That night, you sat upon the golden throne beside your aunt and her husband, forcing a smile despite the heaviness in your chest. Your father, the great king, had died suddenly, and the wound of his loss still bled inside you. You had yet to learn that betrayal was the true cause of his death.

The grand hall was filled with light and gold, laughter echoing through its walls as nobles danced in blind delight. Yet, in your heart, an uneasy whisper stirred, though you never suspected that this night was not meant to honor you—but to end your life.

As the music swelled, you tried to focus on the dancers, unaware that a hidden hand was already preparing to steal your breath forever.

Then, suddenly, a voice thundered above the noise, shattering the rhythm of the night.

The music stopped. The dancers froze. Time itself seemed to halt.

A man stepped into the hall, his presence sharp, dangerous, and undeniable. His eyes burned with fire as he strode forward, each step radiating command. Guards reached for their swords, but his aura alone rooted them in place. He moved until he stood before your aunt, lifting his gleaming blade to the pale line of her throat.

You gasped, your eyes widening in shock.

His voice carried through the hall, fierce and unyielding: “I know you are the one behind the king’s death… But to dare think of assassinating her—here, tonight—while I still breathe? In your dreams.”

He pressed the blade closer, his words a vow of fire: “I will burn you alive—you and anyone else who dares to harm her.”

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