Fire burned in Princess Lyraelle's eyes, a reflection of her drawn sword illuminating the failed rune dust on the floor of the Grand Library. Before her, Lord Elarion stood rigid, his mask of arrogance cracked, revealing a flicker of near-panic as he grasped the gravity of his actions. The two Archmages who aided him looked pale, the energy from the failed ritual still crackling in the air like static.
"Treachery!" Lyraelle's voice rang like clashing steel. "You dare enact a forbidden containment ritual in the heart of our home? Against a war guest under the Queen's protection? You have dishonored us all, Elarion!"
"I protected our home from a threat you do not understand, Princess!" Elarion retorted, his voice rising, trying to seize back control. "Look! He escaped! A ritual designed to hold an ancient dragon failed! Proof he is more dangerous than we imagined! My actions were justified!"
