820 | Prince Evan Betrayed

As Prince Evan and Advisor Diesel discuss the secret vacation, the young royal makes a choice that will haunt him forever. Five thousand years ago, before anyone called him “wise” or “Your Majesty,” Evan was just a young prince who trusted the wrong person.

He pays for it for a lifetime.

The King’s head advisor corners him in a side hallway, where the stone walls swallow sound, and no guards stand watch.

“Hey, Prince Evan,” Advisor Diesel says, smiling like they’re already best friends. “A group of us wants to make some changes around here. Real changes. More fairness. More opportunity. More voices included. Will you help us?”

Evan frowns.

“I have no idea what half of that means,” he admits. “But my father trusts you, so… I trust you. How can I help?”

Diesel’s smile stretches wider.

“We’re building a new system,” he says, lowering his voice. “One that recognizes people are naturally equal. Right now, everyone is ranked—by job, by bloodline, by who acts ‘moral’ in public. That’s wrong. Imagine the kingdom as a big green lawn.”

“A lawn?” Evan repeats.

“Each blade of grass is a person,” Diesel explains. “All working together. All part of the same field. For it to look beautiful, every blade has to be the same height. Same water. Same fertilizer. If some blades shoot up taller, they ruin the look. They make everyone else feel small. Those tall blades must be trimmed down to match the rest. Then everything is equal.”

Evan’s stomach tightens.

“So who holds the shears?” he asks. “Who does the cutting?”

“The advisors,” Diesel answers smoothly. “And the King, of course. A few wise, virtuous, powerful people must stand above the lawn to shape it. For now, that includes you. But someday, if you’re not meant to be king anymore, you’ll be just another blade. We’ll keep you trimmed to the same low level as everyone else. Equal.”

Evan’s scowl deepens.

“Enough with the weird grass metaphors,” he says. “Just say what you want.”

Diesel leans in.

“The King is old,” he says softly. “Slipping. He needs a long rest to recover, but he refuses to step away from the throne. That’s where you come in.

“Tell your parents you want a secret three-month vacation. Just the three of you. A hidden mountain retreat. No court, no advisors, no guards. You sneak out at night. We’ll pretend you’re still in quarantine from that little virus that went around. The people will think you’re safely locked inside the palace. No one will know you’re gone. And whatever you do—don’t tell your parents this was my idea.”

He shrugs like it’s nothing.

“It’s only three months. Loyal advisors will handle everything. We’ll just be… trimming the lawn while you rest. What could go wrong?”

Evan’s gut twists.

“Something about this feels deceptive,” he says.

Diesel steps closer, voice low and smooth.

“Your parents are going to praise you for this,” he says. “They’ll think you planned a surprise escape just for them. While they’re gone, we finally get to make life fairer for everyone. And when they come back, they’ll be grateful. Maybe grateful enough to raise your allowance.”

A secret only he and Diesel share.

A vacation with his parents—no servants, no endless meetings, no guards frozen at every doorway.

Evan’s heartbeat speeds up.

“A vacation with all three of us,” he says slowly. “No boring ceremonies. No people lining up to bow for hours…” He lets out a shaky laugh. “That sounds like a fantasy.”

“Not if we make it real,” Diesel says.

Time alone with his parents is the one thing Evan never gets.

“I can keep a secret,” he says quietly. “Especially for that.”

Diesel’s eyes gleam.

“Picture it, Your Highness,” he says. “You return from the mountains. You walk down the village street between your mother and father, heads high. The villagers cheer: ‘Hooray, Prince Evan! Hooray, Prince Evan!’ They see you as the one who gave them a better life.”

The image slams into Evan—his parents relaxed and laughing, the crowd roaring, his father’s hand heavy and warm on his shoulder. For once, he isn’t trailing behind.

He’s the reason they smile.

“I can see it,” he whispers. “I like making them happy. If this trip does that, then… I’ll do it. I’ll treat it like a surprise party, not some trick.” He searches Diesel’s face. “This isn’t really deceptive, right?”

Diesel presses a hand to his chest, the picture of wounded innocence.

“Of course not, Your Highness,” he says. “It’s a gift. For them. For the kingdom. And, honestly, for you.”

Evan wants to believe him.

So he does.

Chapter 1.1: Prince Evan Convinces the King and Queen to Leave the Kingdom

While Prince Evan convinces the King and Queen to leave the kingdom, an undeniable sense of unease fills the royal chambers. The King and Queen hate the idea the second they hear it.

The word secret lodges in the Queen’s mind like a splinter. Every time Evan mentions “no advisors” or “no guards,” the King feels something heavy coil in his stomach.

“It doesn’t feel right,” the Queen whispers in bed one night. “Why now? Why suddenly?”

“My intuition says no,” the King admits. “But look at him. He hasn’t begged for anything in years.”

Evan begs anyway.

For days.

He follows them through echoing stone halls, corners them before the council, waits outside their chamber doors until servants pretend not to see him.

“Please,” he says. “Just three months. Just us. I promise I’ll behave. I’ll do everything right. I’ll be good forever, I swear.”

One afternoon, in the middle of the throne room, he drops to his knees.

“For all eternity,” he says, voice cracking. “Please.”

Guards stare straight ahead. Servants study the floor.

The King and Queen share one last, long look—their shared inner warning screaming louder than ever.

This is wrong.

Finally, the King exhales.

“Very well,” he says, voice tired. “We’ll go.”

The Queen squeezes Evan’s shoulder.

Her hand trembles.

They both push away the soft, insistent voice inside that whispers: This is a mistake.

That night, dressed as ordinary villagers, the royal family slips out a side gate. Royal colors vanish under plain cloaks. Hooves thud softly on the dirt road as they ride toward the mountains.

The moon hangs above them like a single, watching eye.

“Three months,” Diesel has promised. “Three months of rest. Let your advisors handle everything. You’ve earned it.”

Trusting the people now in charge, the King and Queen leave their kingdom behind.

Back at the castle, Advisor Diesel stands on a balcony and watches their final torchlight disappear into the dark.

Then he smiles.

Chapter 2: Advisor Diesel Convinces the Council to Change the Rules

Once the royal family departs, Advisor Diesel convinces the council to change the rules and seize control of the kingdom. As soon as the royal family is gone, Diesel summons the King’s advisors.

They gather in a shadowed council chamber lit by flickering candles. The King’s throne looms above them, empty—its dark silhouette stretching down the wall like a warning no one hears.

Diesel steps forward.

“This is our moment,” he says quietly. “With the King away, we control the kingdom. For three months, every order, every law, every change runs through us. The people will obey—so long as they believe it all comes from him.”

A low murmur ripples around the table.

“We’re supposed to be the wise ones,” Diesel continues. “Yet all the real power sits with one old man who fears change. That ends now. It’s time for something new. More voices in charge. Our voices.”

One advisor shifts uneasily.

“What exactly are you proposing?” he asks.

“That we stop pretending we’re background characters,” Diesel says. “We’ve watched the King cling to outdated rules and rigid morals, terrified of anything different. He calls it virtue. I call it fear.”

The word lands with a heavy thud.

“We live in the real world,” Diesel goes on. “We know what people actually want. No more faking it. No more hiding who we are just to look ‘respectable.’ We’re done being judged by old standards that never fit us anyway.”

A few advisors nod—some cautiously, some with visible relief.

“We choose how we live,” Diesel says. “We don’t apologize for it. And if we’re going to shape this kingdom, we shape it honestly—by our rules.”

Voices rise.

“We want our choices!”

“We want our freedom!”

Diesel raises one hand.

“We only have three months,” he reminds them. “So we make big changes fast. Peaceful on the surface—protests, speeches, new policies. We call it progress.”

Another advisor frowns.

“And if people get hurt?” he asks.

Diesel’s jaw tightens for a heartbeat. Then his smile returns.

“Any change brings discomfort,” he says. “Some will be angry. Some will feel betrayed. But we say it’s for everyone’s good. A better future always requires sacrifice. There are many people in this kingdom. Not all of them will like what we do.”

Uneasy glances. Hungry grins.

“We are the ones who see clearly,” Diesel presses. “The King’s so-called virtues only slow everything down. If he refuses to move forward, we move without him. We stir things up. We create enough fear, tension, and chaos to crack the old system. Only then can we build something new.”

“Chaos,” someone whispers, “to clear the way.”

“Exactly,” Diesel says.

For one heartbeat, silence.

Then, hands slam the table.

“We want change!”

“Tear down what holds us back!”

Diesel watches them, eyes burning.

“Remember,” he adds softly, “even we aren’t completely safe. If this goes too far, some of us may pay the price along with the people we claim to help.”

The cheering stutters.

“Wait,” one advisor says. “You mean we might—”

Diesel laughs lightly.

“Relax,” he says. “I’m just seeing who’s awake. We’re not here to throw ourselves away. We’re here to finally take what we deserve.”

They laugh with him.

But at the edge of the room, something cold listens.

And smiles.

Chapter 2.1: Advisor Diesel Suspends the Laws and Guard Rev Objects

Chaos is set in motion when Advisor Diesel suspends the laws, and Guard Rev objects to the dangerous new experiment. A few days later, with the royal family deep in the mountains, the entire kingdom floods into the main square.

Children perch on rooftops. Merchants shut their stalls. Soldiers line the edges, hands on the hilts of sheathed swords.

Advisor Diesel steps onto a raised platform before the palace gates. The King’s banner snaps overhead in the wind.

“People of the kingdom!” Diesel calls, arms spread. “In the name of the King, I bring news of a bold new experiment.”

The crowd quiets.

“Effective immediately,” Diesel announces, “all laws are suspended for the next three months.”

Gasps explode through the square.

“This is a test,” he continues smoothly. “A chance to prove what we’ve always believed about you—that you are wise, disciplined, and good at heart. That you don’t need old, restrictive rules to do what’s right. The King has realized it is time to trust you. You are no longer just peasants. You are citizens. Equal. Free.”

The word free races through the crowd like fire through dry grass.

“Without these limits,” Diesel says, “you can finally show who you truly are. Follow your instincts. Chase what you’ve only dreamed of. Live as you’ve never been allowed to live before.”

A teen near the front whispers, “No rules? At all?”

Another replies, half-thrilled, half-afraid, “We can do anything.”

Someone at the back yells, “We can act like wild animals!”

Laughter bursts out—rough, nervous, a little too loud.

Guard Rev stands near the platform. He steps closer, speaking under his breath.

“Advisor Diesel,” he murmurs, “have you really thought this through? If you remove every law, what stops thieves? Or worse? Our soldiers won’t be allowed to arrest anyone. People will know there’s no punishment coming. Riots will break out.”

Diesel doesn’t flinch.

“Life is a dream,” he says—louder now. “A brief, wild dream meant to be enjoyed. Why keep your darker side locked away forever? Why pretend it isn’t there? For these three months, there will be no punishment. No chains. If you’ve been caged, now is your chance to break the bars.”

Murmurs swell.

“Let it out!” someone shouts.

“Free the shadows!” another yells.

“Free the parts we hide!” a third voice throws in.

Soon, the square is roaring.

“Let the shadows out!”

“Let the demons out!”

“We’ll dance with danger!”

Sweat slides down Rev’s spine.

Diesel raises a hand. The roar dies.

“There is more,” he says.

The air tightens.

“The King is also reducing the army,” Diesel announces.

The square freezes.

“As a sign of strength,” Diesel explains, “we will no longer waste resources on constant war and endless defense. We expect our enemies to see our courage and follow our example. We will keep only a handful of palace guards for the ceremony. That is enough.”

Rev can’t stay quiet.

“Advisor Diesel,” he says louder, “are you sure these are the King’s orders? I know he’s aging, but this—” he gestures to the shouting crowd “—this is madness. You’re leaving our borders open. If anyone wants to attack, we’re making it easy.”

Diesel’s gaze slices toward him.

“The King trusts his people,” Diesel replies. “He trusts you, Guard Rev. He believes that if he gives you freedom, you’ll use it wisely. Things may feel unstable at first, but we must give progress a chance. Together, you’ll treat each other as equals. Diverse, different, but equal. “ Of course…” His voice softens. “Someone must still lead.” The advisors can’t be exactly like everyone else, can they?”

The crowd turns.

“Wait!” someone shouts. “You said we’re all equal! You can’t suddenly put yourself above us!”

“Yeah!” another yells. “Rules for us, freedom for you? That’s not equal!”

A tomato whips through the air and explodes against Diesel’s white tunic.

The square erupts in ugly laughter.

“Why did you wait so long?” the thrower screams. “If you cared, you’d have done this years ago! We’ve been suffering while you hesitated!”

For a heartbeat, Diesel’s calm mask cracks.

Then it’s back.

He wipes tomato pulp from his chest with two fingers.

“Guard,” he says, voice suddenly cold, “arrest that man.”

Rev freezes.

Every eye in the square swings to him.

“I can’t, sir,” he says. “He hasn’t broken any laws. You suspended them.”

More rotten food flies.

Rev raises his shield, steps in front of Diesel, and forces him back toward the palace doors.

“I tried to warn you,” Rev mutters.

“Who could’ve predicted this?” Diesel snaps. “Just because there are no laws doesn’t give peasants permission to be animals.”

But his eyes shine.

Like someone watching a fire they secretly lit.

Far away, in a quiet mountain valley, Prince Evan laughs at a joke his father makes—unaware that back home, the first crack is splitting his kingdom’s foundation.

Chapter 2.2: Guard Rev Warns Advisor Diesel About the Riots

As the situation worsens, Guard Rev warns Advisor Diesel about the riots tearing the village apart. Two months later, the kingdom is rotting from the inside.

Counselor Diesel finds Rev near the barracks.

“Update me,” Diesel says lightly. “How is our grand experiment in diversity, equity, and inclusion progressing?”

Rev’s grip tightens on his spear.

“Food is scarce,” he says. “Villagers are starting to protest. Anxiety and despair are boiling over. They’re looking for someone to blame for the shortages. Not themselves—for skipping work and raiding fields. Someone hidden. Someone powerful.”

He leans in.

“You’d better be careful,” Rev says. “If they can’t find a safe target, they’ll pick a dangerous one. You. They’re full of hatred with nowhere to put it.”

Diesel waves a hand.

“Spread a rumor,” he says. “Tell them the sun is to blame for the bad harvests. That will keep them occupied.”

Rev stares.

“Chaos is everywhere,” he says. “Crimes go unpunished, and each time someone gets away with it, the village gets bolder. Meaner. More violent.”

Anger and fear twist through the town until it feels like the streets themselves are boiling.

Some villagers try to hold meetings, desperate for answers. Every time, one old insult or buried grudge detonates the room.

People walk in hoping for solutions.

They leave bruised and bleeding—if they leave at all.

Rev corners Diesel outside the council chamber.

“People are dying in town halls,” he says. “Friends become enemies overnight. Peace is gone—replaced with suspicion and pure rage. Any time two or three people stand together, a fight breaks out. Everyone is so on edge that they’d rather strike first than risk being caught off guard and killed. Every death sparks more revenge. Families attack families. It doesn’t stop. We need to start arresting someone. Anyone.”

Diesel doesn’t blink.

“Why arrest people,” he asks calmly, “for feeling what they feel? We created this crisis on purpose. Now we use it.”

Rev’s stomach drops.

For the first time, he sees it clearly.

This isn’t an accident.

This is the plan.

Chapter 2.3: The Kingdom Descends into Violence and Anarchy

With no rules to hold the people back, the kingdom descends into violence and anarchy—the village splinters.

Roaming mobs stalk the streets, pointing at random faces and deciding who the “enemy” is today. A straw hut on the edge of town is no longer safe. People who hide get dragged out—or burned out.

Neighbors who once traded bread and gossip now kick in each other’s doors.

Revenge becomes a game with no winners.

Anger surges like a riptide, pulling everyone under. Anarchy mushrooms through the kingdom as more bodies fall—and still the soldiers stand frozen.

No one is arrested.

Rev finds Diesel again.

“The soldiers’ silence is fueling this,” Rev insists. “They see there’s no law, so they let their own anger loose. Why doesn’t the King stop this? I want to speak to him myself.”

Diesel’s eyes sharpen.

“You must trust your King,” he says softly. “He is still quarantined. Sick. Isolated. You follow his orders. Blindly.”

Rev looks away.

“My instincts say this is wrong,” he admits. “Something stinks. My conscience screams we’re being lied to. But there’s another part of me that…”

He swallows.

“Another part of me watches the fires and thinks this violence is some kind of twisted freedom.”

He hates the thought.

But it’s there.

Soon, riots explode in every corner of the kingdom.

Over half the peasants die.

The guards and soldiers stay back, convinced every order—and every lack of order—comes directly from the King.

The castles stand protected behind stone walls and iron gates.

Two-thirds of the villagers’ homes do not.

Smoke stains the sky.

Everyone blames everyone else.

No one knows who truly lit the first spark.

Chapter 2.4: Advisor Diesel Reinstates the Laws to Hide the Destruction

Facing complete ruin, Advisor Diesel reinstates the laws to hide the destruction from the outside world. When the ashes settle, and the screams fade to whispers, Diesel steps onto a cracked stone podium.

The survivors look up at him with hollow eyes.

“In the name of the King,” he announces, “all laws return.”

A groan ripples through the crowd.

“The King is disgusted by what you’ve done,” Diesel goes on. “Your behavior does not reflect the values of this great kingdom. Other lands may excuse this kind of chaos. We do not. Action must be taken now.”

The square erupts.

“We don’t want laws!” someone yells.

“You can’t bring them back!” another shouts. “No law gives you that power!”

Diesel talks right over them.

“With harm increasing,” he says smoothly, “we must protect our reputation. From now on, everyone must work together to ensure no one outside this kingdom learns the full truth. The King decrees that major tragedies go unreported. The public will remain peacefully ignorant. As long as they believe everything is fine, peace survives.”

He pauses.

“Anyone who dares spread the real story—the newest truth—will be branded a dangerous troublemaker and silenced. Quickly.”

A chilling agreement rolls through what’s left of the crowd.

“Silence the tattlers!” they shout.

“Muzzle the trumpet-blowers!”

Rev leans close.

“This only makes things worse,” he says. “Call it darkness, corruption—whatever you want—it’s spreading. Out into the fields. Into the castle. Food is running short. Even palace feasts are down to five courses.”

Diesel turns back to the people.

“The King’s counselors are hard at work,” he lies. “They’re studying this situation from every angle. Lawlessness is more complicated than old, strict rules. We must be careful. We’re consulting judges and sages, carrying out serious research on this experiment we called fluid-feudal freedom.”

The phrase tastes like ash in Rev’s mouth.

“In a few years,” Diesel continues, “the castle will share our detailed findings. If we discover any genuine crimes, we’ll respond to the fullest extent possible. You have our word.”

A voice shouts from the back.

“What about the enemy army that just marched through our southern border? You defunded the army. Our borders are open. How will you stop them now?”

Rev whispers urgently, “We can’t find new soldiers. We can’t drag anyone into service anymore. The only ones who show up want benefits we can’t promise. The young don’t want to die for a King they never see. The old are too wise to believe empty promises. We’re left with misfits and the elderly.”

Diesel lifts his hands like a priest.

“We’ll welcome these marching strangers,” he tells the crowd, “with open arms. We’ll give them homes—your homes. We’ll feed them—with your food. Everyone must sacrifice for the travelers from the South. As for our troops, I called them back to duty, but they responded with… unpleasant language. They refuse to obey.”

Fear and fury ripple through the villagers.

No one steps forward with a real solution.

Not yet.

Chapter 2.5: Prince Evan Returns to Find the Kingdom Destroyed

After a long journey in the dark, Prince Evan returns to find the kingdom destroyed and his people suffering. Weeks later, under a moonless sky, the royal family finally returns.

Prince Evan rides beside his parents, his shoulders aching from the journey. In his head, he’s replayed this moment a thousand times: the main road, banners flying, villagers cheering, music echoing off stone.

Instead, a lone rider meets them at the edge of the forest.

“The royal procession is canceled,” the messenger says. “You must return by the back road. Use the secret entrance. No one can see you come home.”

Now, as the hidden gate grinds open, Evan can’t shake the weight in his stomach.

“I smell smoke,” he mutters.

The King looks worse—old, exhausted, strangely quiet. The Queen stares at the dark walls like she expects them to confess.

Evan rubs his eyes. His whole body throbs.

I’ll deal with it in the morning, he tells himself. Whatever it is.

He drops his pack in his room and collapses on the bed.

“I’m too tired to think,” he whispers. “I don’t know what’s going on… and I don’t care. Not tonight.”

His conscience twitches.

Look out the window.

He doesn’t.

He drags the covers over his head.

Somewhere in the distance, a scream seems to slice through the night.

Then another.

Just my imagination, he tells himself.

Sleep doesn’t come.

Nightmares do.

He dreams of hollow-eyed shadows in advisor robes, villagers tearing each other apart, monsters feeding on fear. He sees figures with shining blades cutting everyone down to the same height—living or dead—until the kingdom’s light spirals into a black hole.

He jolts awake at dawn, heart pounding, shirt soaked.

He staggers to the window and flings the shutters open.

The sight knocks the air from his lungs.

The village is wrecked.

Charred house frames. Smoke clinging to rooftops. Streets were dark. People stumbling like ghosts.

Danger. Danger. Run.

He can’t move.

Pieces of memory collide—Diesel’s plan, the secret trip, the “experiment,” the riots he only imagined.

He understands.

Diesel’s scheme. The three-month vacation. The way I begged them to leave. The way I lied.

He played a part.

Guilt slams into him. For a moment, he almost climbs onto the window ledge, ready to hurl himself into the ruins below.

Somehow, he doesn’t.

The screams outside grow louder.

Evan thinks of his parents in their chamber.

Or not.

His hands shake as he straps on his armor and buckles his sword.

Last night, a strange prickling feeling pushed him to sleep in his secret room at the far end of the castle instead of his royal chamber.

That one choice saves his life.

From here, everything keeps spiraling—parents murdered, revenge taken, secrets buried, and a deal with his own conscience that follows Evan five thousand years into the future.

But every revelation he uncovers later starts here:

One advisor.

One secret plan.

One prince who says yes when every warning in his chest begs him to say no.

Chapter 2.6: Prince Evan Announces the Enemy Army Retreated

Trying to find a silver lining amid the devastation, Prince Evan announces the enemy army retreated due to the fires. Days later, someone in the crowd calls out, “What about the invaders from the South?”

Evan almost laughs.

“They’re gone,” he says. “Their scouts saw our fires and chaos and turned back. They didn’t want to march into a kingdom already tearing itself apart.”

A cheer rises.

“Hooray for the fires!” someone cries. “They scared our enemies away!”

Evan doesn’t join.

Chapter 5: Advisor Diesel Blames the Riots on Inner Demons

Attempting to escape execution, Advisor Diesel blames the riots on inner demons rather than his own terrible leadership. Later, in the main square, Evan faces what’s left of the crowd.

“One advisor survives,” he tells them. “The head of the council. He pays someone to sleep in his bed and burns his double in his place.”

Diesel steps forward, looking worn—but alive.

“This isn’t my fault,” he says quickly. “Our plan was never about destruction. We were furious with the King for rejecting change, yes. But we wanted a peaceful shift. More freedom. More chances for ordinary people to build something of their own. We imagined celebrations, not funerals. Someone twisted our plan. Someone else did this. They should be blamed, not us.”

The people mutter.

Evan’s face gives nothing away.

“What changed?” he asks.

Diesel sighs, like he’s the one carrying the kingdom’s grief.

“Time,” he says. “We only had three months. Not enough for careful, peaceful reform. We didn’t see ourselves as traitors, but we knew that’s what we’d be called if we failed. We had no idea how the King would react. We were afraid he’d undo everything and slam the doors on progress.

“And then… someone stirred up chaos. Violent riots broke out instead of peaceful protests. No one formed committees. No one brought us requests for better laws. We never got the chance to draft new rules for fairness and opportunity. It was like something else woke up. Like an army of monsters crawled out of the cracks. Our own fear must have pulled them here. Blame them.”

He gestures vaguely.

“Blame the demons,” he says.

“Arrest the monsters!” voices roar. “Make them pay!”

Rev steps up beside Evan.

“When we suspended every law,” Rev says, “we opened the door. Whatever you call it—demons, darkness, shadow selves—it took control of people’s hearts. The villagers welcomed it like a twisted savior. They stopped thinking about tomorrow. They burned the shops they depended on. They turned on each other. Ordinary people became strangers to themselves.”

Evan nods slowly.

“Where did they think they’d buy food,” he asks, “after destroying every store?”

Rev shakes his head.

“They weren’t thinking,” he says. “The shops were looted. The only things left were work boots nobody wanted. People walked away with stolen goods like trophies, proud of wrecking their neighbors’ work.”

Evan turns to the guards.

“Why didn’t you arrest these ‘demons’?” he demands. “Why didn’t you lock them up before all this?”

A guard shrugs.

“No one admitted to being a demon,” he says. “They all claimed to be mostly peaceful. Truth is, almost everyone wore that mask for a while. During the riots, they weren’t themselves. They were monsters, then… they weren’t. We could cut people open looking for the darkness, but they’d die before we found anything. And honestly, Your Majesty—we all have that shadow somewhere. Including you.”

The crowd shivers.

“Don’t cut out our shadows!” someone cries. “We’ll face them ourselves!”

Evan lifts a hand.

“No cutting,” he says. “Give people time to cast out their own dark thoughts. Their addictions. Their anger. We’ll guide them. Not butcher them.”

Diesel folds his arms.

“I knew the returning crowd would tear the royal family apart,” he says. “I warned them. That’s why they snuck in through the secret door. I saved your life, Your Majesty. You should be grateful.”

Some in the crowd actually cheer.

“Praise to Advisor Diesel!” they shout. “The King’s savior!”

Diesel’s eyes glitter.

“After that,” he says, “I realized I was the one in danger. If the King lived until morning, he’d execute every advisor, restore the old laws, and use his guards to crush the chaos. My life was over if he saw dawn. My fear twisted into something ugly. I stopped fighting it. I watched myself send the guards on a fake emergency. I watched myself lock the royal doors and set them on fire. I watched myself kill the King and Queen and call it ‘self-defense.’”

He looks up, almost calm.

“I told myself they would’ve tortured me for treason until I died,” he says. “I felt like I had only one option: fight back. Eliminate the threat. Them.”

Silence swallows the square.

Every eye swings to Evan.

The new King stares at the man who destroys his family and shatters his kingdom—and still somehow expects to be thanked.

Deep inside, Evan’s conscience whispers, waiting for his response.

“Traitor!” someone screams. “Crucify him! Crucify him for killing the King and Queen!”

The chant spreads.

“Crucify him! Crucify him!”

A guard points straight at Diesel.

“I see the demon right now, Your Majesty,” he says. “He’s not even trying to hide.”

The crowd surges.

“Cut out his shadow side!” they roar. “Cut it out!”

Chapter 5.1: The Demon Inside Advisor Diesel Confesses to the Crowd

The truth is finally laid bare when the demon inside Advisor Diesel confesses to the crowd. Diesel’s head tips back.

His eyes roll, then snap forward—darker.

A voice that isn’t entirely his spills out.

“Fine,” it says, almost amused. “I’ll talk.”

The square goes dead quiet.

“I’m the one inside him,” the voice continues. “I hijack this undisciplined body. I get bored sitting in the dark, so I take over. I see myself as a bull leading the disappointed little people. I’m hungry for blood. I feast on chaos. Their deaths are on me, and I won’t let anyone else take the credit.”

A chill crawls up Evan’s spine.

“It takes time to bend a mind,” the shadow-voice goes on. “I have whispered to this advisor for years. I feed his worries, his stress, his fear. I twist his good intentions. I teach him how to lie to himself. I make him believe he’s saving the people while he tears them apart.”

Diesel’s face contorts, then smooths into a horrible smile.

“I use his stubbornness,” the thing says. “I tell him the old rules are unfair. I tell him disobedience is heroic. I say rebellion is pure and holy as long as it’s ‘for the people.’ I tell him that obedience is the real sin. Once he believes that, he’ll do anything I want.”

The crowd stares, horrified.

Chapter 5.2: Prince Evan Argues with the Demon Shadow

Stepping up to protect his people, Prince Evan argues with the demon shadow about guilt and responsibility. Evan steps forward.

“You hide in corners,” he tells the shadow, voice sharp. “You feed on fear and call it courage. You’re just a shapeless stain—no mind of your own, no real strength. You latch onto people who matter and hollow them out. Most of the world doesn’t even believe you exist.”

He doesn’t raise his voice.

He doesn’t need to.

“You’re heartless,” Evan says. “You carry no light, no spirit, nothing pure. You crawl and hiss and whisper. You kill and hide, hoping no one traces the damage back to you.”

The shadow laughs.

“Would you deny,” it asks, “that you have a shadow too? How is your ‘self-defense’ any different from mine? You went on a killing spree, too, remember? You exploded in rage. You killed your enemies before they killed you. Just like me.”

The words land like stones.

The crowd’s eyes shift to Evan.

“You killed my parents,” Evan says slowly. “You tear my kingdom apart. You drag everyone down and call it justice. You’re a spiral into nothing. You have no friends in high places. You’re rot. I’m done letting you write this story.”

“Slay the serpent!” a woman screams. “Before it poisons us again!”

“Kill the venom!” others cry.

The shadow doesn’t flinch.

“Yes,” it says calmly. “I beat my mortal enemies before they could destroy me. That’s obvious. But you didn’t stop with the guilty, King. You killed the advisors. Then you killed their families—people who never sat in a council chamber. You wanted more blood. More revenge. You almost got me, too… but I slipped away. So tell me—whose shadow is worse? Whatever you say about me is true of the darkness inside you as well.”

A murmur rolls over the crowd.

“The prince… had innocent people killed?” someone whispers.

Evan’s stomach drops.

He waits for the shadow to reveal everything—how he begged his parents to leave, how none of this happens without him.

It doesn’t.

Relief hits him so hard he almost loses his balance.

His worst secret stays buried.

For now.

The demon-voice turns to the villagers.

“You think you’re better than me?” it demands. “You carry your own locked-up rage, your own frustration and fear. You stuff it down and tell yourselves, ‘There’s nothing I can do. I’ll wait. Maybe someone else will fix it.’ Then, when it’s too much, you explode. You burn houses. You kill people who never hurt you. You steal what isn’t yours and call it ‘justice.’

“You say it’s self-defense. You’re just as guilty. You let me use your anger like fuel. I light it, you do the work. Then I slip back inside while you live with the guilt. You trade one set of caged feelings for another—old wounds swapped for new shame. You call it hopeless. You sit and wait for a savior.”

“We are hopeless!” someone shouts back. “We can’t fix this! We need a savior to take these feelings away!”

Voices rise in agreement.

“We can’t fix our darkness! We need help!”

Chapter 6: Prince Evan Chains Advisor Diesel as a Warning

To ensure the village never forgets their collective darkness, Prince Evan chains Advisor Diesel as a warning. Evan raises his hand.

The noise falls.

“Chain him,” he says quietly. “But don’t kill him. Not yet.”

The crowd goes still.

“Bind him to a post in the town square,” Evan orders. “Let him eat the rotten food people throw. Let him sleep in the cold and feel the ground he helped burn. Let him stand where everyone can see him, day after day, year after year. He won’t just be punished. He’ll be a mirror.”

He turns, meeting the villagers’ eyes.

“When you look at him,” Evan says, “remember this: the real enemy isn’t just out there. It’s inside. In all of us. Let him remind you to throw out your shadows before they take you over the way they took him.”

No one cheers.

No one argues.

They chained Diesel to a post in the square.

Winters pass. Summers burn.

At first, people scream at him, hurling scraps and curses.

Later, they walk by and listen when his cracked voice carries across the stones.

He talks about real strength. About handling dark feelings before they erupt. He warns them how easy it is to let anger grab the wheel. He tells anyone who listens that unresolved hurt always comes back sharper.

Years pass.

His chains rust and fall away.

He stays.

Chapter 6.1: Prince Evan Tells the People to Starve Their Dark Thoughts

Seeking to heal the broken society, Prince Evan tells the people to starve their dark thoughts before they cause more harm. One day, Evan stands before the people again.

“We learn something the hardest way possible,” he says. “Every one of us has a shadow. Built from fear, hurt and anger. That’s where this whole nightmare starts.”

The crowd shifts.

“We can’t pretend we’re perfect,” Evan continues. “We’ll keep disappointing ourselves. We’ll regret what we’ve done. But there’s one thing we can do: stop feeding the beast.”

“Starve the dark forces!” someone shouts. “No more fear, no more hate, no more rage!”

Voices echo it.

“Starve the dark forces!”

Evan nods.

“Pay attention,” he says. “Watch your own thoughts. Catch the lies you tell yourself before they run you. The enemy isn’t just out on a battlefield. It’s the whisper in your head pushing you to hurt someone else. Don’t feed it with grudges and revenge. Don’t feed it with cruelty or empty pleasures.

“Don’t invite it in as a friend,” he adds. “Not with addiction, not with obsession, not with ‘harmless’ cruelty. Remind each other who the real enemy is. When the darkness shows up pretending to help you, remember: it wants your destruction, not your freedom.”

He looks up.

“Ask for light,” he says. “Ask for wisdom that doesn’t come from fear. Let it burn through your shadows. We’re meant to be more than walking wounds. We’re meant to heal each other’s scars.”

Not everyone understands.

But some do.

Chapter 6.2: Guard Rev Confesses to Starting Fires

The heavy burden of guilt forces a shocking revelation when Guard Rev confesses to starting fires during the riots. Rev steps forward, armor dented, eyes tired.

“I need to say something,” he announces.

The square quiets.

“The riots,” Rev says. “They start with me.”

Gasps.

“I’m told to help organize a peaceful protest,” he explains. “No real instructions., ‘Make it happen.’ I’m already burning inside—twenty years of standing like a statue, pretending I don’t have feelings, watching people walk past like I’m furniture. I’m not allowed to talk or smile. I feel like a ghost in armor.

“So when the laws disappear,” he continues, “something in me snaps. I tell a villager to stir people up. Not calmly. Not wisely. … stir them. I think, ‘Fine. If no one listens when we stand still, they’ll listen when everything burns.’ On my way back to the castle, I set a few barns on fire. To ‘wake people up.’”

He stares at his hands.

“I tell myself violence is the only way to get change,” he says. “The advisors act shocked when riots break out. But they don’t look disappointed. They act and hum and watch it spread. People come begging me for help, and I ignore them. I stand there like the statue they trained me to be, blaming ‘the King’ for not sending orders… even though my gut knows that story is wrong.”

Rev’s voice cracks.

“So punish me,” he says. “Do whatever you want. I deserve it.”

Evan studies him.

“You were hurt,” Evan says. “You let that hurt decide what you did. Did you ever ask for help before you exploded?”

“No,” Rev admits. “I liked the anger. It felt powerful. I called it noble. I let it grow until it ruled me. Then I let it loose on everyone else.

“But I also warned you,” he adds quietly. “When you came home. I kept the crowds from tearing you apart. I told you to use the secret entrance.”

The crowd mutters.

“Right,” Evan says slowly. “You’re the one who saves us from marching straight into a mob. How did you even know we were on the road? Almost no one did. The advisors wanted us dead. They wouldn’t send help. So who did?”

Rev glances toward the back.

“A chimney sweep,” he says. “A thin, ash-covered kid who wouldn’t stop bugging me. He kept saying the King was in danger, that you’d be disguised as peasants. I almost ignored him. My conscience told me not to. This time, I listened.”

“Praise to the chimney sweep who saved the King!” someone shouts.

Laughter and applause roll through the square.

Rev nods.

“Imagine,” he says, “if all the guards stopped pretending to be statues and actually helped. If instead of being silent weapons, we worked with other kingdoms instead of fighting them.”

“No more statues!” people yell. “Put the guards to work!”

Evan smiles faintly.

“I agree,” he says.

Chapter 6.3: A Villager Confesses to Murdering a Merchant

Following Rev's lead, a quiet villager confesses to murdering a merchant when the laws were suspended. A quiet man steps forward, shaking.

“I need to confess, too,” he says. “I’m the one who starts the riots.”

All eyes swing to him.

“When the laws vanish,” he says, “I see my chance. There’s a merchant I hate. He lies about me, says I owe him money I don’t. The judges side with him because he’s rich and knows who to bribe. My kids end up working for him like slaves, never allowed to learn, never allowed to leave.

“I try to do everything right. I follow the rules. I beg for mercy. Nothing changes. So when they tell us there are no laws anymore, I decide to kill him. I convince myself I’m saving the village from his greed.”

“That’s a tragic story,” Evan says. “If it’s true.”

“It is,” someone calls. “We all know that man. He was cruel. He used his money to crush people.”

“Forgive him!” another cries. “He got rid of a monster!”

The villager flinches.

“He is horrible,” the man agrees. “But that doesn’t justify murder. I let my anger drive me. I kill him. Then I feel… something else—a hunger. I think about killing his family, too. I plant fake evidence so someone else gets blamed. My family packs up and leaves town. We hide while everything burns. I tell myself the shadow in me will be satisfied after one act. I’m wrong. It grows. It feeds on everything that comes next.”

The crowd goes quiet.

“I’m guilty,” he says. “I should’ve found another way. If I’m somehow forgiven, let me help the people I hurt.”

“Forgive him!” villagers shout. “We’re no better! We did the same!”

Rev steps in again.

“No,” he says. “This is on me, too. I spread the fire. I knew who killed that merchant and his family. I knew the truth and stayed silent because I wanted the system to break. I thought destruction was the only way to build something new.”

Evan looks between them.

“My council dug into your story,” he tells the villager. “The merchant really did lie. He really did trap your children. The town saw it. They felt powerless. I don’t excuse murder. But I understand why you snapped. Your children will run his business now—and they’ll share the profits with the poorest. That’s the justice we can manage today.”

He looks out over the crowd.

“As for you,” he says, nodding to the villager and Rev, “and everyone else—you’re forgiven. Not because you’re innocent. Because none of you is worse than I am.”

The square hums with shock.

“You’ll join an envoy,” Evan adds. “You’ll travel to other kingdoms. You’ll tell this story—every ugly part. You’ll teach them how to live differently. Virtuously. Before they repeat what we just survived.”

Chapter 7: Prince Evan Confesses the Royal Family's Mistakes

Facing his own complicity, Prince Evan confesses the royal family's mistakes and their desire to escape their duties. Later, Maiden Evelyn steps forward.

“I never told anyone this,” she says. “I overheard the King and Queen talking about their ‘secret vacation.’ They’re tired. They want three months of not caring. They use the prince as an excuse.”

Evan takes a breath.

“I need to confess something about my parents,” he tells the people. “They’re not perfect victims. They’re human. They want to escape, just like the rest of us. They ignore their instincts and take three months of ‘I don’t know, and I don’t care.’ They trust their advisors and leave them in charge. They let their own shadows lead for a while.

“Dressed as commoners,” he continues, “we ride into the mountains at night. My parents drink too much. They indulge in everything they’ve spent their lives preaching against. The King cheats. The Queen, angry and drunk, cheats too. They don’t plan it. They … slip. They mess up. And they die before they can fix it.”

He doesn’t share every detail.

He doesn’t have to.

The message lands: power doesn’t erase weakness. It just hides it better.

Chapter 7.1: King Evan Rebuilds the Kingdom but Suffers from Guilt

Over the next decades, King Evan rebuilds the kingdom but suffers from guilt that ruins his health. Years pass.

With new advisors—chosen for character, not flattery—Evan rebuilds. The kingdom shifts from conquest to cooperation. Where soldiers once marched to destroy, they now travel to help build. Roads. Farms. Canals. Houses. Trade replaces war.

Prosperity creeps back.

Evan earns the title he once only imagined: wise King.

And yet…

At night, his body never forgets.

A sickness from that old mountain trip twists his stomach. Food rots in his gut like old guilt. Pain keeps him awake, a physical echo of everything he did and didn’t do.

He lets it.

He treats the burning as his warning bell—a reminder never to let his shadow drive again.

He dies an old man, loved by many.

Haunted by more.

Chapter 7.2: Evan Recalls His Past Life as a King Five Thousand Years Later

In a modern setting, Evan recalls his past life as a king five thousand years later while talking to his father. Different world. Different house.

Same soul.

Evan is sixteen when the memories start.

“Dad,” he says over dinner, “I think I remember a past life. I was a king—a good one. Wise. People loved me.”

His dad raises an eyebrow.

“Of course,” he says dryly. “Why remember being a peasant when you can remember being royalty?”

“I know it sounds clichéd,” Evan says. “But it feels real. I bring peace to all the kingdoms around mine. I end wars. I create trade and cooperation.”

“Very noble, Your Majesty,” Dad replies. “Now, can you nobly take out the trash and mow the lawn? Some of the grass out there thinks it’s better than the rest. Time to bring it down to size.”

The phrase sends an icy shiver through Evan.

A week later, more memories hit.

“I remember earlier,” he tells his dad. “Before I was a great king. The kingdom’s in ruins. Riots. Houses burned. My parents and the advisors are dead. I’m alone with a broken kingdom and nobody to guide me. Somehow, I fix it. I rebuild.”

Dad leans back.

“So your memories are running in reverse,” he says. “Like binge-watching a show backward. Maybe you’ll get to the very start and figure out what made you who you are. It might help with that future presidential campaign. Now—homework done? Laundry away?”

Weeks pass.

“I remember being a prince,” Evan says one night. “The advisors kill my parents. I lose it. My guards and I hunt them down. We kill them. Then I ordered their families killed, too. They don’t start the rebellion. I want everyone connected to it wiped out. I don’t want anyone left who can tell the truth about what really happened.”

Dad’s face softens.

“Maybe,” he says, “you were trying to stop endless cycles of revenge. Cut it off at the source. Doesn’t make it right. But it sounds… human.”

“I don’t want the next episode,” Evan mutters. “Can I cancel this subscription?”

“That’s not how it works,” Dad says. “But weirdly, this gives me hope. Maybe great kings start as messed-up kids who make terrible choices and spend their lives making up for it.”

Chapter 8: Evan Tells His Dad About the Betrayal

The painful memories sharpen as Evan tells his dad about the betrayal that destroyed his kingdom. Months go by.

Finally, the worst memory surfaces.

“It’s all my fault,” Evan says quietly. “The advisors don’t just betray my parents out of nowhere. They come to me first. They tell me there are tall ‘blades of grass’ in the kingdom who think they’re better than everyone else. They say we have to ‘cut them down’ so everyone feels equal. They promise fairness, inclusion and a better life for the villagers. They say my parents are too old-fashioned to allow real change.

“They tell me all they need is three months in charge,” he whispers. “If I can convince my parents to leave. They say everything will be better when we get back. I believe them. I lie to my parents. I beg them to take a secret vacation—just for us. I hide what the advisors plan. None of this happens without me.”

“You were quick to accept the title of ‘great king,’” Dad says gently. “Now you’re slow to accept your part in the ruin that came first. Funny how that works.”

“I feel guilty now,” Evan says. “For something I did as someone else, five thousand years ago. I’m different now. I’d never make that choice again. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Good deeds matter,” Dad says. “So does honest regret. The question is what you do with both.”

Time passes.

“Some souls never come back,” Evan says one afternoon. “People who died in those riots still refuse to return to… whatever you want to call it. Soul School. They’re stuck. Some still want revenge. Some are just afraid. They don’t trust leaders. Or kings. Or anyone in charge. Part of that is on me.”

“That would explain a lot about the world,” Dad says. “Plenty of people walking around who don’t trust anyone in power.”

“How am I supposed to help them?” Evan asks. “Post an apology online? ‘Dear ancient peasants: sorry I lied to my parents and got half of you killed?”

“We can punch up the wording,” Dad says. “Maybe add a fake email for reparations.”

They both laugh.

Barely.

Chapter 9: Evan Posts an Apology Online and Causes Chaos at School

Driven by ancient regrets, Evan posts an apology online and causes chaos at school when his classmates react. Evan does it anyway.

He posts a short version of the story online from a throwaway account. He leaves out the worst details, but admits this much: “Five thousand years ago, I was a selfish prince who lied to his parents. It caused riots. Later, I became a decent king but never confessed. I’m sorry.”

Within a day, hundreds of emails slam into the inbox.

“Looks like you hit a nerve,” Dad says, checking that the real windows and doors are still intact. “Please tell me that’s a dummy address.”

In political science class, it gets worse.

Evan starts quietly apologizing to classmates he recognizes from those old memories. Most think he’s joking. Or insane.

A few don’t.

Those few talk.

Soon, kids are standing up, shouting about class-action lawsuits for ancient damages. Someone waves a picture of an old sword and calls it proof. Others point at random classmates and accuse them of crimes from five thousand years ago.

One girl gets called an alien from Mars.

“I’m from Honduras,” she protests.

No one listens.

Books start flying.

Evan does what any terrified rabbit does.

He bolts.

By the time the principal storms in, he gets nailed in the chest with a science textbook.

He roars—a sound that shuts everyone up.

“No one here,” the principal says, “is five thousand years old. No one is legally guilty of anything that happened that long ago. End of discussion.”

Not quite the end.

Evan and the six biggest boys wind up mowing the front lawn. Everyone else picks up trash.

“He needed free landscapers,” Dad says later. “What better way to make everyone equal than put them all on yard duty?”

Evan changes tactics.

He tells Rev—the classmate who reminds him of Guard Rev—that he’s been “testing a story idea” about reincarnation and guilt.

“Those kids,” Rev says, “were already full of resentment. They just needed a target. You gave them one. They would’ve exploded on someone eventually.”

“Would you rather call me Prince Evan or King Evan?” Evan jokes weakly.

“Let’s stick with ‘Your Majesty’ for now,” Rev shoots back.

Chapter 9.1: Evan Receives an Email from Maiden Evelyn

The past reaches out to the present when Evan receives an email from Maiden Evelyn confirming his memories. Among the flood of emails, one message stands out.

A girl writes:

“I remember too. I was Maiden Evelyn. I served in the palace. I knew the prince better than anyone. We were friends. We hid in a secret bedroom at the far end of the castle because princes weren’t supposed to befriend girls like me. No one else knew about that room.”

Evan freezes.

He never told anyone about that room.

“I’m tempted to believe you,” he types back, “because of the hidden room. How much are you asking for in reparations?”

She replies:

“None. I’m not innocent. I helped start it. Before the chief advisor goes to you, he comes to me first. I’m the one who wants to change the system so we can actually be together. I talk about fairness and equality and new rules for people like us. I push. Hard. I don’t want anyone dead. But I do want the old system gone. I help him plan.

“And I have a secret talent: I can project thoughts. I can slip ideas into people’s minds and make them think they’re their own. I use it on you. I use it on the advisors. I tell myself it’s for love. I lie to myself. A lot.”

Evan stares at the screen.

He remembers the war inside his head—a warning voice smothered by another urging him to be “brave” and rebel.

“I remember a mental tug-of-war,” he writes back. “A warning that gets drowned out by a voice telling me, ‘Be brave, stand up, rebel, don’t be a coward.’ Later, that warning tells me, ‘I told you so’ when everything falls apart. Was that you?”

“Partly,” she answers. “I push. I project. I drown out your conscience when it tries to stop you from betraying your parents. I also push the advisors—showing them flattering visions of themselves being rewarded for radical change. I believe love and fairness justify any trick. I’m wrong.”

“You had power,” he types. “And you used it for yourself.”

“Yes,” she writes. “And I pay for it. Hard. My parents died in the riots because I helped make them happen. The King tries to hire them as palace healers and inventors, but they choose to serve the villages instead. That choice costs them their lives. I carry that for lifetimes.”

She tells him more.

How she cuts her hair.

How she becomes the chimney sweep.

How she uses her mind to push one guard—Rev—to seek out the disguised royal family.

“So you’re the one who saves me,” Evan writes. “Again.”

“I’m also the one who helps destroy your first life,” she replies. “Both are true.”

They trade messages for hours.

About guilt.

About waiting.

About five thousand years of silence.

“Why didn’t you come find me sooner?” Evan asks.

“Same reason you didn’t come find me,” she writes. “I was waiting for you to tell the truth first. Maybe some things have to be healed here, in real time, face to face. Not just… out there.”

Evan leans back, staring at the screen.

There are still a thousand questions.

A thousand grudges.

A thousand shadows, living in a thousand people across a thousand lives.

He doesn’t know how to fix all of it.

But he knows this:

He isn’t hiding anymore.

And somewhere, in ways he can’t see yet, that changes everything.

Chapter Synopsis:

Prince Evan reflects on a past life from five thousand years ago when he was tricked by Advisor Diesel into helping orchestrate a secret three-month royal vacation. In the royal family's absence, Diesel and the council suspended all laws, plunging the kingdom into violent anarchy, destroying the village, and resulting in the murder of Evan's parents. Decades later, as a rebuilding king burdened by guilt, Evan executed justice, chained Diesel, and urged his people to starve their inner shadows. In the present day, after recalling these memories and posting an online apology, Evan reconnects with Maiden Evelyn, who reveals how her mind-bending powers contributed to the ancient betrayal and redemption.

Core Themes & Laws:

The devastating consequences of naive trust, deception, and shirking parental or leadership responsibilities.

The eruption of inner shadow, rage, and destructive behavior when external laws and social structures are removed.

The heavy, lingering burden of karmic guilt across lifetimes and the necessity of confronting and starving dark thoughts rather than letting them rule.

Key Entities Featured in this Document:

Prince Evan / King Evan: A royal heir who was manipulated into betraying his parents, later rebuilding his kingdom as a wise king and carrying deep karmic guilt into modern times.

Advisor Diesel: The manipulative head advisor who orchestrated the suspension of laws, seized control, murdered the King and Queen, and unleashed chaos.

Guard Rev: A loyal palace guard who initially cracked during the lawless period and set fires before confessing and helping restore order.

Maiden Evelyn: A former palace resident and secret friend of Evan who possessed mind-projecting powers and later atoned by helping save the royal family.

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