Blood seeped between the cobblestones of the Grand Chamber of Justice, pooling in dark crimson lakes that reflected the fractured light from shattered stained glass above. Three days had passed since the massacre that had exposed the rot within the kingdom's heart. Lord Reed stood amid the carnage, his amber eyes fixed on the defaced royal emblem—once proud and pristine, now marred by blasphemous sigils etched in dried blood.
The smell of death clung to everything. Bodies had been removed, but the stench remained—a miasma of decomposition, spilled viscera, and the peculiar acrid odor that emanated from those who had been possessed. Reed's sensitive goblin nose detected nuances others missed: fear, betrayal, and something else—something ancient and patient beneath it all.
