The hall of the royal palace was deathly quiet, the kind of silence that creeps into your bones and stays there. The flames in the hearth flickered low, casting long shadows along the marble floor.
High-arched windows let in the cold light of morning, but nothing warmed the space between father and son.
The King of the Azure Flame Kingdom sat upon his throne, unmoving, carved from obsidian and steel, as unyielding as the man himself.
His gaze was fixed on Prince Orion, who stood before him, shoulders drawn tight, face unreadable.
"Seven," the king said, his voice even but heavy. "Seven high-ranking nobles, Orion. Dead. In one night. At a banquet you hosted."
There was no response.
The prince stood still, hands at his sides, his jaw clenched tight. He didn't look away, but he didn't speak either.
