The man ran as if hell itself chased him.
His breath came in ragged gasps, his legs nearly giving out beneath him as he sprinted toward the Capitol's towering golden gates. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his pupils blown wide with terror.
He had to warn them.
He had to tell them what he saw.
But as he neared the entrance, something strange happened.
The guards did not open the gates.
Instead, a pulse of magic surged through the air, and suddenly—
He couldn't move.
A force wrapped around his limbs, lifting him slightly off the ground. His arms trembled against invisible restraints, his body held in place like a mere insect in a web.
Panic clawed at his throat.
"N-No—!" He thrashed, trying to break free, his voice hoarse from screaming.
But the men before him did not budge.
A group of high-ranking males stood at the gate, their gazes sharp, their expressions cold.
Kaelon. Zorath's father. His deep blue skin gleamed under the torches, his golden eyes unreadable.
