The echo of Alpha Samuel's thunderous roar still battered the high-vaulted stone ceiling, leaving a suffocating, lethal silence in its wake. The word bastards hung in the frozen air of the hall like a swinging executioner's axe.
Violet, still curled at Varg's feet on the bloody marble floor, let out a sharp, theatrical gasp, her eflatun eyes widening with a mixture of calculated terror and desperate malice. She dragged the noble silk of her gown closer to Varg's boots, weeping as if her very soul were being torn apart, desperately clawing her way back into her armor of victimhood.
"Do you hear him, Varg?!" Violet wailed, her voice cracking with ragged, engineered sobs that shook her fragile frame.
