King Tharion's crimson eyes narrowed as Valemir's words lingered in the air like a foul stench. He turned his gaze toward the woman on her knees—chained, trembling, broken. The sunlight shimmering through the council's grand windows caught on her tears, tracing thin lines down her dirt-streaked cheeks. Yet all Tharion could feel was revulsion. To him, she wasn't a victim. She was a reminder—of darkness that once swallowed kingdoms whole, of the countless corpses that lay beneath the shadow of war.
His voice, deep and unyielding, broke the silence. "Disgusting," he said, his tone laced with disdain. "A woman of light… tainted by darkness. The very idea turns the stomach."
