The bells of Zarethrone tolled five times. Each chime echoed like a pulse of something ancient and inescapable, rippling through the vast corridors and archways of the royal citadel. The entire palace seemed to still, caught in a breathless hush, as though the very walls were bracing for what was to come.
Today was Judgment by Desire.
The Day of Flesh.
The rumors had always sounded impossible. That in the kingdom of Zarethrone, justice wasn't weighed by swords or sealed in scrolls. That one didn't plead with tears or stand before a jury of peers. No. In Zarethrone, guilt was decided by the body's surrender. Shame was peeled back with pleasure. Mercy, if earned, came through ecstasy.
And today, Nigel would witness it with his own eyes.