Edward stood in the dimly lit chamber, his gaze fixed on the cracked orb resting on the altar. He had witnessed it all—the final moments of Lucas's life through the orb's fractured connection.
He used this orb to keep track of Lucas's movements, he was not aware of them. He was not aware that it was Edward who granted him a second chance. He died as ignorant as ever.
"You begged," Edward said quietly, his voice laced with derision, as though addressing the ghost of the man who was no longer there. "You grovelled at my feet for more power, more time, more everything. And for what? To fail so miserably?"
He ran a finger along the cracks in the orb, his expression darkening. The object was more than just a relic of Lucas's failure—it was a reminder of Edward's own miscalculation.
He had expected more from the second prince and had believed that even a fragment of his former life's ambition and hatred would be enough to push him to victory. Clearly, he had overestimated him.
