The foot-prints behind

Three days later, Darius arrived at the palace, his every step burdened by the memory of his actions and the weight of Avarora’s two young children, Weddy and Tyron, walking beside him. The five-year-old clung tightly to his hand, while the two-year-old rested in his arms, his small head buried against Darius's shoulder. The towering palace gates loomed ahead, an imposing reminder of the judgment that awaited him.

Waiting outside, Huang paced nervously, his expression a mixture of fury and apprehension. He turned sharply as Darius approached, his eyes narrowing.

“What have you done?” Huang hissed, keeping his voice low but sharp. “The Queen is livid. I’ve barely managed to stop her from ordering your arrest on the spot. Let’s go—she’s waiting. And listen to me carefully: I’ll do the talking. Say nothing unless I tell you to!”

Darius nodded wordlessly, the tension in Huang’s voice mirrored in his own heart.

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