"They betrayed us. To think the elders we trusted could fall so far!" a younger guard muttered, his voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and disgust.
Murmurs filled the Grand Hall, a storm of accusations and confusion rippling through the crowd. The once-majestic space seemed heavier, suffocating under the weight of betrayal.
In the center of the hall, Cedrin's battered and bloodied form lay sprawled on the cold marble floor. Around him, the other traitorous elders were slumped over, unconscious and stripped of their dignity.
"Disgraceful," an elder spat, his lips curling in contempt. "To think they would sully the Vossmer name like this!"
Near the front of the gathering stood Elder Lysandre, her aged features etched with sorrow. Her frost Qi, faintly shimmering around her, seemed dimmed by the weight of what she was witnessing.