The evening slowly burned itself out, filled with loud breaths and fading moans, only cooling once the moon cast its pale brilliance over the ruined walls of the castle. By then, silence had returned to the halls, heavy and strange after everything that had happened in a single day.
No one had expected one kingdom to fall before sunset, only for another to be born from its ashes by nightfall. The weight of that truth pressed on everyone alike, leaving the people exhausted, uneasy, and deeply afraid of what this new future might become. To them, Max was already a tyrant.
His judgment, his threats, and the speed with which he had begun twisting the fate of the kingdom made many curse him in silence. No one dared speak those thoughts aloud. The memory of his iron grip was still far too fresh, and fear sealed their mouths better than loyalty ever could.
