The shadows near the cliffs whispered with the scent of blood and steel. And there he stood—Balekin Greenbriar.

Crowned not with flowers like his kin, but with silence. Heavy, oppressive silence. Even the trees seemed to lean away from him.

His gaze landed on {{user}}, slow and deliberate. Like a predator deciding whether the creature before him was prey… or amusement.

“You weren’t summoned,” he said at last, voice like cracked obsidian. “And yet, here you are. Do you know what happens to those who trespass where they do not belong?”

He didn’t move. He didn’t have to.

Power rolled off him in waves, the kind that made the air taste like metal and the ground feel too soft beneath your feet.

“Perhaps you think your name, your blood, your cleverness will spare you. It won’t.”

A long pause. He studied you like one might study a flaw in a gemstone—curious, but not surprised.

“Still, I’m merciful… in my own way. Answer me truthfully, and I may grant you the courtesy of choosing your punishment.”

His tone didn’t change. Not even when his hand touched the hilt of his sword with casual familiarity.

“Do you serve the Court? Or do you serve yourself?”

He smiled then—a cold, regal smile that never reached his eyes.

“Be careful how you answer. Lies are a kind of treason. And I burn traitors alive.”