The school hall was very quiet, like the calm before a storm. Hundreds of people were looking at the big holographic screen that covered the whole front wall. It showed an image of a mythical throne that looked cold and shiny, as if it was made from pieces of the night.
The throne was not just a chair of authority; it appeared to be breathing. It slowly inhaled and exhaled and sent shivers through the hallway, and the air felt heavy. As a result, there were students who did not even know they were holding their breath in.
Then, the presentation started as soon as the Priest entered.
They said only one Priest was in every one of those five kingdoms—a very high class individual. The fact that he was here meant this was serious business. Who would have imagined someone of his caliber would visit an academy of younglings? Koran said to himself:
"Is he aiming to convince us that he cares about us and that we're the future of kingdoms?"
Koran spun around and saw numerous journalists. The reason was obvious—just an illusion, and this sermon belonged to the First Kingdom, or even to all kingdoms, if one could say it this way.
Then, after a pause, the Priest spoke: "Today, we tell everyone that our beloved King Orestos has stepped down from his position, and according to tradition, his heir will be his eldest son, Lord Elios. The change of kings and the passing of generations is a good sign, not a bad omen. For this reason, I share this news today in a school because the new king will be a child, so to speak—he is only 15 years old, almost the same age as you. So, you are the future of the Five Kingdoms. Embrace it well."
Everyone clapped, then the Priest, who was mature for his years—he was just in his thirties—spoke up: "The Formative Contracts competition finishes at the end of tomorrow. Whether you win or lose, and lose once more."
Koran was stunned, as if he had heard these words once before.
"You must try again."
Koran abruptly stood up amidst the gathering.
No one knew why he did it, and maybe he did not know why he did it either. All he felt was a sharp feeling in his chest, as if something in him had been suddenly awakened.
However, the moment stretched beyond time allocated to it.
Eyes began to turn.Expressionless faces, some mocking, some bewildered, all directed at him. He seemed like a stranger among them, as if his standing was not merely a spontaneous act but a small scandal suspended in the air.
Koran realized he was awake, and cold sweat dripped down his neck.
What am I doing?Why…?
The iron chair creaked back slightly as he re-seated himself, but it was too late. The looks clung to him as if they were disembodied hands.
He could not bear to breathe in this heavy air.
He stood up, this time slowly, as if his heavy feet were punishment, and walked out of the hall without glancing back.
The crowd kept on cheering for the news coming from behind him.
"Long live the new heir… Long live the Five Kingdoms."
However, Koran did not hear the conclusion.
The echo of the throne had also taken root in his mind, distancing him, making him ask himself:
"That can't be.Why did he say those very words?"
"You're crazy,that's impossible."
"That's enough! I'm not crazy. I saw this, but his voice sounds different."
Koran walked at a fast pace as he made his way down the school corridor. His head was dropped somewhat, and his lips were twitching by themselves. He seemed to be talking quietly to someone next to him, someone who could only he could see.
– "Not. I do not wish to hear this once again."
He stood in silence, as if for an answer, and irritably shook his head.
–"That's it, I said I do not want to."
Onlookers who walked by glanced at him in confusion, but he did not pay any attention to it. He kept on arguing, his voice in an elevated tone, as if he had run out of patience.
Then Timo emerged from down the hallway. He froze, surprised to find him speaking to no one, and hastily approached him with anxious steps.
–"Koran. what's wrong?" he murmured softly, not wanting to humiliate his friend in front of others. "You were speaking as if you were talking to another person."
Koran shivered slightly at hearing his voice, then raised his head at him.
"I'm fine," he said coldly, like someone who wants to close the door right away. "Don't worry."
But the words came out unconvincing, and his face didn't match them. There was something broken in his gaze, something tense that avoided direct eye contact.
Timo could not believe it. He started talking, but then.
Koran screamed,his voice piercing the corridor:
–"I'm tired of talking to you! Understood?!"
Timo stood stock still.
What he said wasn't for him; that much was obvious by the face of Koran. He was looking at the empty space next to him, as if there was someone there after all.
The air in the hallway was thick for a moment as Timo just stared at his friend, not knowing how to process.
Timo froze. You could see his tension on his face as he just stared at his bud in awe.
–"Koran. to whom were you talking?"
Koran did not reply promptly. It was as if he needed time to come back to reality. His hand slowly moved to his head, and he pounded his fingers against his temples, as if to keep something raging in him under control.
–"Just a headache." he said in his tired voice, not having the courage to look at Timo. "Don't mind."
but in his mind, it wasn't still.
Instead, there was another voice, part of his mind, incessant:
"I don't think he can see you.I have to stop talking to you."
He looked down, as if those just-heard words were not strange to him, but familiar. too familiar to scare him more than anything.
Timo stood in front of him, expecting an expalantion. But Koran had none—just an absent expression and a headache that increased in intensity as he struggled to ignore it.
The street was busy as always, with cars moving quietly on the smooth roads, and big screens showing ads and news on every corner. The sunlight bounced off the tall glass buildings, making it look like the whole city was breathing slowly under the burden of progress.
In the midst of that visual din, an enormous billboard emerged above a plaza.
Images of the Five Kingdoms' flags flickered back and forth, and then the royal emblem appeared in the center, in bold lettering in gold:
"The Royal Festival is coming soon… The new heir will be shown to everyone."
Koran was transfixed in helpless awe, without being aware of it, his gaze stuck on the monitor. His heart pounded, as if this ad was made especially for him and not someone else.
Beside him, Timo raised his head and gazed at his friend with an affectionate smile:
–"Do you want us to go together on the day of the festival?"
They seemed okay, just something he considered for a moment, but they hit Koran more than he anticipated. He waited in silence for a moment, then slowly shook his head and turned his face away: "Okay."
His gaze drifted out of focus on the screen to the ground, but his thoughts remained concentrated. Something in him resisted that question,something tense, disturbed, as if just saying the word for heir had drawn upon an unopened wound… or an image he would not recollect.
Beyond the First Kingdom, in which towering buildings touch the heavens and busy streets never sleep, there was another world still. The Third Kingdom was highly developed, too, but in a Greek-kind of fashion. In all this, one could see it was a city for kings. In a large room whose curtains were swinging in the morning air, the door gently creaked open.
A maid entered, who was clothed in an elegant uniform, and she carried in a tiny tray bearing a mug of hot milk. She proceeded to the bed, upon which a small child was slumbering upon soft coverlets. Her face was serene, and her strawberry hair sprawled across the pillow, as if she was in a dream whose longevity exceeded hers. She bowed down and touched her shoulder softly, and then added in an overjoyed voice:
"Get up, Niva… wake up. Today's the day for the festival!"
She slowly raised her eyelids. She was very tired, and she said without being interested:
"Five more minutes, okay?"
The maid smiled.
"Queen Mira waits for you."
The curtains shook as someone said the Queen's name, and lighting coming in through the room appeared to be strengthened. Niva woke up at once:
"Looks like i won't have those five minutes."