The guards dragged him forward next, the weight of his own chains seemingly nothing compared to the burden of his father's lifeless gaze.
Before he could be brought to the block, the sound of the crowd grew hushed. A figure emerged from the residence doors, her gown a stark contrast to the black that had overtaken the stage—white, almost blinding in its purity. It was Elezabeth, now crowned queen, her once warm eyes now cold.
The new queen ascended the steps with a poise that belied the horror of the scene unfolding before her. The crowd parted like a black sea before a ship of ice. Her voice, when it came, was like a knife through the silence.
"Citizens of Sylphorath, today we mourn not only the loss of our great king but also the betrayal of a trusted ally," Elezabeth announced, her voice strong and clear. "Lord Aldwyn Lyrendis, once hailed as a hero, has shown his true colors as a serpent in our midst."
Her eyes, cold and calculating, bore into Aldwyn's soul. He searched within himself for the words to defend his innocence, but his throat was tight with grief and anger. The guards held him upright, their grips like iron vices, as the crowd's cries for blood grew louder.
"I swear on the honor of House Lyrendis, I am not a traitor," Aldwyn's voice was hoarse, but his words carried a desperate conviction. The crowd jeered, unwilling to believe the hero they had so recently celebrated could be anything but a monster.
Queen Elezabeth flashed him a slight smile before turning to the crowd. "But fear not! I will do my best to be a good queen to all of you," she added. "Starting with the execution of this snake!"
The executioner stepped forward, his axe already stained with the blood of innocents. The crowd's chant grew deafening, their faces a sea of rage and thirst for retribution.
Aldwyn's mind raced, desperately seeking a way out of the nightmare unfolding before him. His eyes darted around the square, looking for any sign of a friendly face, any hint of a rescue. But all he saw were the cold, unforgiving stares of his former comrades and the terrified faces of the common folk, now whipped into a frenzy by the new queen's words.
"You are making a mistake... I am innocent! I have—" his word was suddenly interrupted by the axe that separated his head from his body. The former hero of the kingdom was thus executed, without the right to defend himself.
The crowd roared, a mix of anger, relief, and the macabre excitement of having witnessed a powerful man's fall from grace. The guards stepped back, allowing Aldwyn's lifeless body to collapse to the ground, joining the other casualties of the night.
Queen Elezabeth's voice rose above the cacophony and silenced the crowds with regal authority. "Tonight we enter a new era," she proclaimed, her eyes glinting with cold determination. "An era of peace, unity and strength. To that purpose, I proclaim a truce between our beloved kingdom of Sylphora and the Dravaryn Kingdom."
The crowd's shock was palpable, the sudden shift in tone leaving them stunned. The mention of the Dravaryn, their sworn enemies, brought a mix of whispers and gasps. "We will set aside our differences and work towards a prosperous future," she continued, her gaze unwavering as it swept over the sea of faces before her. "Let this be a lesson to all who would dare threaten our peace... betrayal shall not go unpunished, and the price for treason is steep."
As the last echoes of her words hung in the air, the crowd remained silent, unsure of how to react to this sudden revelation. Slowly, the shock gave way to a murmur of approval, the promise of peace a seductive balm to their troubled hearts.
With the executions completed, Queen Elezabeth turned and swept back into the residence, her gown trailing behind her like a veil of ice. The guards followed her, their steps measured and precise, leaving the grisly scene behind. The square began to empty, the citizens of Sylphorath whispering among themselves, the reality of what had just transpired still sinking in.
A male voice suddenly sounded from the shadows. "Congratulations, Your Highness, that was a nice performance."
Elezabeth's head snapped to the source, her eyes narrowed. "Varek," she said with forced calm. "You know very well that I hate this kind of surprise, so could you please show yourself."
Varek, a tall and slender man, emerged from the shadows. His dark, shoulder-length hair appeared slightly disheveled and his ice-gray eyes shimmered with a subtle, almost supernatural glow.
He wore a tight-fitting, black leather vest. Over it was a long, jet-black coat of heavy fabric, lined on the inside with dark burgundy. The shoulders were reinforced with dark leather and on his forearms were tightly laced bracers. His hands were clad in fingerless gloves of supple leather, spiked with reinforced dark metal plates on the back of his hands.
His smile was cold, his gaze unreadable. "Forgive me, my Queen, but I felt the need to congratulate you on your swift and decisive action. The kingdom is now in your hands."
He paused briefly as he took long steps towards Elezabeth. "I hope you haven't forgotten our agreement. After all, my help was crucial."
Elezabeth's expression remained impassive, although her eyes held a hint of annoyance. "Of course not, Varek," she replied in a sharp tone. "Your ... Help was invaluable."
"I will send a troop tomorrow, you will accompany it," she added. "Once the conquest is complete, the territory will be yours... Under the flag of the Sylphora Kingdom."
Varek's smile grew. "Thank you, my Queen. I shall not disappoint." With these words, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Elezabeth alone.
....
Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the city, the gruesome task of disposing of the corpses was underway. The bodies of the accused traitors lay in a macabre heap. The air was thick with the coppery smell of blood and the cloying scent of fear, a clear reminder of the gruesome events of the day. The executioner wiped the blood from his axe with a rough cloth after his work was done, his eyes emotionless.
Suddenly, as Aldwyn's lifeless form was about to be thrown into the ditch, a strange feeling came over them. A cold, dark energy began to wrap itself around him, shrouding him in a veil of shadow. The surprised guards took a step back, their eyes widening in shock.
From the shadows, the energy grew denser, forming a sphere from which four obsidian-black angel wings emerged. They were not the wings of a heavenly creature, but rather the twisted appendages of a creature born from the darkest depths of the Abyss. The wings grew, stretching outwards, each feather sharp as a dagger and gleaming like polished onyx.
The guards stumbled back, crosses drawn in a ward against the unholy presence that seemed to coalesce around the headless body of Aldwyn Lyrendis. The ground trembled, and the air grew colder as the dark essence thickened, until the body began to twitch and spasm, defying the laws of the mortal realm.
With a sudden jolt, the corpse rose from the ground, the wings fully spread and casting a terrifying shadow upon the blood-soaked earth. The headless torso hovered for a moment, a silent scream frozen in time, before a new head began to form from the neck stump. It grew with agonizing slowness, flesh and bone stretching and snapping into place, until the features of Aldwyn's face coalesced once more.
The guards gasped in horror as the once-dead hero looked around. The guards stumbled back, dropping their weapons in their haste to escape from the abomination before them. The executioner, a man hardened by a lifetime of violence, fell to his knees, his trembling hands still clutching the axe that had claimed so many lives.
With the completion of his head, a black scar appeared around Aldwyn's neck, looking more like an eerie mark than a grim reminder of his violent end. The wings, those terrifying black wings, retracted into his back with a hissing sound and dropped him to the ground.