The sky burned crimson, a fiery canvas smeared with the dying light of a fractured kingdom.

In the shadowed ruins of a once-glorious palace, a figure knelt — bloodied, breath ragged, heart heavy with secrets no one should carry alone. His eyes, sharp as a predator's, scanned the horizon where enemies marched like storm clouds, swallowing hope whole.

"Veer... my son," a voice cracked through the choking smoke, fragile as a dying ember. The voice was a whisper from a forgotten past, a promise forged in fire and betrayal.

The man's fingers clutched a pendant — the lost emblem of a crown stolen by treachery. His blood ran cold as footsteps echoed nearer. The kingdom's fate, his bloodline, depended on a single choice: flee into darkness or rise and reclaim what was stolen.

Behind him, the ashes whispered of fallen kings, shattered alliances, and a love doomed to burn brighter than any crown.

Tonight, the shadows would decide the future.

And the phantom of a lost royalty stirred.