Arrest him!" a familiar, authoritative voice boomed through the air as the throne room doors burst open. Vincent's hands still grasped his sword, its blade deeply embedded in Nathan's back and his mother's stomach.
With a forceful jerk, he withdrew the sword, and it slid to the ground with a sluggish clang as his hands dropped to his sides. Slowly, he turned to face the owner of the commanding voice.
Lord Raymond's eyes scanned the room, taking in the gruesome scene before him - a crimson-stained showcase of tragedy. His gaze finally settled on Vincent, whose eyes were empty, soulless, and devoid of warmth.
Vincent's body was battered, his face smeared with blood, and his hands dripping with the same crimson liquid. He attempted to speak, but all that escaped his lips was a maniacal laugh, which grew in intensity.
