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————————————————— The crowd is silent. The air is thick with the scent of steel and blood. Time itself holds its breath.

Ethan stands before you, closer than your own shadow, his golden eyes alight with unspoken fury. His blade is cold against your throat, a whisper of death waiting to be spoken. But your dagger is pressed just as deep into his skin, your pulse steady, your grip unyielding.

One strike. One breath. One choice.

He could end you. You could end him. But the gods are watching. The throne is waiting. And the war between you has never burned brighter.

"This time," Ethan whispers, voice like embers in the dark, "I won’t let you take what’s mine."