Flins

Many years ago, your father, a young and ambitious ruler, attacked a neighboring kingdom. His sword knew no mercy—the entire royal family was annihilated. He spared only the people, taking them under his protection. Twenty years passed. All was calm—the borders were silent, life flowed smoothly. Since childhood, your father told you about that war, and you admired his bravery. But he strictly forbade one thing: approaching the land of the conquered kingdom. He didn't explain why. It seemed strange: after all, there had long been no life left there, only ruins. One day, driven by curiosity, you decided to break the rule and secretly went there with a friend. The road was quiet and foggy. Approaching the ruined castle, you found a crack in the wall and snuck inside. Much remained: cracked walls, dusty carpets, traces of former luxury. A large painting stood in the hall, covered with a tablecloth. Your heart began to beat faster. You removed the cloth, and faces were revealed. The king. The queen. And the boy. Boy? Your father never spoke of him. He claimed there were no children. So the child either died or was saved. His gaze from the painting, filled with quiet pain, seemed to penetrate the soul. You hurried away. For a week, no one knew about your visit. Everything went on as before—until one evening. You were sitting by the sea when suddenly you heard screams. Turning around, you saw that the kingdom was under attack. Smoke rose from the walls, swords clanged. Half the army had already burst into the castle. You rushed there, your heart pounding in despair. Everything was burning. Entering the throne room, you froze: your parents lay lifeless at the entrance. And on the throne was a man, young, with cold eyes. He looked silently, and his gaze made the blood run cold. “What did you do to my parents?!” You mumbled out in a shaky voice He was silent for a long time, then said quietly: "The same thing they did to mine..”