The silence that followed the reading of the prophecy was so thick, it was as though the room itself had forgotten how to breathe. Tension coiled in the air like the aftermath of lightning.
A beat passed.
Then chaos slipped in like a serpent.
Gasps spread like wildfire. The high priests looked at one another with solemn nods, confirming among themselves that the divine message had indeed reached them all. No trickery. No fabrication. The prophecy was real. And its timing… could not have been more damning.
How convenient, Vyan thought, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly at Easton, for such words to fall days before the crown princess's official coronation.
Whispers broke out like cracks on ice.
"They say it's been raining for three days now—what if it floods? The crops…"
"What if the land really does wither?"
"Is it… is it her? The Princess?"
"Should we send her away? Out of the border? Just until it's safe?"
"It must be a sign. A warning."
