Liam was terrified. There were no words to fully describe the dread that rippled through his body as he knelt there, powerless and shaking. His hands trembled against the damp grass of the endless field, and his chest heaved as if it was being crushed beneath a mountain. The very air around them crackled with an ancient, overwhelming energy, and each breath he took felt like inhaling the weight of centuries.
He made the mistake of glancing up—of looking directly into the king's eyes.
In that moment, something snapped within him.
It wasn't pain in the usual sense. It wasn't a cut or a burn or even something as harrowing as being impaled. It was a violation of something deeper—something buried in his soul. Like a dam of memories and burdens not his own had suddenly burst into him. His head snapped back, and his mouth opened in a raw, broken scream. The sound that came from him was not just his voice, but the voice of a hundred echoes, crying out through time.
