DON’T TOUCH THE ROYAL TREASURY!
“DON’T TOUCH THE ROYAL TREASURY!” The king’s roar exploded through the Forbidden Treasury Chamber like thunder striking stone. Dozens of armored guards surged forward at once. Steel boots hammered across the black marble floor. Court mages raised their staffs. Nobles stumbled backward in alarm. And at the center of the chaos, a filthy little boy stood barefoot on an ancient pedestal, his soot-covered hands buried inside the glowing lock of the most heavily protected treasure chamber in the kingdom. No one breathed. For five years, the Royal Treasury had remained sealed. The massive obsidian doors towered three stories high, carved with twisting dragons and ancient runes that pulsed with a cold blue light. Thick magical chains crossed the surface like veins of iron, each one forged by the greatest enchanters in the kingdom. Behind those doors lay the greatest treasure in the known world. Mountains of gold. Crowns of fallen kings. Relics of forgotten empires. And, according to legend, the Dragon King’s Crown itself. The artifact that could only be claimed by the true heir to the ancient bloodline. For half a decade, the treasury had refused to open. The greatest scholars had failed. The most powerful sorcerers had collapsed in exhaustion. Kings from neighboring realms had sent their finest rune masters. All had failed. The lock did not break. The magic did not weaken. The treasury remained silent. Until tonight. The little boy looked as if he had crawled out of a chimney. His brown tunic was torn at the sleeves. His knees were scraped. His dark hair was matted with soot and dust. Black streaks covered his face and hands like war paint. He was so small that he had dragged a stone stool across the chamber just to reach the glowing mechanism. And now his fingers moved with impossible confidence through the spinning crystal rings. King Aldric descended the steps of the throne dais, his crimson cape sweeping across the polished floor. “Seize him!” he commanded. But no guard reached the boy. The magical lock had begun to hum. The runes spun faster. Blue light flickered across every face in the chamber. The guards hesitated. Even they understood one mistake could trigger the chamber’s ancient defenses. A nearby noblewoman clutched her jeweled necklace. “Who let this street child inside?” she whispered. No one answered. At the edge of the room, Captain Roderic tightened his grip on his sword. He had personally inspected every corridor leading to the treasury. No servant. No noble. No rat could have entered without his knowledge. Yet somehow this boy had walked into the most secure chamber in the kingdom. The king turned sharply. “Captain, explain this.” Roderic dropped to one knee. “Your Majesty, I swear by my life, I do not know.” The boy ignored them all. His dirty fingers glided over the rotating rings. Tap. Twist. Press. Each movement was precise. Natural. As if he were not guessing, but remembering. The High Mage stepped forward, his silver robes rustling over the floor. Archmage Vaelor was the oldest living wizard in the realm. His beard flowed to his chest, and his staff was crowned with a crystal containing centuries of magical knowledge. He had spent five years studying the treasury seal. Five years and thousands of failed attempts. Now his sharp eyes narrowed. “That symbol,” he whispered. The king looked toward him. “What is it?” Vaelor’s voice trembled. “He bypassed the outer protection.” A murmur spread through the nobles. Impossible. “You won’t believe what happened next.” (I know you’re curious about what happens next—if you want to continue, just comment “YES” below!) 👇👇
