The walk back to the palace's throne room was slow, tense, and laden with unspoken weight. Vale, his wrists bound and face bruised from the fight, walked between Carys and Amara, his head held high despite his defeat. His defiance only made Damien's steel-gray eyes harden further, though he kept his anger in check. The battle was over, but the true confrontation—the reckoning for Vale's treachery—was yet to come.
Guards snapped to attention as the trio approached the throne room, their armor gleaming under the light of the flickering torches. Word of Vale's capture had already spread, and whispers of his betrayal rippled through the palace. Damien could feel their eyes on him, the mixture of respect and fear he had grown used to since taking on this role.
