Prologue- The Silence and the Storm
The air in the Royal Palace of Swenders was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, stale ambition, and rot. It was a beautiful rot, of course—a tapestry of silk and gold that shimmered in the late afternoon sun, concealing the moral decay beneath.
The Demon King did not need fire and weapons to conquer; he needed lies. And in the heart of this gilded cage, lies were as common as breathing. He was everywhere, a formless shadow feeding on the pettiness of the nobility, the fear of the common folk, and the King’s willful blindness. He saw the Grand Ball approaching—the final, dazzling gathering of the court—as his harvest. The palace was ripe, and the fruit of division was ready to fall into his hand.
He settled his consciousness near the Throne Room, listening to the desperate, petty whispers of the step-sisters and the Baroness, their envy and greed forming a delicious, potent anchor for his power. They were so predictable, so easily manipulated. The whole court was.
“They will destroy themselves,” the Demon King hissed, his voice a cold current beneath the palace foundations. “The Prince dreams of an alliance, a political fix to a spiritual sickness. Fool. He does not know that the only thing stronger than a lie is a greater fear.”
His ultimate goal was simple: to take the Crown, not by force, but by proving to the kingdom that Truth was irrelevant and that Unity was a myth.
Yet, deep within the walls of a forgotten manor on the city’s outskirts, lay a dull, sapphire-blue object that hummed with a different kind of power—the power of raw, undeniable truth.
The Demon King, complacent in his victory, dismissed the low hum as a momentary disturbance. He did not notice the frightened servant girl, Evelyne, whose quiet resilience was about to collide with that mysterious Button. He did not see the principled Prince Arin, who was desperately seeking a truth he couldn’t find in any law book.
He saw only shadows. He had not accounted for the fire. And the wish was already made.
