Crown of the Cursed King

> "Before kingdoms were broken… before curses were born… there was peace—fragile, flickering, and doomed to fade."

Long before the rise of Vaithara, before the wars that tore empires apart, there existed a kingdom that stood above all others—Svarlokh, the Greatest of Great Kingdoms. It was a realm where rivers flowed like veins of silver, where temples kissed the clouds, and where magic and steel danced side by side.

At its helm stood King Paras Vajramitra, a ruler known not just for his unmatched swordsmanship and intellect, but for his unshakable sense of justice. He ruled with two queens—Queen Aryana, the mother of his eldest son and a tactician revered by generals, and Queen Veyara, soft-spoken yet politically shrewd. His three sons were raised in discipline, strategy, and the philosophy of rule.

But even the greatest kingdoms cannot escape the tides of change.

The Beginning of Fractures

Svarlokh was one among the Five Supreme Kingdoms—alongside Zing Yu, Karthalis, Myraquel, and Dravarn—each a powerful empire, each a world in itself. The balance they shared lasted for decades. Trade was rich, borders were open, knowledge was shared, and disputes were settled through diplomacy.

But peace rarely survives ambition.

It began with water. The Elkara River, a vital source of life, began to dry near Karthalis due to upstream diversions. Accusations followed. Diplomats failed. Small skirmishes erupted along borders.

Then came land—territorial claims expanded as kingdoms began fortifying trade posts with hidden militias. Trade taxes rose. Trust plummeted.

And finally, power. Whispers of one kingdom rising to seize dominance grew louder, shaking the fragile alliances.

To prevent an all-out war, a Grand Assembly was called—something that had not happened in centuries. The location: Santhravana, a neutral city in the center of Varnakya, the continent known as the cradle of civilization.

It was here that fates would twist forever.

The Assembly of Kings

The city of Santhravana trembled with tension as banners of all five kingdoms fluttered in the wind. The ceremonial drums were drowned by the silent tension between the delegations. Royal processions arrived one after another. Soldiers marched in perfect formations, priests chanted hymns for peace, and spies whispered in the shadows.

Inside the Grand Hall, the Five Thrones stood—each carved from the sacred stone of its homeland.

King Paras Vajramitra sat tall, his black-and-gold armor reflecting torchlight. To his right stood his most trusted advisor and mage—Archwizard Vaidantha, draped in robes of midnight, with silver runes glowing faintly around his sleeves.

Zing Yu's King, Yao Zhen, entered with serene grace, accompanied by his monk-general Master Shulin, a man whose very silence held weight. Karthalis's Queen Soraya Ilentha, fierce and proud, brought her war strategists. Myraquel's ruler, King Rulvian, came surrounded by merchants and economists. Dravarn's sea-lord King Helros carried maps instead of swords.

The meeting began.

The Proposed Accord

> "Let there be no single throne that dominates others," declared King Yao Zhen calmly.

"Let power shift every ten years," added Queen Soraya, "rotating leadership to maintain equality."

"Trade routes, border agreements, taxation—all shall be governed by the leading kingdom during its tenure," said King Rulvian.

King Paras nodded slowly, absorbing every word. It was a reasonable solution. A rotating leadership across five kingdoms, with a unified council maintaining oversight.

But then came the elephant in the hall—magic.

Master Shulin, voice gentle but resolute, spoke:

> "Magic must be bound. Let it be used for healing, teaching, and spiritual growth—not warfare, manipulation, or domination."

Three kingdoms agreed. Even King Paras, initially quiet, leaned toward compromise. But Archwizard Vaidantha's eyes narrowed, and his voice rang across the hall.

> "You wish to mute the lifeblood of this world. Magic is not a weapon—it is a consciousness, older than thrones, older than kings."

King Helros replied sharply, "Then why does your kingdom keep towers of spell-weavers near its borders?"

Vaidantha's voice grew colder. "And your ships carry canisters of burning oil. Shall we ban fire too?"

The hall grew heavy.

> "Enough," said King Paras, rising. "If unity is our aim, we must make sacrifices—even painful ones."

Vaidantha's heart cracked in silence.

> "You would silence centuries of arcane learning… because they fear what they cannot control?" he asked, voice trembling not with fear, but betrayal.

The final decision was made. Magic shall be limited, regulated, and kept away from matters of state or war.

That night, King Paras called Vaidantha privately.

> "My friend… you know I value you more than anyone. But the tide is turning. I cannot protect you from the council's will."

Vaidantha stood still. "So, the will of cowards becomes your crown?"

> "I had no choice," Paras said softly.

> "You did," Vaidantha whispered. "You just didn't choose me."

The Curse of Betrayal

At dawn, Vaidantha walked to the gates of the royal court alone. Before the watching eyes of kings and guards, he raised his staff high. The skies turned grey, winds howled.

> "I do not raise war against your kingdoms… I raise war against your time."

> "Your sons will fight wars you won't live to see. Your people will drink blood instead of water. Your thrones will rot from within. I shall not fight you with swords—I shall fight you with fate."

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At dawn, Vaidantha walked to the gates of the royal court alone. Before the watching eyes of kings and guards, he raised his staff high. The skies turned grey, winds howled.

> "I do not raise war against your kingdoms… I raise war against your time."

"Your sons will fight wars you won't live to see. Your people will drink blood instead of water. Your thrones will rot from within. I shall not fight you with swords—I shall fight you with fate."

Lightning cracked in the sky—unnaturally loud, unnaturally close. A raven flew overhead, then fell dead mid-flight.

Vaidantha turned his back on the council and walked into the storm, disappearing into the shadows of Santhravana's northern hills. No one followed. No one dared.

King Paras stood still, unable to speak. He looked to his hands—hands that once held a kingdom together, now trembling.

The other rulers whispered among themselves, but the silence in Paras's heart was louder than thunder.

That night, a cold wind swept across the halls of all Five Kingdoms. Dogs barked without reason. Children woke screaming from nightmares they couldn't explain. The royal scribes noted it simply as a "weather anomaly."

But in the ancient libraries of Zing Yu, monks opened an old scroll sealed for centuries. On it were four words, glowing faintly under the moonlight:

> "The First Curse Begins."

And far from the kingdoms, deep within the forgotten caverns of the Ebonwild, an old altar lit itself—stone by stone, rune by rune—as if something had finally awakened.

The kingdoms slept.

But fate had already risen.

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[End of Chapter 3]