King Zarik IV, Lord of All Demons, Emperor of Cunning, stared down at the report his spymaster had handed him, reading it over once more to make sure he apprehended every detail correctly.
“The king of demons shall return, and attempt to sacrifice the princess of elves to return to his full power. In her moment of need, a hero with a blade that shines as the sun will appear, to slay the demon king and take her hand in marriage. And you are certain these are the exact words of the prophecy?”
“Quite certain, my Lord. I visited the scrying pool personally as soon as my Watchers informed me.”
“And these elven sages, the Order of the Crystal Tower? Their prophecies are inevitable, once spoken?”
“To the best of the elves’ knowledge, yes, they are, my Lord. I have examined what records I was able to acquire, and every prophecy they have issued for the past three thousand years appears to have been fulfilled precisely to the letter.”
King Zarik ran a weary hand through his gray hair, and sighed deeply. “I’ve had enough trouble reining in the expansionist faction as things stand, and now this. I have infrastructure to oversee, trade deals to broker, a kingdom to administer. I have no need for the ancient power of my forebears, and no time for personally carrying out assassination attempts against elven royalty on the far end of the continent, let alone dying in the process.”
“Indeed, my Lord.”
“And yet, I am seemingly bound by fate itself to do exactly that. There must be –”
A knock at the door.
“Yes, what is it?”
A clerk entered the room. “My Lord, Duke Vorias has come seeking an audience.”
“What does my idiot nephew want this time? Has the Khashaxan Ambassador ‘insulted’ him once again? Or has he perhaps devised some brilliant stratagem for besieging the human capitol to the south? No, I have no time for his hotheaded nonsense right now, tell him –” The Demon King paused, eyes widening, and stroked his beard thoughtfully. A smile slowly spread across his face.
“… Tell him I cannot see him today, for I have been taken ill.”
Duke Vorias stood by King Zarik’s bedside, eyes shining with barely-suppressed glee. “My Lord, please, stay calm. You mustn’t overexert yourself.”
“Over – overexert?” King Zarik coughed wretchedly. “You come to my sickbed to –” cough “– to inform me that you are usurping –” cough cough “– my throne, and you expect me –” cough “– to lie quietly and nod my –” cough “– nod my head?”
“My Lord, I would never dream of such a thing! Your protracted illness this past month has simply left you unable to attend to affairs of state, and though we all wish dearly for your speediest recovery, at present it shows no signs of improving. Thus, in accordance with our ancient laws, I have summoned the Circle of Peers for an emergency convocation, and we have determined that the time is right for me to take the throne as your successor, for the good of the kingdom.”
“My –” cough “– my successor? You are not my successor, you ungrateful wretch!” cough cough cough “My –” cough “– my daughter, Zirala!” cough “She is my rightful –” cough “– rightful heir!”
“I know that my lovely cousin is a clever and capable girl, and that you cherish her quite dearly, my Lord. I, for one, would be honored to serve our great kingdom under her leadership. However, there are many among the Peers who strongly favor tradition, and given that you have no direct male heir, their judgment was that I should be the one to succeed you upon the throne. I did my best to persuade them otherwise, but the decision was out of my hands. I simply wish to honor the will of the people, and lead this country in a way that will not besmirch our grand and noble lineage.”
“You –” cough “– you mustn’t do this!” cough “You fool, our kingdom –” cough “– our kingdom stands at a crossroads!” cough cough “You mustn’t upset the balance, not with –” cough “– not with the prophecy –” cough “– so close at –” cough cough cough
The Duke’s eyes narrowed. “Prophecy? What prophecy?”
The king, overtaken by another coughing fit, shook his head feebly.
“What prophecy, my Lord?”
“No, I –” cough “– it must not –” cough “– must not come to pass…” cough cough “I will not have –” cough “– new violence and –” cough “– and bloodshed, as my legacy…” cough cough
“What is the prophecy, old man?! Tell me!”
King Zarik, his strength exhausted, sank back into his bed, his sleep seeming troubled by unquiet dreams.
Duke Vorias began rifling through the haphazardly piled papers on the king’s bedside table, sending them scattering to the floor. Finding one that caught his eye, he yanked it out and read to himself:
“The king of demons shall return, and attempt to sacrifice the princess of elves to return to his full power. In her moment of need, a hero with a blade that shines as the sun will appear, to face the demon king to win her hand in marriage.”
“… and so, by the Fire Undying, I proclaim thee ruler over all demons, that all may know and pledge themselves in thy service…”
Vorias smiled at the crowds as the Flamekeeper placed the obsidian circlet upon his head, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He recalled the stories he had been told as a child, the books he had read, the tales of the great and terrible power of the Demon Kings of old. Cities in flames, armies of the ravening dead raised with a thought, magics to rival the gods themselves. One defeated hero, and one slaughtered princess, and it would all be his.
“… and as the Fire burns, so too shalt thou blaze forth to guide us all…”
He would begin preparations as soon as the coronation was over, and set out for the kingdom of elves at nightfall. The prophecy did not guarantee him victory, but by his own might and cleverness, he would seize the prize laid out before him.
“Now arise, King Vorias, Lord of All Demons, Emperor of Conquest.”
The world would soon tremble at his feet, for he would bend destiny to his will.