The Enemy Revealed

Smoke curled through the palace corridors, the scent of burning parchment and blood thick in the air. Kaelith stepped over the fallen guard, his grip tightening on his sword. The council chamber had been targeted deliberately—this was no mere rebellion.

It was war.

His soldiers were already engaged in battle, their shouts echoing through the halls. The banners of his kingdom still hung proudly above, but for how much longer? His enemy had struck deep, with precision, and the timing was no accident.

Kaelith knew only one man had the means to orchestrate such chaos.

Veylan.

He descended the marble steps two at a time, heading for the council chamber. But before he reached it, a figure emerged from the smoke. Cloaked in black, with a blade dripping red.

Not just any soldier.

Veylan himself.

"Your Highness," Veylan murmured, his lips curving into a smirk. "I was beginning to think you'd never come."

Kaelith lifted his sword. "You've made a grave mistake."

Veylan chuckled. "Oh, but haven't I? I think, perhaps, I've only just begun."

Then, before Kaelith could strike, Veylan uttered a single phrase—one that sent ice through his veins.

"It was never just about you."

Kaelith's heart slammed against his ribs.

Seraphine.

Without another word, he turned and ran.