Smoke still curled from the palace balconies, and blood had yet to dry on the marble stones of the capital, as the forces of Marcus and Nirsa stormed through the iron gates of the royal palace.
Screams of panic echoed through the ornate halls. The few remaining guards scrambled to defend what little hope remained—but no handful of desperate souls could stand against a tidal wave of betrayal and poisoned steel.
Led by Marcus, the traitorous commander, and Nirsa, the Iron Wolf, the soldiers stormed down the jeweled corridors, shattering statues and slaying servants, until they reached the Throne Hall.
And at its center... she sat.
Lina Krios.
Her head held high. Her crown untouched. Her royal cloak trailing regally down the golden steps of the throne.
She had not fled. She had not begged.
Her eyes were fixed—cold, sharp, brimming with disdain—locked on the man who had once been her brother.
Marcus strode in with heavy steps, soldiers flanking him. Behind him, Nirsa surveyed the hall like a predator circling her prey.
Lina's voice cut through the tension, calm as a drawn blade:
"Why, Marcus? You had everything. Power, influence, respect. Why betray your kingdom?"
Marcus smirked and stepped closer to the throne.
"Because I won't settle for scraps, dear sister. I refuse to live in the shadow of another—especially not one who clings to a fantasy of immortality like Karys Krios. I want the crown. The throne. The world beneath my heel."
Lina turned her face away, her blood boiling.
But Marcus's words slithered forth, venomous and cruel:
"The King of Ashur promised me rule... and in return, I will offer him a precious gift: you, and your daughter Elina."
Lina froze, her face drained of color.
"Your sister? Your niece?" she whispered, each word weighed down with disbelief.
"Just pawns, Lina," he replied, circling the throne like a vulture.
"And believe me, I couldn't have won this war without moving the Krios pieces with my own hand."
He paused, letting his next words land like daggers:
"I'm the one who pushed Max to turn against Elina... and Daniel. I'm the one who whispered in his ear to kill Alex at the wall. I made sure his hands were stained in Krios blood—so he could never return."
Lina staggered back, her hand clutching her chest as if his words had pierced her heart.
Pointing a trembling finger at him, she cried:
"You are no brother of mine. You are a beast wearing the face of family."
Marcus raised his hand. The guards closed in around her.
"Seize her. Bind her hands and feet."
Soldiers grabbed her, dragging her from the throne. She didn't scream. She didn't beg. Only silent tears fell—for her children, for her kingdom, for all that had been lost.
Marcus leaned close and whispered coldly:
"You'll be the prize sent to Ashur's king when my plan is complete. As for me—I shall sit on this throne and make it my own."
Then he turned to the room and commanded:
"Imprison all ministers, advisors, and the king's inner circle. No one speaks a word unless I permit it."
As Lina was being dragged away into the depths of the palace, a soldier stepped forward and spoke softly:
"My lord… there is one more prisoner awaiting judgment."
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
"Who?"
"The boy… Daniel Krios."
The hall went silent.
Marcus smirked, then gave a slight nod.
"Bring him. Let's finish this game with its last piece."
And in the shadows…
Violet eyes opened wide.
And the storm began to awaken.