In a dimly lit hall, five people were gathered, their expressions grim. They all shared the same features: slightly elongated ears that grew so close to their heads they seemed to merge with them, pale grayish skin with faint traces of bioluminescence that matched the soft glow of the ceiling’s gemstones, and large, pupil-less eyes, gleaming and adapted to the darkness of their surroundings. Though they varied in height, their necks and hands were longer than usual, and their fingers were adorned with four-centimeter-long black nails, perfect for climbing and maneuvering through ruins or difficult environments.

  —How is the Glisthar extraction progressing? —asked a man with blue-green eyes, his gaze severe and his expression weary. His tone was calm but carried the weight of authority and the burden of the last survivors of his race, who relied on him to change their bleak future.

  —Not well —replied a sturdy man, shaking his head with concern. His broad build set him apart from his kind, who were generally lean. His eyes, however, were the most common color among them: a striking neon blue. He was the head of the mines, responsible for extracting gemstones like Glisthar from the earth—gems vital to the kingdom’s survival, as without them, the land would not be fertile enough for crops.

  —We had to dip into the reserves to meet last month’s needs —added another of the attendees, a scholarly-looking man who calmly reviewed the documents in his hands —Thanks to the foresight of previous years, we won’t face immediate problems, but in the long term… I fear things could turn chaotic.

  His final words cast a heavy silence over the room. They reminded everyone present of the cruelty and horror of a time they wished to leave behind. The king knew that his friend—one of the few who had been with him from the beginning—was right. However, no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t find a way out of this predicament.

  He maintained his composure despite how dire the situation seemed. He was the king, and he had to instill confidence in those who had entrusted their futures to him. After a moment of contemplation, he turned his gaze to another attendee.

  —General, has the exploration yielded any results?

  —I regret to bring you bad news, my lord —replied the man, clad in armor made of a strange material that seemed to blend with the gray of his skin —We found no new veins, and the hunt was no better. We only caught four mamrags. Their numbers haven’t increased since the last hunt, and we didn’t want to wipe them out completely.

  He paused briefly before continuing, this time with firm resolve in his voice.

  —We had a skirmish with a group of barbarians, but we only drove them away. If food starts to run short… we know where to find them.

  The attendees grimaced bitterly, but no one rejected his words. They were all pragmatic. The weight of thousands of lives rested on their shoulders. They could not afford to dismiss any option, no matter how grotesque, if it meant saving their people.

  Besides, cannibalism was nothing new to them.

  —My lord.

  The melodic voice of the only woman present drew everyone’s attention. Though her eyes, like most of her kind, shone in a vibrant neon blue, her imposing presence and natural elegance set her apart with ease. Her long hair cascaded in soft waves, accentuating the slenderness of her figure and the abnormal length of her neck. A single glance was enough to know that this hypnotic beauty belonged to royalty.

  —There is an interesting rumor spreading among some citizens. At first, I refrained from mentioning it because I cannot guarantee its truth —she said, her gaze sweeping across her companions, those who shared in the hardships of their people —However, after hearing all of you, I believe we should at least investigate it.

  The others exchanged confused glances. The woman before them would not bring up a mere rumor unless it carried some weight. Her eyes, once dulled by the harsh reality of their dying world, now held a noticeable unease. Even the king, who had remained composed throughout the meeting, showed a flicker of interest. He knew each person in the room well and trusted them completely. If any of them proposed something—no matter how absurd it seemed—it meant there was at least a sliver of a chance for their survival. Like a lifeline thrown in the middle of a storm, a small flame of hope flickered in his heart.

  —Tell us what it is about, and together we will determine the credibility of this rumor you dare to bring before us —the ruler urged, his voice barely masking his anxiety as he clung to the possibility that the woman’s next words could hold the key to saving his people.

  —Do not despair, Your Majesty —she responded calmly, soothing the tension in the air —I have already summoned the person who started the rumor. It is best if you hear it directly from her.

  The king nodded, and the room fell into a long silence. Each person became lost in their own thoughts.

  Several minutes later, hurried yet soft footsteps echoed in the hallway. Then, a firm *knock knock* resounded at the door.

  —Enter —the king ordered.

  The door opened, and a soldier stepped inside, escorting a frail-looking woman dressed in humble clothing. She was a Lythren whose appearance depended on the eye of the beholder: to some, a beauty who inspired the urge to protect her; to others, an insignificant peasant.

  —I have completed my misión —the soldier reported firmly.

  He, along with the oldest warriors, had earned the right to speak with a degree of familiarity before these five figures of power. However, true to his military roots, he still lowered his head slightly in a gesture of respect.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  The woman, on the other hand, looked nervous. Quickly, she knelt and bowed her head. She had shared her nightmares in hopes of easing the fear rooted in her heart, but what she had thought was merely a way to unburden herself had now brought her before the king. She could only blame life for being so cruel to her.

  —Thank you for your efforts. You may leave —the king said.

  —With your permission.

  The soldier nodded at the monarch’s words and, before leaving, briefly turned to the elegant woman at the table.

  —My lady —he expressed respectfully, bowing his head slightly before disappearing through the door.

  The king paid no mind to this; each leader had soldiers loyal only to them, though, out of respect for rank, they also acknowledged the authority of the others.

  —There’s no need to be nervous —the ruler said, attempting to calm the woman, who looked on the verge of tears. Then, with a slight motion of his hand, he gestured toward the investigator —This beautiful woman here says you have something interesting to tell us.

  However, his words did little to ease the woman’s nervousness. The soldier who had brought her had explained the reason she was there, but no matter how hard she tried to understand what she had done to offend these five, she found no answer. In the end, unable to grasp it, she surrendered to her fate and decided to recount everything exactly as she remembered it. As she spoke, a thought crossed her mind—perhaps dying would be the best option, perhaps that way, she could finally be free of this torment.

  ???

  Several minutes later, the same soldier returned. The king, like the others, was still processing the newly revealed information, so it was the investigator who spoke:

  —Take her away, feed her, and let her rest. Then, give her enough money to last two months and make sure she returns home safely.

  —As you command, my lady.

  The soldier stepped forward and helped the woman to her feet. She, having remained kneeling all this time, lifted her face with a mixture of confusion and surprise. She looked at the investigator, who offered her a kind smile, and upon realizing that none of the others objected to her words, the disbelief on her face shifted into a glimmer of relief.

  —Thank you, my lady —she murmured, bowing her head before leaving with the soldier. As she exited, she couldn’t help but wonder if, after all, her luck was beginning to change.

  When the door closed, the first to break the silence was the king. His voice, severe and contemplative, resonated through the room:

  —What do you think?

  —It’s absurd, completely unrealistic —the general said, shaking his head.

  The advisor nodded grimly.

  —I agree with Khamard. I don’t even know why we bothered having this conversation —He declared with a look of distaste. As he spoke, he made a quick calculation of the kingdom’s available resources. He frowned and continued —We would have to use absolutely everything we have just to attempt the stupidity this woman suggests.

  —There are records of similar cases in the past, so migration would be possible if we handle things properly. Besides, given our current situation, we should at least conside-

  The investigator’s words were abruptly cut off by the advisor, who, irritated by what he saw as a ridiculous idea, raised his voice:

  —You’re saying we should throw the future of our race into the garbage for the delusions of a madwoman and the urban legends of an old book? Have you lost your mind? Or… do you think I don’t know exactly which record you’re talking about?

  The investigator met his gaze without wavering.

  —We all know what awaits us in the future. Tell me, do you prefer for our race to perish along with this world? To end up devouring each other like beasts? Or would you rather give them a future far from these bleak shadows, where they no longer have to wonder if they’ll have food on their plate—or if they will be the food on the plate? Or have you failed to notice that it’s happening again?”

  The advisor slammed his fist against the table.

  —Do you think I’m not working to change that? What the hell do you think I’ve been doing all this time? These are MY people! I’ve been here since this place was nothing but ruins—not like some 'opportunistic barbarian' like you, who—

  —That’s enough.

  It was the king who put an end to the argument before things could spiral out of control. Then, he turned his attention to the only person who had remained silent so far.

  —Give us your opinion, Drath.

  —If it’s truly possible, then I also believe we should try.

  —Placing our hopes in something as absurd as going to another world? Consuming the resources we fought so hard to obtain, condemning our people? It’s nothing but a foolish decision. Tell me, then—what was the point of all our efforts until now? Am I the only one here with a brain?

  To the advisor, the decision being made at this moment was even more ridiculous than believing a god would come to save them.

  However, Drath, an experienced miner, was not swayed by his words and continued expressing his opinion:

  —Orin, the lady is right. We’ve run out of time. The mines are depleting, the animals as well, and even if that weren’t the case, we have to remember that this world is dying.

  The king nodded at the miner’s words. Even if they managed to stabilize a source of food, in a few decades—or perhaps a century if they were lucky—all of their people would perish along with the world. That was a fate they could not change.

  But when death was the only future awaiting his race, this possibility, no matter how absurd, seemed like a good idea. And he had already made his decision.

  Hoarding the gems would only prolong their lives a little longer—but it was not the salvation he sought for his people.

  —Athelia Dunesoul, do you believe you can turn fantasy into reality and lead our people to this new world?

  Silence fell over the room. The voting had begun. It wasn’t necessary, but it was the king’s custom to do it this way.

  —I will put in all my effort, even if it means using my soul as fuel —the woman declared.

  The king nodded and continued.

  —Drath Nartkara, can you extract the last veins in less time?

  —Yes, Your Majesty. You can count on me.

  The miner’s words carried the weight of a lifetime spent in the mines.

  —Orin Valcroft, what is your stance?

  Against it, Your Majesty. This isn’t a child’s game where foolish decisions have no consequences.

  —Khamard Ashlar, what is your stance?

  The general hesitated for a moment. At that instant, the burden of responsibility fell on him. But then he shook his head. He wasn’t good at this. He was a warrior—the kingdom’s sword. He had sworn loyalty to the king, and as such, there was only one thing to do. He stood, placed a hand over his chest, and said:

  —I will carry out Your Majesty’s will.

  With that, only the king remained. His decision was the most important. Whether this was done or not, everything depended on his command.

  After a moment of silence, the king finally declared:

  —I, Mael Fawick, order everyone to prepare for the ritual.

  —Hah! Ha, ha, ha!

  The advisor, caring little for decorum toward those present—or even the king himself—rose from his seat and walked toward the exit, laughing with scorn and bitterness.

  —You’re all insane! I won’t be a part of this. You’ve just killed us all.

  With those final words, the door slammed shut.

  —With Your Majesty’s permission —the remaining three said in unison before leaving the hall.

  Once the room was empty, the king sank into his seat, massaging his temples. His body felt heavy. His mind, exhausted. Only one thought circled in his head:

  "Ruling is difficult"