《Hallowed crown.》 Regret of the lich King. Clock... Clock Clock.. A pervading stench filled the air as the smell of decaying flesh and bone permeated the very walls of the Throne Room of the Eternal One. It was a space where time seemed to bend and break, where shadows clung to the darkness like old, rotting memories. The room was built from dark obsidian stone. Its high ceilings arched in grotesque patterns, resembling the broken ribs of some long-forgotten behemoth, while ancient banners hung lifelessly, swaying ever so slightly as though moved by an unseen breeze that simply didn''t exist. Skeletons, some human and some from races that he didn''t even bother remembering, shuffled aimlessly across the cold, unyielding floor. Their bony feet scraped against the stone, sending eerie echoes through the chamber. Their hollow eye sockets glimmered faintly, not with life, but with an eerie, disinterested glow. Perhaps in another time, another age, another era, he might have reveled in such a sight. But now, after achieving all he had ever sought, after centuries of relentless war against the holy cities of Priscilla, an emptiness lingered within him... one he no longer felt the need to comprehend. Victory, once so desperately chased, had now left him hollow.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Only a husk of the man he once was. At the far end of the room, upon a throne of charred bones and blackened metal, sat the Lich King. His tattered cloak, once regal, now hung from his skeletal frame in strips, His skull cracked in places, which continually leaked faint, smoky wisps from his hollow eye sockets, as though he were barely hanging on to life. "Perhaps," the Lich King muttered, his voice a raspy whisper that reverberated throughout the vast, empty hall, "this is what mortals call regret." He lifted his skeletal hand, watching as his Mana coursed through his brittle bones like dark lightning. I.. His words trailed off. He''d almost forgotten how good it felt to sleep. and could faintly remember the warmth of the sun on his skin, the taste of sweet wine, and the sound of laughter that came from his family. And he would never forget how good it felt to To? I think I''ve lost something very important to me" .. . . After a while of sitting there, the Lich King rose from his throne, his brittle bones creaking under the strain. For the first time in centuries, he felt compelled to move, to do something other than sit in silence. As his gaunt hand extended, the skeletons below him collapsed into a heap of brittle bones. The Aether that once animated them had faded, its life force no longer suffusing their hollow frames, leaving them lifeless once more. I need a walk End “Malfus?” Khalazar''s steps echoed through the Throne Room as he moved toward the massive double doors at the far end of the hall, the sound reverberating off the high, vaulted ceilings. The faint light of the chandeliers above cast long, flickering shadows across the polished floor, adding to the eerie silence that normally gripped the room. A cluster of sprites and undead creatures hurried forward, eager to retrieve his scattered equipment and present it to him. But a single glare from him froze them in place, silencing their movements. With their heads bowed in reluctant submission, they hesitated, then slowly began to retreat, clearing his path without a word and allowing him to continue his walk undisturbed. As he moved, the distant sound of dragging feet grew louder. The corridor stretched ahead, dimly lit by the flickering torches mounted along the walls. As screams of men, women, and children sounded from up ahead, a smile twisted across his lips as he rounded the corner to get a better look at his stock. "Please... please," one of the cattle gasped, her voice hoarse from fear and exhaustion. "Spare my children... I beg you! Take me, do whatever you want, but leave them be!" The cattle''s trembling hands clutched her children tightly, her tears streaking her dirt-stained face. Khalazar''s gaze locked onto her, unmoved by her pleas. He tilted his head as though considering her offer. A glimmer of hope flickered in her eyes before his voice reverberated through the halls. "Farnoth," he echoed, and her scream was swallowed by the hiss of magic as her flesh hardened into stone. ( End of flashback ) (? ???????) Khalazars steps echoed through the Throne Room as he moved toward the massive double doors at the far end of the hall. Each footfall reverberated off the high, vaulted ceilings, filling the silence with a rhythm that seemed to mock the stillness of the room. The faint, ghostly glow of chandeliers above cast fractured, wavering shadows across the weathered floor, creating a dance of light and dark that seemed alive.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. There were no sprites or undead to greet him as he moved, which left the path clear before him. He resumed his walk, undisturbed, his pace deliberate yet oddly aimless. The walls were etched with lines of runes and sigils, each one intricately carved into the walls, complementing and amplifying the effects of the others. The runes, shaped like three different sets of opposing alphabetical words, lined the walls in perfect order, crowned by sigils at the top or bottom. Each sigil was empowered by the room itself, its magic waiting to manifest in response to the surroundings. It was a simple enchantment, yet one he found indispensable. Some of his unwilling captives could be incredibly aggressive when his golems or constructs dragged them toward the experimental chambersor directly to him. This enchantment, though subtle, kept them subdued, ensuring their resistance was quelled before they could cause any trouble. There were contingency plans woven into the fabric of the other runes, designed to regenerate the walls in the event of an explosion and to nullify any spells not tied to necromantic magic. The second contingency, which involved runes imbued with flesh magic, was meant to swiftly kill a captive in case they overpowered the golems. However, such measures were never required. Over time, he had perfected a more reliable solution, which was chains imbued with anti-magic. Perhaps he was paranoid, but it was that very paranoia that had kept him alive time and time again. Yet now, it all felt useless. There were no invaders left to fear, no enemies still alive who could stand against him. Ahead, the corridor opened into a small, circular chamber bathed in blue light. At its center stood the statue of a woman. Her face was etched with anguish, her wide eyes and open mouth captured in an eternal expression of shock and pain. One pair of her hands reached outward, as though pleading for mercy, while the other clung desperately to three children huddled at her side. The children mirrored her terror, their tiny faces carved with fear, as if they too were caught in a moment of inescapable dread. Khalazar stood motionless before her, his gaze locked onto her features. The chamber was silent, save for the faint hum of his magic that still pulsed faintly through her form. His skeletal hand lifted, trembling slightly as he reached out to trace the curve of her cheek. You begged for them, he whispered, his voice a dry rasp that barely disturbed the air, And I took everything from you, and the others as well. It was foolish; that for sure he knew to be certain. The dead could not speak unless he dragged a living soul back into its body. But that was impossible now. Her body was completely petrified, beyond even his ability to manipulate. "And I suppose" "No" "I was the one who killed her and pillaged her people. I should not be saying any of this. It is wrong." Khalazar drew his hand back, his bony fingers curling into a fist. His voice, which had wavered with the faintest hint of regret, hardened again, becoming the cold, commanding tone that had brought nations to their knees. He couldnt afford to feel such things. His emotions were a distraction he could not indulge in. With a decisive turn, he prepared to leave the chamber to continue his walk when a sudden shift at the corner of his vision made him freeze. His instincts flared. He whipped around, ready to face whatever threat lurked in the shadows. But his breath caught in his chest when he saw that it was only one of his constructs. Malfus? Im alive and kicking. (Not a chapter) I''m going to make it! (Maybe) After all, it took quite a while, and I''m not sure if I should truly be saying I''m going to be all right, especially if I don''t know if tomorrow is going to be my last day breathing on this Earth. However, I can say with full confidence that I might make it out alive. Umm, I noticed we got three followers, so that''s pretty great. Thank you to whoever decided to follow this book. I am somewhat of a decent author; I used to write in the past, but I no longer write as much anymore. If the updates feel not as consistent or frequent as they should be, I am extremely sorry. It''s just me trying to make sure everything looks right. I have an editor helping me with everything, and I also use Grammarly whenever I feel that something is a little off. So yeah, I would also appreciate it if anyone could call out any typos, because that would be very helpful. I''m not in the position to ask my editor to edit anything for me since I''m not in a job right now; I''m kind of on a break, (more like trying to recover really), and I''m not going to be receiving my paycheck for a while. So yeah, umm again, thank you to everybody who decided to drop a follow; it''s really great. Anyway, goodbye.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Malfus and Amélie. Malfus? "Master?" the creature Malfus inquired, stepping forward. His voice carried with it a mix of reverence and caution, a familiar tone that Khalazar had grown used to over the years. "Are you... troubled? He was an imposing thing, easily seven feet tall, his long, spindly hands extending downward, almost unnervingly reaching his toenails. His neck was impossibly elongated, giving him an unsettling and unnatural posture. His face was devoid of eyes, with only the hollow sockets of his skull where they should have been, replaced instead by two beady dots. His mouth was wide, grotesque, and almost too large for his face, while his nose was little more than a sharp, featureless ridge. Despite his slender, almost gaunt appearance, there was no sign of hesitation or weakness in his stance. "I''m... fine," Khalazar said slowly, a forced smile creeping across his face, if it could even be called that, though it didn''t quite reach his eyes. "I''m just happy to see you, old friend," he continued, his voice low. Malfus tilted his head, his elongated neck twisting unnaturally as he studied Khalazar. Despite his grotesque appearance, there was a peculiar gentleness in his movements, a quality that often unnerved those who first encountered him. "Master," Malfus began cautiously, his voice a low, gravelly tone that resonated in the chamber. "Forgive me, but you rarely smile. Did something good happen that I was not made aware of? Khalazar turned away from Malfus, his skeletal frame stiffening slightly as he paced toward the edge of the chamber. The faint blue light from the statue cast his elongated shadow across the walls as he paused, his back still turned to his construct, and let out a breath that was more a hollow rasp than anything resembling life. No, Malfus, he finally said, his voice carrying a weary edge. Nothing good has happened. I was simply thinkingUnauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Is there No! Just leave "Do not mistake my silence for weakness," Khalazar said, his voice sharp, though it lacked its usual venom. "I have no need for your pity, Malfus. I created you to serve, and kill, NOT to question. Malfus bowed his head, his spindly hands clasping together in a gesture of submission. "Of course, Master. Forgive my insolence." And turned around ready to leave when he was stopped. Wait, Khalazars voice rang out. Master? ============ (?????)???? "Miss Amlie De La Fontaine, come back here at once! Your father and mother are calling for you and await your presence in the throne room. Please don''t run off on your own, I beg you!" Amlies footsteps echoed in the vast corridor as she stormed away from the throne room, her silken gown trailing behind her like a shadow. The words rang in her mind like a constant, bitter refrain, each one more cutting than the last. "Bastard." It was a label that had followed her since her birth, a stain on her name and face that no amount of fine clothes or polished manners could fix. It wasn''t enough that her whore of a mother decided to kill herself so as not to face the shame of what she had done but had also left her in the hands of a man who barely had a heart for his family. Amlie had grown used to the whispers behind her back, the disapproving glances, and the way people treated her like she was something less than human. It wasn''t fair. She didn''t ask for this. If she could have chosen her fate, she would have much rather been in the hands of a loving family that would have been happy to take her in, despite their poverty or whatever circumstances they were in. It would have been much more preferable than being here. Amlie De La Fontaine get back here this instant! But Amlies steps only quickened down the winding corridor. The sound of her name being called echoed from behind her, but she refused to turn around. She couldnt bear the thought of returning to that suffocating throne room and couldn''t bear to even look at her ''father. Lady "Tell father and mother, I will carve my own path. I will not be bound by their schemes, nor will I be sent to a foreign house to be married off like a mere pawn to further their ambitions. If they crave more power, let them find their own way. They are mistaken if they think I will play their game. But- "Go! That''s an order. Amlie snapped. The servant hesitated for a moment, but quickly bowed his head and backed away, before leaving. I hate this place =========== (? ????? ??? ???) How long have I been absent for? About 4,000 years, master. its been much longer than I thought"