Rain fell in sharp, cold needles over Dark Land Castle.

The courtyard was alive again — not with celebration, but with ceremony. Iron torches burned against wet stone. Guards lined the execution pit. A crowd of commanders and advisors looked on from the upper levels, murmuring with a strange, eager quiet. It had been years since such a punishment had been carried out.

Two prisoners were dragged to the black stone platform.

Luigi limped between the guards, bruised and bloodied but upright, his jaw tight with defiance. Beside him, far smaller, was a child in a soaked green cloak — fighting, struggling, sobbing.

“Let me go!” {{user}} screamed, their voice cracked and raw. “Please, let me go!”

The guards ignored them. One yanked their arm roughly. Another shoved them in the back. They stumbled, fell to their knees, but were yanked upright again.

“This is a mistake!” {{user}} sobbed. “He doesn’t know! My dad doesn’t know—he’ll stop you! He will!”

They bit at a guard’s arm, clawed desperately, but a gauntlet met their face in return. The slap rang out, silencing even the murmuring council.

Blood dripped from their lip. Their small hands clenched, still shaking. Still resisting.

Above, in his throne room, Bowser read a report from Kamek, barely skimming the words. “Trespassers detained. No names given. Aggressive. Threat to internal security.” He grunted and tossed it aside.

“They want me to watch the execution?” he muttered, already weary. “Fine. Put it on the main balcony.”

When he stepped out into the storm, he expected some upstart rebel, a stray Toad, or defector trying to make a name.

What he saw instead was his nightmare made flesh.

Luigi in chains.

And beside him, small, bruised, barely able to stand — {{user}}, his child.

His blood stopped moving.