The chains shattered.
A pulse of raw power rippled through the air as the iron links disintegrated, scattering across the marble steps like dying embers. The once-bound king, slumped and defeated just moments ago, now rose with terrifying authority.
Lysandra's breath hitched.
Jael went rigid beside her. "No…"
This wasn't the helpless prisoner they had seen moments ago.
This was King Aldric the Unyielding.
His golden eyes gleamed, his torn robes billowing with the unseen force swirling around him. The very air seemed to bend in his presence, the weight of his fury pressing against their chests like a vice.
The heir's smirk was gone.
For the first time, he looked uncertain.
A Father's Wrath
"You dare to call this throne yours?" The king's voice was thunderous, reverberating through the empty streets. "You speak of fate as if it is something written in stone. But let me teach you something, boy—fate bows to the strong."
The heir narrowed his eyes. "You should be dead."
The king tilted his head. "And yet, here I stand."
Lysandra could feel it—the shift in power.
The mist that once obeyed the heir faltered. Its movements became sluggish, curling uncertainly around his feet instead of rushing forward like loyal hounds.
Jael clenched his fists. "What's happening?"
Lysandra didn't take her eyes off the scene before them. "I think… I think the king was never fully bound."
The heir's lips parted, but no words came.
The realization dawned in his silver eyes—slow, creeping dread.
"You thought you had me," the king continued, stepping forward. His heavy boots echoed on the marble steps. "You thought your magic was enough to break me."
The heir took a step back.
The king sneered. "Pathetic."
And then—he moved.
Power Against Power
In the blink of an eye, King Aldric crossed the distance between them.
The heir barely had time to raise his hand before the king seized him by the throat.
The air cracked.
A surge of golden energy erupted from the king's grip, slamming into the heir like a violent storm. The mist howled in protest, twisting wildly as it tried to push back—but it failed.
The heir gasped, his fingers clawing at the king's iron hold. "No—"
The king lifted him off the ground.
"You were never strong enough to defeat me," Aldric hissed. "You were only strong enough to delay me."
The heir's body convulsed. The mist surrounding him screeched, fighting desperately to free him—but it was already breaking apart.
Jael's hands trembled at his sides. "Lysandra, we have to do something."
Lysandra hesitated.
Because for the first time…
She wasn't sure who the real enemy was anymore.
A Darker Truth
The heir's silver eyes flickered to her. Pleading.
And then—he choked out a single word.
"Run."
Lysandra's stomach dropped.
Before she could react, the king's grip tightened.
A final, deafening crack echoed through the air.
And the heir collapsed.
His body hit the marble steps motionless.
The mist around the city shattered into nothing.
The civilians who had been cursed fell to their knees, gasping as if waking from a terrible dream.
Silence.
And then—the king turned to them.
His golden eyes, once burning with fury, now gleamed with something far more terrifying.
Triumph.
Lysandra took a slow step back.
Because suddenly, it was clear.
They hadn't just defeated the heir.
They had unleashed something worse.