WORSE THAN ANYONE IMAGINED…”

1 MINUTE AGO! Prince Rowan Confirms the Horrifying Truth About His Uncle Alastair — A Secret Buried for Decades…**

A storm of cameras flashed outside Evermere Palace as frantic press scrambled for answers. Security lines doubled. The gates locked tight. The world sensed catastrophe before a single word escaped the palace walls.

Inside the War Chamber, candles cast trembling shadows over rulers who no longer felt in control.

Prince Rowan stood before the royal sigil—his hands shaking, his voice barely staying alive.

“It’s worse than anyone thought,” he whispered. “So much worse…”

Princess Elara reached for him, but Rowan stepped forward, needing to face the world’s eyes.

The court advisors looked like statues carved from fear. Even hard-hearted generals dared not interrupt.

For ten years, Prince Alastair’s disappearance had been chalked up to disgrace and rebellion. A rogue royal. A scandal wrapped in silk.

Tonight, the truth rose like a serpent from the dark.

Rowan forced out the words that ripped through Evermere like cannon fire:

“Oh gods… Alastair has joined the Serpent Chamber.”

A silence so heavy it seemed to crush the air.

Not a prisoner.
Not a victim.
A leader.

Princess Arwen slammed a scroll onto the table. The seal—black wax stamped with a coiled serpent around a broken crown.

“We intercepted a declaration signed by him,” she spat. “He calls himself the Shadow Regent.”

Elara’s heart froze.

“Their plan…” Rowan said, voice cracking, “is not to destroy the crown. It is to replace it… with his own.”

Whispers ignited.
Shock twisted into dread.
Every royal oath felt suddenly fragile.

Queen Liora closed her eyes, as if reliving every night she prayed the rumors weren’t true.

“I should have seen this coming,” Rowan whispered, shaking his head. “The disappearances… the poisoned throne room… Father’s collapse… all his doing.”

Arwen unsheathed her dagger, steel catching the candle flame.

“He wants Princess Seraphine. Her power. Her prophecy. Her crown.”

Thunder roared outside, rattling the stained glass.

Rowan lifted his head. Grief died in his eyes. Fire replaced it.

“If it is war he wants…” Rowan growled, “then I will become war.”

Elara stepped beside him—guardian, partner, flame.

“We protect the King. We protect Seraphine. We protect Evermere.”

Soldiers slammed fists against armor in a vow that shook the chamber walls.

The kingdom has lost a prince.

The rebellion has gained a king.

Tomorrow, the banners of Evermere and the Serpent Chamber will snap in the wind as enemies.

Only one will still wave by sunrise.