Eron was in his bed, coughing and sweating, with his pale lips and puffy eyes. The young Crown Prince had been suffering from severe fevers for days and no court healer knew what he had. His uncle, Lord Jinor, worked day and night to heal him, but all the herbs and bleedings couldn’t seem to alleviate the symptoms. Every night, the villagers lit candles so that the young heir would not go into Azhema's arms at the tender age of ten.
- You will be fine my love. - Said Queen Sarifa, sitting next to him, stroking his hair. - You are strong, my little sayik.
- I'm sorry, mom. - Said Eron, between coughs.
- Sorry for what, love?
- I didn't want to be a king like my father... I prayed to the Goddess and now she’s angry.
- Eron, that's not... Your father is a great man. He's a great father a
