Magnus's hands, trembling with desperation, reached for the dagger embedded in his chest. Each attempt to grasp it only seemed to intensify the searing pain, and sweat poured from his forehead in rivulets, soaking his clothes. His entire body shook because of the intense pain. And he had lost a good amount of blood too.
Damien observed him with a smirk, his gaze unrelenting. "Don't waste your strength, Magnus. You're not in any condition to pull that out, and if you die now, what use will Alora be to me?" His voice was cold, yet tinged with a dark satisfaction. He rubbed his temples as if considering the implications of Magnus's demise.
"You see, I've heard quite a bit about your daughter lately. Alora has become quite the talk of the three kingdoms. It's rather impressive how she forgave you despite your past wrongs," Damien said, shifting his focus to Norman, who was cowering nearby.
