Silence.
The entire hall was shrouded in a strange silence.
Not the peaceful kind but the dreadful one, suffocating silence that swallows sound and tightens the air around your chest. It fell like a shroud over the grand corridor, wrapping around every being present like a ghostly hand gripping their throats.
No one moved. No one dared to. They were not afraid because of the Supre Lord’s passing—but because of Cassian.
A re human. And he had done the unthinkable. He had looked directly into the Supre Lord’s eyes. He was challenging the authority of the Supre Lord.
His gaze hadn’t faltered, hadn’t dipped with fear or reverence. No, he had stared—openly, boldly—as blood trickled down from the edge of the twin swords pressed at his throat.
Cassian remained kneeling, spine straight, his expression unreadable. But inside—his chest was a battlefield. His heart pounded against his ribs like it was trying to escape the storm brewing around him.
Yet, still, he didn’t looked away.
Around him, the nobles—ethereal fae, dragon-blooded royals, and cloaked concubines—stared in frozen disbelief. Their expressions twisted sowhere between shock and horror.
So whispered, so didn’t even breathe.
To look directly at the Supre Lord without permission... It wasn’t just arrogance.
It was blasphemy.
It was as if Cassian had spat on the altar of an ancient god.
Even the high-ranking concubines, dressed in layers of shimring silks and golden veils, looked at him with wide eyes, like he had set fire to the very foundations of their glittering world. Their perfectly painted lips curled into sharp smiles—cruel and eager.
They weren’t concerned.
They were curious. Hungry for the scene to unfold.
Like vultures circling a fresh kill.
One concubine murmured with thinly veiled glee, "This one has no idea what he’s just done."
Another smirked, tilting her head like she was watching a stage play, "Watch. There won’t even be bones left when they’re done."
But another gaze ca not from the nobles or the courtiers—but from soone Cassian had thought of as a friend.
Veyce.
Veyce stared at Cassian, slack-jawed, as if soone had thrown ice water over his head. Then, slowly, he closed his eyes. His features softened—not with relief, but with resignation.
"Why’d you have to be stupid," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for the marble to hear.
The look he gave Cassian was not that of betrayal—but of grief.
There goes another friend, it said. I’ll have to drink alone tonight.
Cassian felt all of it.
The weight of every gaze.
The faint pain brought the guards’ blades digging into the soft skin of his neck.
The subtle sting of warm blood trickling down his collarbone.
But he didn’t flinch.
He didn’t tremble.
He didn’t look away.
Because sothing deep inside him refused to bow.
A flickering mory—unclear, but real—clung to him like a shadow. It whispered of recognition. Of those sa cold eyes once looking at him not with indifference, but with sothing close to devotion.
Sothing sacred.
That mory kept his gaze steady.
And yet—what shattered him wasn’t the pain or the blood.
It was what ca next.
Nothing.
The Supre Lord didn’t speak.
Didn’t strike.
Didn’t even blink.
He simply... turned away.
As if Cassian were not even worth the effort of punishnt.
As if he were no more than dust on the floor.
And just before he disappeared into the archway, he gave the faintest nod to the guard still holding his sword against Cassian’s throat.
No words were needed—but everyone in the corridor felt it like thunder under their skin. And then... the Supre Lord was gone.
His figure vanished through the pale veil of crystal and firelight, leaving the corridor feeling colder and emptier than before.
Only then—only then—did the guards step back.
Their blades hissed softly as they were sheathed in practiced, rciless rhythm.
Shhkk.
The collective breath of the crowd burst free like a dam breaking.
The dragon duchess wiped a beaded drop of sweat from her temple. A fae prince loosened his jaw, as though only now realizing how tightly it had been clenched.
One concubine whispered shakily, "He’s lucky..."
Another, face pale, corrected, "No. We are."
Because they knew.
If the Supre Lord had been truly angered...
It wouldn’t have been only the human who died.
The entire corridor might have been reduced to ash. No title. No bloodline. No beauty could have saved them.
Cassian remained kneeling for another mont, as if waiting to be struck from behind.
But nothing ca.
He slowly rose, knees aching, blood drying sticky on his throat. His hands hung limp at his sides, but his head—his head did not bow.
He turned, ready to disappear into the nearest shadow.
He didn’t want to be seen for another second. But fate had other plans.
A firm voice called out behind him, calm but edged with command.
"You. Follow ."
It was the sa guard who had almost taken his life just monts ago.
Cassian didn’t speak. He simply nodded and stepped forward, his steps heavy, yet steady.
The crowd parted without a word. No one dared touch him. But their gazes burned against his skin.
So watched with pity. Others with disdain. So couldn’t stop staring—as though trying to decide if he was bold... or simply insane.
But most just looked scared. Because if the Supre Lord had spared him...That ant he had chosen sothing else. And that sothing might be worse.
A few concubines muttered soft prayers in their native tongues.
One pressed a crystal talisman to there forehead. Another made a warding sign against her silk sleeve.
Veyce watched Cassian’s back disappear into the shadows of the palace hallway. He rubbed a hand over his face, then let out a long, tired breath.
"Guess that’s the end of that," he murmured. "Should’ve taught him how to keep his eyes on the floor."
A faint, hollow smile ghosted over his lips, but it faded quickly.
Because even he wasn’t sure if Cassian would co back.
Reviews
All reviews (0)