The sky bled crimson as the sun began to rise, its first rays slicing through the morning mist like knives of gold and fire. It was the kind of sunrise meant for glory — or for tragedy.
And this morning… it was the latter.
The courtyard below the castle was unrecognizable. Where flowers once bloomed and doves once soared, now stood a sea of bodies — commoners, nobles, soldiers, and elders, shoulder to shoulder in a thick, suffocating silence. The banners of the kingdom fluttered above them, half-mast, mourning what was to come.
At the heart of the raised stone platform, two figures knelt, bound in chains forged with sacred runes — glowing faintly against the flesh.
Prince Thas.
Lord Diego.
Their heads were bowed low, their expressions unreadable. But the murmurs among the crowd said
