The grand hall was silent except for the echoes of footsteps. King Auron stood tall, his golden crown casting a shadow over his furrowed brow. His closest allies—his knights, generals, and advisors—had assembled before him. But the tension was suffocating, the kind that no celebration could mask. The air was thick with unspoken words, and the flickering torchlight seemed to dance uneasily on the cold stone walls. The hall, once a place of triumph and unity, now felt like a cage.
Auron's gaze swept across the room, taking in the faces of those he had trusted most. There was General Kael, his oldest friend and most loyal commander, his armor gleaming in the dim light. Beside him stood Elara, his trusted advisor, her sharp eyes scanning the room with a calculating gaze. The others—knights, nobles, and council members—stood in silence, their expressions unreadable.
"Why do you look so grim, my friends?" Auron asked, a smile tugging at his lips. "Tonight, we feast for victory."
No one answered.
The silence was deafening. The king's voice, usually commanding and full of authority, now seemed to hang in the air, unanswered and hollow. His eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face, a reassuring nod, anything to dispel the growing unease in his chest. But the faces of his allies were unreadable, their expressions a mixture of guilt, fear, and resolve.
From the shadows, General Kael stepped forward, his face a mask of regret. His armor, once polished to a brilliant sheen, now seemed dull under the dim light. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, but he made no move to draw it—not yet.
"Your Majesty," Kael began, his voice steady but heavy with emotion, "this is not a feast of celebration. It is the end of your reign."
Auron froze, his sharp gaze darting around the room. The very people he trusted now surrounded him, their swords drawn. The glint of steel reflected in his eyes, and for a moment, he could not comprehend what was happening. This was his inner circle, his most loyal companions, the men and women who had fought beside him through countless battles. How could they betray him now?
"Kael," Auron said, his voice low and dangerous, "what madness is this?"
Kael's jaw tightened, and he took a step closer to the king. "It's not madness, my king. It's survival. Your ambition has made enemies of us all. The nobles, the council, the people—they all want your head."
The words struck Auron like a physical blow. He had always known that his rule was not without its challenges, but he had never imagined it would come to this. He had fought tirelessly to protect his kingdom, to expand its borders, to ensure its prosperity. And yet, here he stood, betrayed by those he had trusted most.
Before Auron could respond, a sharp pain shot through his side. He staggered, looking down at the blade that had pierced his armor. Blood trickled down the polished steel, staining the intricate designs that marked his rank. His eyes followed the blade to the hand that held it, and his heart sank.
Elara.
His trusted advisor, his confidante, the woman who had stood by his side through every decision, every triumph, every failure. Her face was cold, devoid of the warmth and wisdom he had come to rely on. Her eyes, once filled with loyalty, now burned with a fierce determination.
"Why?" he whispered, his voice barely audible as he clutched at the wound.
"For the greater good," she said coldly, her tone as sharp as the dagger she had driven into his side.
Auron fell to his knees, his strength ebbing away with each passing second. The grand hall, once a symbol of his power and authority, now seemed to close in around him. The faces of his betrayers blurred, their voices merging into a cacophony of mocking laughter. He tried to speak, to demand answers, to curse them for their treachery, but the words caught in his throat.
As his vision darkened, Auron's mind raced. He thought of the battles he had fought, the sacrifices he had made, the dreams he had nurtured for his kingdom. He thought of the people he had sworn to protect, the legacy he had hoped to leave behind. And now, it was all slipping away, stolen by the very hands that had once upheld him.
The last thing he saw was Elara's face, her expression unreadable as she watched him fall. The last thing he heard was the sound of her voice, cold and unyielding, echoing in his ears.
"For the greater good."
And then, there was nothing.