Asher's voice rang through the hall, cold and emotionless, as if he were passing judgment on a matter of little consequence, "For attempting to assassinate the king, a crime punishable by the worst torment, you shall face the consequences of your treachery, Oberon."
The weight of his words hung heavily in the air. Rebecca's breath hitched, her tears spilling over as her hope for mercy began to crumble, "No…" she whispered, her voice trembling, still clinging to the faint belief that Asher wouldn't do the worst.
But as the hall stood in tense silence, waiting for his final decree, Asher's gaze hardened, "You will be sent to the depths of the Northern Rivers, where you will be devoured by the Cursed Fiends. That is the punishment you deserve. If not for the fact that you were a prince of our House, I wouldn't even grant you the mercy of a short-lived torment."
