The ride back to the palace was one of the heaviest Izan had ever endured. His heart sank under the weight of what he'd witnessed, and the failure to capture Lord Cedric only twisted the knife deeper.
Lucian, tied up like a common criminal, staggered behind, dragged by a thick rope that bound his wrists. His once pristine robes were now stained with dirt, sweat, and shame, hanging off him like rags. Each step seemed to drain what little composure Lucian had left.
He had lost the gleam of arrogance that once marked his every step. Now, his face was pale and drawn, streaked with tears and dirt. He stumbled, nearly collapsing, as the guards yanked him forward.
"Please, Izan... Brother. You can't do this!" Lucian's voice cracked, laced with desperation.
His tear-streaked face, usually filled with venom and entitlement, was now contorted with fear. "I didn't mean for things to go this far… Please!"
