Walid's heart pounded in his chest as he stood before Princess Riya, her request lingering in the air like a forbidden fruit. Every instinct, every shred of common sense, urged him to accept. She was the kingdom's princess, and her bed would be a dream for any man of his station. But then, the voice—the same strange, commanding presence from earlier—boomed in his mind once more.
"Refuse. Refuse. Refuse."
The sheer authority of the voice left no room for hesitation. Swallowing hard, Walid broke the silence. "Your Highness, I must decline. What you ask… it isn't right."
For a fleeting moment, Riya's emerald eyes darkened with anger, but she masked it quickly, offering a faint smile instead. "I understand. Perhaps I was too forward. Rest well, Walid." Her tone was light, but the weight of her words sent a shiver down his spine.
He returned to his quarters, his mind heavy with doubt and unease. Could he have made a mistake? Refusing a princess was dangerous, yet something about the voice—about its timing—told him he had narrowly avoided disaster. Exhausted, he fell into a troubled sleep.
Before dawn, Walid awoke to the cold steel of gauntlets striking his ribs. The royal guards dragged him from his bed, their blows relentless and their faces devoid of mercy. Confused and battered, Walid could barely make sense of the situation as they hauled him to the throne room.
What he saw froze his blood.
Princess Riya stood before the king, her dress torn and her skin bruised in ways that told a sinister tale. Tears streamed down her face as she pointed an accusing finger at Walid.
"He… he violated me, Father!" she cried, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and feigned vulnerability. "I awoke to him on top of me. He—he defiled me!"
Walid's breath caught in his throat. "That's not true!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with desperation. "Your Majesty, I swear on my life, I did no such thing!"
The king's face twisted with fury. "Enough!" he roared. "You saved my life, Walid, but that does not grant you immunity from justice. You have harmed the most precious person in my life. Guards, take him to the dungeon. Prepare for his execution!"
"No!" Walid screamed as the guards dragged him away. "I didn't do it! She's lying!"
But his protests fell on deaf ears.
The cold, damp walls of the dungeon offered little comfort as Walid lay crumpled on the floor, his body bruised and his spirit shattered. The guards, however, were not done. They returned with iron rods and wooden clubs, their faces devoid of pity.
For what felt like hours, they beat him mercilessly. Bones cracked under the weight of their strikes; each blow sent waves of excruciating pain through Walid's body. His ribs shattered one by one, the sharp edges threatening to pierce his lungs.
When they finally stopped, Walid lay on the ground, barely breathing, his chest a mangled mess of broken bones and bruised flesh. Blood dripped from his mouth as he gasped for air, every breath agony.
"You should've stayed in your village," one of the guards sneered before they left him in the dark cell.
Hours passed in silence until the heavy door creaked open.
Riya entered, her regal demeanor replaced by something far darker. Her lips curled into a wicked smile as she approached him, the torchlight casting shadows across her face.
"You truly thought you could defy me?" she hissed, her voice dripping with malice. "A filthy commoner like you? You were nothing but a toy to amuse me, and when you refused me… well, I don't take rejection kindly."
Walid's heart sank as the truth revealed itself. The kind, compassionate princess he thought he had befriended was nothing more than a sadistic manipulator.
"You'll die tomorrow," she continued, her voice laced with glee. "But not before you see everything you love destroyed. Goodbye, Walid. It's been… entertaining."
She left him in the darkness, her laughter echoing through the halls.
Walid's mind reeled as memories of his grandfather, the man who had raised him, came flooding back. The old man had always warned him about the dangers of the royal court.
"They are not like us," his grandfather had said. "The nobility, the royals—they are wolves in silk. Never trust them, Walid."
Tears streamed down Walid's face as he whispered into the void, "I should have listened, Grandfather. I'm so sorry."
The door opened again, and two guards entered, their expressions grim. They grabbed Walid, dragging his broken body through the winding corridors of the palace. He didn't struggle—he was too tired, too defeated to resist.
The guards brought him to a secluded courtyard, where a horrifying scene awaited him.
Walid's grandfather was tied to a massive stone, his frail body trembling but his eyes still burning with defiance. Across from him, suspended by a fraying rope, was another stone—heavy and sharp-edged, ready to crush him with a single release.
"No…" Walid whispered, his voice barely audible.
King Tharion stood nearby, his arms crossed and a cruel smirk on his lips. "You thought I would spare him? That saving my life would earn you some favor? No, Walid. As you have harmed what is dearest to me, I shall do the same to you. You will watch him die."
"No! Please!" Walid cried, falling to his knees. "Spare him! I'll do anything—please take my life instead!"
The king's laughter was cold and hollow. "Do you think I'll grant you such mercy? This is your punishment, boy. Watch and suffer."
As the executioner moved to cut the rope, Walid's screams filled the courtyard.