Slave of Fate

"Hey, hey, hey! How did you do that? Can you do it again?" Ray asked, his voice full of disbelief.

Before Rudra could respond, ray continued, "How did you jump without saying anything? I was worried sick about you and I even called the guards..."

Suddenly, the door opened, and a burst of light flooded the room, making it as bright as day. A figure stood in front of the light, his face hard to see, but his presence was powerful.

"Prince, did you press the emergency button?" the figure asked with a smooth, warm voice, completely out of place with his intimidating appearance.

Rudra's heart skipped a beat. "Emergency button?" he thought, unsure of what to make of the situation. The figure's voice and calm demeanor only added to the confusion

His voice had only been smooth for that boy, Ray.

Rudra glanced toward the door as the figure entered the room. The figure moved, and as their eyes met, Rudra flinched. In that split second, he felt the cold pressure of a blade against his neck. The same smooth voice from earlier spoke again, but this time, it was different—colder. Each word seemed to slice at his throat, sharp and deliberate.

"Who?" the figure asked.

Rudra's response came in the same cold, emotionless tone, as if the words were ice.

Rudra

He didn't need an explanation. Rudra could feel it—the tension in the air was palpable, and he knew something would happen if he didn't answer. His heart raced, but his expression remained unchanged, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"I am just…" Rudra answered, his words hanging in the silence.

"Just what?" the figure's voice grew even colder, the pressure mounting with each word. But before the conversation could spiral further, a warm voice broke through from behind them.

"Valenor."

The figure's hands trembled at the sound of the name, and with a swift motion, the blade was pulled away from Rudra's neck. The tension in the room didn't dissipate, but the immediate danger had passed.

Ray spoke again, his voice cracking, the strain of emotion evident in his words. "He is not harmful."

"Valenor," he said softly, his voice full of weight. "As the name suggests, a balance of nobility—representing both peace and authority."

The figure's voice wavered, and tears began to flow from his eyes. "You... talked." His voice cracked as he continued, his words barely audible. "To me," he whispered, "I will get the king."

Rudra stood motionless, his expression unchanged, unable to fully comprehend the emotional intensity that hung in the air. He could feel it, the raw emotion in the figure's voice, but it was as though the emotions had no grip on him. The room felt heavy with unspoken words, but Rudra could only focus on the weight of the situation, unable to respond in kind.

For a brief moment, Rudra glanced at Ray, and looked back at the figure called Valenor—but the figure was nowhere to be seen.

Rudra muttered in his usual flat tone, "People just disappear, don't they?"

He turned to Ray. "Can you assist me? I understand why he placed the blade at my neck. But the emotional display—it's irrelevant."

Before Ray could respond, the room was suddenly filled with people. In the blink of an eye, the atmosphere shifted.

The guards, dressed in black uniforms with swords hanging at their wrists, stood in silence, their gaze fixed on Rudra. Their eyes, cold and calculating, silently warned him.

"If he moves without hesitation... he will be cut down."

Amidst the tension, a silence swept over the room. Every whisper, every motion came to a halt as the king entered.

The king's presence filled the space, demanding respect. His towering figure was framed by the golden light spilling from the ornate chandeliers above. His dark cape billowed behind him, embroidered with silver and crimson threads that caught the light like woven fire.

Each plate of the king's armor was etched with intricate designs, telling silent stories of battles fought and victories earned. His face, carved in an expression of calm authority, reflected the composure of a ruler. But that calm facade didn't last.

Ray's first word was simple yet heavy with emotion.

"Father."

He paused, the single word echoing in the silent chamber.

The king, the figure of unshakable might and grandeur, faltered. The calm and almighty expression on his face melted into something raw and unguarded. His eyes shimmered, betraying the depth of his feelings—happiness, longing, and a profound relief.

In that moment, he was no longer the ruler of a kingdom. He was simply a father, overwhelmed by the sheer joy of hearing his child's voice.

The king's vision blurred with tears as he took a trembling step forward, his hands outstretched toward the small figure before him. Each tear that fell carried a weight of love and regret that words could never convey.

"Come here, my child," he whispered, his voice trembling, breaking under the weight of his emotions.

Ray hesitated, staring up at the towering figure now humbled before him. For a moment, he seemed unsure, but then, without a word, he stepped forward and wrapped his small arms around the king.

The king embraced him tightly, his towering presence softened by the vulnerability of the moment. After a few precious moments, the king gently released him, wiping his tear-streaked face.

Ray looked up and spoke again.

The words he uttered next left the entire room in stunned silence.

Even Rudra, the one who seemed untouched by emotions, couldn't help but take notice.

The words Ray spoke shattered the stillness in the room.

"I request a royal adoption for him," he said with a calm finality that left everyone in stunned silence.

The king stood frozen, his regal composure faltering for the briefest of moments. His calm exterior masked the storm of emotions brewing beneath. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of years of suppressed pain

"What was it the royal adaption "

And with it Rudra journey changes again where was he leading rudra in a hell or heaven