[Haldor's POV—Imperial Palace—After the Night of Fire]
The moment I reached the inner courtyard, my feet stopped on their own.
His Majesty—the Emperor of Eloria—was dragging Count Talvan across the marble floor by his collar like a sack of rotten meat. Talvan's body scraped helplessly behind him, his hands clawing weakly at the ground.
"Y—Your Majesty… I beg you… I apologize… Your Majesty—"
His Majesty did not even slow down.
"Silence," he growled. "You apologized the moment you chose treason."
Talvan whimpered as he was hauled toward the dungeon corridor, half-conscious, dignity already dead before his body followed.
And then—I saw her. Standing behind him, hair slightly disheveled, eyes burning with life.
"Lavi—!"
She turned at the sound of my voice, "Haldor…"
She smiled, not the smile of an empress, not the smile of a tyrant. But the smile of my wife, who had returned from death. I crossed the distance in three strides and pulled her into my arms without thinking.
