His Majesty's

It started with the sullying of a sacred treaty 3700 years ago, when Hell fostered a secret child. Illyvah, he had named himself, The One; The Faultless; The Traitor Son of Heiver the Grand.

The first war was a staggering win, history wrote.

The second one stabbed him clean and dead.

The ruler had collapsed, and with him died the secrets he had kept to himself for ages. The last torch flickered to death, unpassed, and the orphaned land now wanders, lost.

Illyvah had entrusted five people of hidden identities to inherit his sacred land; nobody knew who. He had sealed thirteen weapons of mass destruction twenty centuries ago; nobody knew where. And then he was robbed of his life; and nobody knew by whom.

Six centuries ago, Illyvah had prophesied the fall of his own land. Why did it still stand?

Because his true killer had commited a foolish, unredeemable mistake. Illyvah had played them from his grave.