The gates of Aerysthal rose like ancient sentinels as General Selene Varkos approached, her horse's steady strides echoing across the stone road. The sun was falling behind the capital, casting the city in warm gold, as if welcoming home its champion after months of brutal warfare.
Selene expected noise.She expected celebration—shouts of victory, streaming banners, people rushing to greet the returning vanguard. Aerysthal had always taken pride in its heroes.
But today, the city was mute.
No trumpets.No rushing crowds.Not even a curious child peeking from a window.
Selene slowed her mare, her eyes narrowing as she observed the empty streets. Shutters were drawn tight. Torches flickered weakly, unattended. Market tables lay overturned as if abandoned in haste. Even the usual scent of baked bread drifting from the lower districts was absent—as though the city itself was holding its breath.
Behind her, Captain Rhys urged his horse closer. "General," he murmured, low enough so the men wouldn't hear, "has there been an outbreak? A threat? This isn't normal."
Selene kept her gaze forward. "If there was danger, we would have been met by scouts before reaching the capital."
"Then why—"
"We will find out soon enough."
Despite her calm voice, a knot tightened in her chest. She had seen towns fall silent like this before—villages too terrified to speak, cities held hostage by fear. But this was Aerysthal, the heart of the kingdom. The capital did not cower.
Unless something—or someone—made it.
They continued through the quiet streets, the sound of armor clinking the only movement in the still air. Her soldiers looked on edge, hands resting on weapon hilts, though none dared to break formation.
When they reached the castle courtyard, the reason revealed itself.
A full battalion of palace guards lined the entrance—one hundred men armored in gold and black, the formal colors of the royal defense. Their faces were grim, their stance rigid. They were not assembled for honor.
They were assembled for restraint.
Selene reined in her horse. Rhys's jaw tightened. "This isn't a welcome," he whispered.
No, it wasn't.
The captain of the palace guard stepped forward, helmet tucked under his arm. His expression flickered between sorrow and duty. "General Selene Varkos," he announced, voice loud but hesitating, "by order of the High Council, you and your vanguard are to dismount."
Selene did not move. "State your reason."
A cleric emerged from the line, clutching a scroll sealed with the golden crest of the monarchy—the symbol of absolute authority. Even the air seemed to still as he unrolled it with trembling hands.
"By decree of His Majesty and the High Council," the cleric read, though his voice wavered, "General Selene Varkos stands accused of treason against the crown, conspiracy to overthrow the monarchy, and responsibility for the massacre at Halior Pass."
The words rang through the courtyard like steel on stone.
Rhys jolted. "What—? That's a lie! She saved us! She—"
Selene raised a hand, silencing him instantly. The soldiers behind them muttered in disbelief, hands gripping their weapons, but they dared not defy her order.
She kept her voice steady. "I prevented that massacre. Every life lost at Halior Pass died fighting the invading clans. You all know this. You received my reports."
The captain of the guards swallowed hard. "Those reports were deemed falsified, General."
Selene stared at him, and he flinched.
Before she could respond, another set of footsteps echoed across the courtyard—calm, confident, and painfully familiar.
Her brother appeared.
Kael Varkos, dressed in deep blue robes embroidered with the royal crest. His hair was neatly tied, his posture straight, his expression carved from stone. He looked… different. Older. Colder.
Selene felt her heartbeat stutter. "Kael?"
He didn't smile. He didn't run to greet her like he used to when she returned from battle. He simply stood there, hands clasped behind his back, the posture of a man who had risen in rank.
"Selene," he said. His voice held no warmth. Only duty.
She couldn't hide the hurt flickering across her eyes. "You filed these charges?"
Kael looked away, just for a second. "I submitted the evidence. The council confirmed it."
"Evidence?" she echoed. "You saw what happened. You saw the bodies. You know I fought to protect—"
"The council believes," Kael cut in, "that you acted without orders. That you massacred civilians under the guise of war. That you seek too much power."
Selene stared at him, disbelieving. "You think I want the throne?"
His silence was answer enough.
A quiet gasp escaped her lips—more of heartbreak than shock. All her life, she had defended this kingdom, shed blood for it, sacrificed happiness, love, everything… only to be accused of craving what she never desired.
"Kael," she whispered, "I did this for you. For us. For our family's honor."
His jaw tightened. "And now I am doing what I must for mine."
At those words, something inside Selene cracked.
Guards moved closer, cautiously. The cleric cleared his throat. "General Varkos, you are ordered to surrender your weapons and submit to custody—pending formal trial."
Selene looked at the armed line, at their trembling hands. They feared her strength. That alone told her how deeply the lies had sunk into the palace.
Behind her, Rhys spoke urgently, "General, we will fight—"
"No." Selene raised her voice, commanding but soft. "No blood will be shed on my behalf."
"But—"
"That is an order, Captain."
Rhys's eyes shone with anger and desperation, but he obeyed. Her vanguard—loyal to her to their last breath—bowed their heads in anguish.
Selene slowly dismounted. Her boots touched the stone with the weight of betrayal pressing on her shoulders. She unbuckled her sword belt and held it out, the very blade that had defended the kingdom countless times.
The captain received it with trembling hands.
Chains were brought forward—heavy iron cuffs engraved with runes that suppressed strength and magic. Selene did not resist as they locked around her wrists.
But she lifted her chin.
She would not let them see her break.
As the guards began to lead her away, Kael stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
"I'm sorry," he murmured.
Selene blinked slowly, the only sign of the pain swirling within her. "No," she whispered back. "You're not sorry. But one day, Kael… you will be."
Her brother flinched—just slightly, but enough.
The guards pushed open the heavy doors leading to the palace dungeons. Cold air rushed out, smelling of stone, metal, and forgotten souls.
Selene took one last look at the courtyard—her soldiers struggling not to intervene, Rhys gripping his helmet so tightly his knuckles were white, the captain avoiding her gaze in shame, the cleric trembling as he clutched the decree.
All of them were witnesses to her fall.
But she knew the truth.
This was not the end of her story.It was the beginning of theirs.
As the iron doors slammed shut behind her, sealing her in darkness, Selene Varkos made a silent promise:
They will learn what happens when a kingdom betrays its own general.
And I will rise.