"Your Majesty, the Empress!" Moravas jolted upright from his bed. It didn't take long for him to grasp the situation—his memory snapped back instantly.
A mix of awe and bitter disenchantment surged through him. He had survived. Not a single wound.
He checked the spot where the sword had pierced his back and torn through his heart. No trace.
His charming face remained expressionless, soulless, as his fingers brushed over his left chest.
He scoffed bitterly. "Even a master healer mage would've left a scar from something like that. That sword didn't just stab through my back and chest—it shredded my heart. I should be dead."
A strange chuckle escaped him, nausea bubbling in his gut. He burst into manic laughter, hands covering his face.
"Yet I survived. Tenebris and Lord Veldrin's prophecy was true. The Silver Light. And she—the Vienna I knew back at Sellia Academy—she was never capable of magic ability."
