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Chapter 18 - Chapter 18-The Twilight of a Sovereign

The palace, usually so lively, seemed that night frozen in a strange torpor. Silence reigned, almost oppressive. Assad was pacing back and forth in his chambers, unable to find sleep.

The weight of what awaited him, still unofficial, already pressed against his chest. A dull, insidious restlessness gnawed at him.

Tired of the struggle against insomnia, he finally stepped outside. Perhaps a simple walk through the silent halls of the palace would calm the turmoil inside him. Barefoot, dressed in a long cotton tunic, he wandered the familiar corridors. Every stone, every tapestry, every arch seemed to whisper echoes of a glorious past.

Suddenly, he slowed down.

A faint light, barely perceptible, leaked from beneath the carved wooden door of his father's study. An unusual glow at this late hour.

Yet there was no sound.

Intrigued, Assad knocked gently.

— Father? he whispered.

No answer.

A sinking feeling clutched his chest. Slowly, he lowered the handle and pushed the door open.

What he saw froze his blood.

His father, the Sheikh, was lying on the ground, motionless. His face, usually full of strength and presence, was now an almost unnatural pale.

Without thinking, Assad rushed to his side.

— Father! Father! he called, gently shaking him.

Still no words. But a faint breath stirred his chest.

He was alive.

— Guards! Assad shouted. Quick! Call the royal physician, now!

Hurried footsteps echoed through the corridors. The guards rushed in, and a few minutes later, the palace doctor arrived in haste.

Hakim Idriss, a man whose face was marked by years but whose reputation was unquestioned, immediately knelt beside the Sheikh.

— Take him to his chambers, he ordered calmly.

The guards complied with care. Assad did not take his eyes off his father, a trembling hand resting on the edge of the stretcher.

An eternity seemed to pass.

Hakim Idriss, after a long examination—his pulse, his eyes, his heart—finally stood upright. His expression held no good omen.

He motioned for Assad to step aside.

— Tell me what's wrong with him, Assad asked, his throat tight.

The doctor took a slow breath, as if choosing his words carefully.

— My prince… your father suffers from cardiac amyloidosis.

Assad blinked.

— Amyloidosis? What is that?

— A rare disease. In his case, it manifests through the buildup of abnormal proteins in his heart muscle. These deposits interfere with proper heart function… The disease is slow, silent… but inevitable.

He paused, lowering his voice slightly.

— I've known for a year. But your father ordered me to remain silent. He wanted you to be crowned before the truth came out. He feared ambition, greed… instability.

The ground seemed to shift beneath Assad's feet. He grabbed a chair to steady himself.

— Is he going to die? he whispered.

— A few months… maybe less if his condition worsens. We can ease his pain, slow the progression… but there is no cure.

Assad closed his eyes, fighting back the tears welling up. His father. That unshakable rock. That unwavering guide.

— Is he conscious? he asked in a near whisper.

— He was earlier, faintly. You may go see him.

Without delay, Assad returned to his father.

The Sheikh lay in his bed. His features were strained, his complexion pale. But when he saw his son, his eyelids slowly lifted.

— My son… he murmured.

— Father… I'm here.

A barely perceptible smile appeared on the old man's lips.

— You must be ready… sooner than expected.

Assad nodded, unable to speak.

— The people will need you. A leader who is strong, just… Promise me you will guide them. Protect our land… our heritage.

— I promise you, Father, he replied, his voice trembling.

The Sheikh closed his eyes again, his face relaxing slightly.

The doctor stepped forward and laid a reassuring hand on the prince's shoulder.

— He must rest. Every moment of strength will be precious.

Assad reluctantly stepped back. But in his eyes now shone a certainty.

He understood everything. His father's insistence, the hurried lessons, the political counsel, the long days in the council chambers… Everything made sense now.

Back in his chambers, he sat for a long time on the edge of his bed, his gaze lost in the void.

He was no longer just an heir.

He was a king in the making.

And the night, silent and heavy, bore witness to the moment a kingdom's destiny had shifted.

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