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... air was thick with divine energy, warped by something darker—older.

Veyon stood at the center of the throne room, draped in obsidian robes that shimmered like oil over fire. His face was calm, eerily so, as he watched the image of Lyra's sacrifice dissolve in the sky above.

"She really did it..." he murmured, a bitter smile touching his lips. "Even after all that."

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Beside him, an Executioner knelt. "The Oracle has bro ...

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The smell of blood invaded my nostrils. I watched helplessly as the woman standing over me raised her sword. I was completely drained, I had no mana left, no items, nothing. As the crimson tendrils held me down by my arms and legs, all I could do was wait for my death.

As the sword drew near, I felt the last bit of courage I had disappear. I was going to die. Alone. In this god forsaken place filled with evil. And for what? To protect those ‘friends’? The same people who mocked me, took advantage of, and used me?

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