Chapter - 102
In the shadowy depths of the royal palace in Theran, an ancient figure sat upon a throne of cold obsidian. His frail form was draped in robes as dark as the void, and his eyes—sunken, yet gleaming with a terrible intelligence—were fixed on a crystal floating before him. The crystal pulsed with a sinister light, projecting an image that stretched across the dimly lit chamber. In it, the events of the coliseum in Ironhelm, the heart of the kingdom of Avele, played out in vivid detail.
Valdemar von Blutstahl, the dark mage who had lived for over two centuries, watched with mounting irritation as his plans unraveled before his eyes. The mages—his finest creations, honed through years of training and the most vile of magics—had been dispatched to kill Princess Vela Ironhelm, the sharpest of the king of Avele's heirs. It should have been simple, a surgical strike amidst the chaos of a public event. Yet, things had not gone as expected.
