God, then it cannot be revoked," the seer replied, his voice low and filled with conviction. "The Almighty's will shall be done."

"We must seek forgiveness from the Lord," the seer continued. "If we humbly ask for pardon, the curse may be rendered powerless. God is merciful and just."

The king leaned forward, his eyes locked intently on the seer. "What course of action do you recommend I take, wise Seer?"

The seer's gaze was unwavering. "We must extend a sincere apology to the people of Ezra. It is essential that we—"

The king's trusted eunuch, Rashid, intervened, his tone polished but firm. "Forgive me, Seer, but are you suggesting that His Majesty should humble himself before the people of Ezra, simply because their ancestors uttered a curse against our ruler?"

The king's expression turned rigid, his mind recoiling at the notion. Beg for forgiveness? It was unthinkable. He, a mighty king, could not stoop to plead with a small village. The idea was an affront to his dignity.

"Is there another way, Seer?" the king asked finally, his voice measured, breaking the silence.

The seer's eyes dropped, his heart heavy with the king's response. "Bloodshed without cause is a grave sin, my lord," he said, his tone steady. "Innocent blood cries out for justice, and you have spilled it on the rocks of Mount Herbona. Either punishment or mercy must follow."

The room fell silent, the air thickening with unspoken apprehension. Some courtiers retreated, fearful of the king's reaction. But the seer stood firm, confident in the righteousness of his words.

The eunuch, Kael, shot a venomous glance at the seer before hissing, "So, you're implying that the king brutally slaughtered some insignificant souls, and—"

The seer raised his hands, his voice calm but firm. "I have spoken no treason against His Majesty. I have only spoken the truth, for I stand with the truth."

Kael's face twisted in indignation. "By dishonoring the king?"

High Priest Zachariah intervened, his voice trembling with anger at the eunuch's insolence. "Enough, Kael! We are well aware of the gravity of innocent bloodshed. The man of God's words align with our sacred commandments. We must heed his counsel!"

Royal Advisor Siddharth glided silently across the room, scrutinizing the expressions of the men seated around him. The king's gaze fell upon him, a hint of hope flickering in his voice. "Siddharth, what is your counsel?"

Siddharth's eyes locked onto the king's, his voice steady. "I firmly believe we must heed the prophet's words. Who can defy the will of God and emerge victorious?"

Eunuch Kael's brow furrowed, his tone laced with skepticism. "Who is defying God, sir? We're merely exploring alternatives to appease the prophecy. Can you propose another solution, aside from begging for an apology?"

"Begging for an apology?" High Priest Zachariah's voice was tinged with rebuke. "You're grossly misinterpreting the prophet Nathan's words, Kael! Humility is a virtue, not a weakness. A king must embody humility to lead the nation wisely."

Zachariah's gaze turned stern. "I suggest you take your leave."

Kael's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing contempt at the high priest. However, before he could respond, the king intervened.

"No, let him stay," the king said firmly. "I summoned him here. He is my trusted man."

The royal advisor, historian, seer, and priest shared a weighted glance, tacitly accepting Kael's continued presence. However, High Priest Zachariah's eyes narrowed, sensing the eunuch's sharp words were calculated to manipulate the king's favor and dictate his decisions. Zachariah knew he had to prevent this, lest the king's rash and arrogant choices ruin the kingdom.

Kael flashed a triumphant smirk at Zachariah, then turned to the seer. "I'm sure we can explore alternative solutions to your proposal, Seer," he said, his tone dripping with condescension.

"I am bound to uphold the laws and commandments of our God, Kael," the seer replied with measured courtesy. "I have spoken my piece. Let the king consider the matter and decide as he sees fit."

With a gentle bow, the seer turned to King Agnil. "With your permission, my king, I request leave to depart."

King Agnil nodded graciously, and the seer exited the room with quiet dignity.

***

Blood, everywhere. Pooled around his thighs, dripping from his sword. King Agnil stood victorious, laughing maniacally as the sky above seemed to thunder in rebuke. But his triumphant gaze was shattered by a blood-curdling scream.

His attention snapped back to the horror before him. A man? No, it was a corpse, its eyes frozen in a permanent plea, clinging to the king's robes as it wailed in anguish. 

The king's gaze locked onto the corpse's eyes, their yellowed hue and pus-filled edges making his stomach churn. "Release me!" he commanded, trying to shake off the corpse's grip on his robe. But the dead man's blue, sore-covered hands held fast.

"You are a sovereign bereft of mercy," the corpse declared, its voice a haunting rebuke. "You have slaughtered the innocent, ripped asunder the wombs of our pregnant women. Your cruelty knows no bounds."

The king's face went pale, his lips parting in stunned silence. The weight of his atrocities crushed him, leaving him breathless. "This cannot be," he whispered, shaking his head in desperate denial. "Release me from your grasp!"

The corpse's grip only tightened, its voice rising to a mournful cry. "Why feign innocence? You stand before the Almighty, stripped of pretenses. Your conscience is your accuser." 

The king trembled, his sanity teetering on the brink as the corpse's words seared his conscience.

The corpse's voice was a rusty gate scraping against the king's eardrums. "Why do you remain silent now?" it demanded, the words dripping with malice. "Speak, and justify your atrocities!"

The king's eyes widened in horror as he stared at the corpse, its putrid stench wafting up to assault his nostrils. He could feel the weight of its gaze, like cold fingers pressing against his skin. 

"No, this cannot be..." he whispered, his breath coming in ragged gasps that burned his dry throat, his heart racing wildly.

"Speak, murderer!" the corpse taunted, its voice echoing off the dark recesses of the king's mind. "Offer some excuse for your heinous crimes!"

The king's eyes snapped open, and he sat bolt upright, his voice thundering through the silence like a crack of lightning. "No!" The sound of his own voice was a slap in the face, jolting him awake.

As he sat there, gasping for breath, the darkness receding from his vision, he realized it had all been a dream. A terrible, haunting dream that left his sheets drenched in sweat and his heart still racing.

"A dream," he whispered in realisation, his hand flying to his face and touching the skin which was sweat-stricken.