The Heinous Prophecy

According to the prophecy, I will be killed by my own child before it is even born.

My name is Humbert Emmanuelle, and I am the current king of the Kingdom of Risorgo.

It was another morning beneath a cloudy sky. The weather showed no sign of changing, as though the heavens had forgotten how to reveal their true colours. The sun remained hidden behind grey clouds, both day and night. It had been this way ever since I found my bride and married her.

It was rather strange. Our nation had always been blessed by the radiant star above us, yet five years had passed, and nothing had changed.

The old woman from the northern lands was known throughout the kingdom as a crazy hag, someone who spouted nonsense after nonsense.

Nobody believed a word she said.

She had spoken of three prophecies.

The first foretold that, by the time I turned eighteen, I would wed a pale woman.

And so I did.

I met a woman named Ranavalona Batory, a noblewoman of House Batory. Her family was known as the sole surviving family of the Kingdom of Teapa, with a lineage closely tied to royalty. Rumour had it that their bloodline could be traced back to the legendary hero who vanquished the Demon Lord.

I cannot explain why, but I was instantly smitten by her beauty. It was almost as though she had charmed me with a spell.

The second prophecy declared that our kingdom would lose three things: the light, the water, and the steel.

It took me some time to understand what she meant.

For years, our kingdom had been deprived of sunlight. Grey clouds constantly covered the heavens, yet they never brought rain. As a result, our crops suffered, and our food supplies began to dwindle.

With neither sunlight nor rain, we were forced to receive rations from neighbouring kingdoms in exchange for our weapons. It was a rather bold bargain, if I may be honest.

Only after witnessing the consequences did I begin to understand the old woman’s words.

And with that understanding came the fear of what might follow.

The third and final prophecy was the most dreadful of them all.

I would be killed by my own child.

I was taken aback when I first heard those words. Many people dismissed the old woman’s prophecies as nonsense, which, honestly, was understandable. But after witnessing the first two come true, could anyone blame me for believing in the third?

Unfortunately, as the king of Risorgo, I could do little to escape the situation. I was constantly pressured to sire a child with my wife.

My father and mother never stopped reminding me of my royal duty. They wanted me to produce an heir, the future king who would inherit my throne and continue our bloodline. Yet whenever they brought up the subject, I always found an excuse to avoid it.

Even my friends and comrades insisted that I fulfil my responsibilities. And truthfully, I understood their reasoning. Royal blood coursed through my veins, and as king, it was my duty to ensure that my lineage endured and that my kingdom continued to prosper.

But how could I bring a child into this world knowing that they might one day kill me?

What reason could my own flesh and blood possibly have to take my life? I could not understand why my child would want to kill me, nor could I bear the thought of being murdered by someone I was supposed to love and protect.

The worst part was my wife’s family. They were just as eager for me to sire a child with their daughter. Ranavalona’s brothers and sisters never directly threatened me, but their insistence often made me feel as though they were.

And then there was my own wife.

Ranavalona was clearly eager to become pregnant. In fact, every night, she showered me with kisses, constantly expressing her affection.

I loved her, but I simply could not bring myself to take that final step. Paranoia had taken hold of me, and I could not risk allowing the prophecy to come true.

So, to put an end to my torment, I decided to speak with the old hag herself.

She lived in a small hut on the outskirts of the kingdom, beyond its outer walls, far enough away that it was difficult to spot from a distance.

Every day, she could be found standing before the statue of our first king, spouting her usual nonsense. But on this particular day, she was seated upon a wooden chair, staring out of the window.

When I approached her, her lips were moving, muttering words that made no sense. She did not even turn to look at me.

I tried speaking to her, but she refused to acknowledge my presence.

Then, at last, she spoke.

"The child will be the destruction of the kingdom."

Her words caught me by surprise.

"What do you mean?"

For the first time, she seemed to acknowledge me, although her gaze remained unsettling, as though she were looking straight through me.

The original prophecy had foretold that my child would kill me. Now, she was adding something even more terrible.

“My child would destroy my kingdom?”

What could she possibly mean?

The old hag continued repeating the same phrase over and over again, as though those words were the only thing left in her mind.

I tried asking her more questions.

"Why?"

But the old hag fell silent. She shut her mouth and said nothing more, merely staring back at me.

Then, slowly, she began to cough.

Blood spilled from her mouth as she struggled to breathe.

And through her coughing, she uttered one final sentence.

"Because you will kill your own child."