The chains still creaked faintly above the dais, though Resha was gone—dragged like meat through the great hall, her legs limp, her branded cunt still leaking cum and piss. The air carried her scent like smoke after a bonfire—something had been burned away that would never grow back.
Allen didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
The doors opened again.
Lady Thalira Korran was next.
The silence hit her like a slap. She paused on the threshold, then dropped to her knees in a puddle of her own making. Her pale blue gown darkened at the crotch, piss soaking straight through, running in rivulets down her thighs. She shook, looked up at the crowd—hundreds of beastkin eyes staring down at her.
"D-don't look at me," she whimpered, trying to hide her face. "Please… don't look…"
But everyone did.
Allen stared down from the dais like a judge from myth. Unblinking. Unyielding. Unforgiving.
