We’re here. And I’m never leaving your side.
He broke the kiss, eyeing her with something intense.As if my little blade has a choice? You are mine, Sin. I won’t lose you again. Not to them, not to anyone..
She smiled broadly at his possessiveness, threading her fingers through his hand, and immediately, the reality of the room sunk their happiness underwater.
The queen’s hands trembled as they reached for Gideon’s body, her breath hitching in a strangled sob that echoed through the cold halls. Her face twisted—a blend of rage, sorrow, and desperation—as she hesitated, unable to bear the weight of her child, even in death.
Max struggled for her, but Oliver held his hand up and aided her. Despite his own pain, Oliver moved to carry Gideon’s body, his face set with determination as silent tears traced paths through the grime on his cheeks.
Sin wasn’t certain if she was believing what she was seeing, but that didn’t warrant forgiveness.
The Queen straightened, ready to lead the way when serpentine soldiers filled the hall. When they stepped out of the cell, they lined up, creating a path for her, for them, the queen stood there frozen, clenching her fists like she was mentally preparing for this walk she never wanted to make.
Soldiers wiped their blades and raised them, forming a tunnel. She took the first step, and her shoulders shook with sadness for the preview to the funeral’s walk, and march to the throne.
The soldiers at the end left their positions to aid Sin and Max to walk, but one hand reached for Sin, and Max was snarling viciously. Though he could barely stand himself, he refused for anyone else but him to help her.
Sin rolled her eyes at Max’s stubborn growl, but a pang of warmth twisted in her chest. Even now, weakened and barely able to stand, he still tried to protect her.
They hobbled through, and one slip through the blood had a soldier helping Sin, ignoring Max’s growls.
“Thank you,” Sin said softly to her, and gave Max a look of warning.
The silence of the castle was suffocating, broken only by the whispered prayers of those hoping for mercy and the slick, unsettling squelch of blood beneath their feet.
Even the kingdom’s soldiers who kneeled, surrounded by serpentine soldiers standing guard around them, were silently waiting for their fate to be decided.
The queen halted as her gaze found them, dozens of them gathered together, staring at the floor in her presence.
She looked to the officer stepping towards her.
“Your highness, the soldiers you see gathered here, they aided in the escort bravely. We wished to leave their fate to you.”
She walked right past him, not caring about any of that. Not when she had a dead son being carried behind her.
He bowed at her retreating form.
They continued to lead a path for them, for her, all the way to the throne room.
In between the soldiers surrounding them, Sin could see the floor was a patchwork of death—limbs twisted at unnatural angles, faces frozen in expressions of terror. The stench of decay mixed with blood hung thick in the air, clinging to Sin’s senses as she stepped through the remnants of the fallen, their vacant eyes staring into oblivion.
The Iostrian serpentine soldiers stood motionless, but their eyes seemed to glimmer with an unnatural light—almost reptilian, as if something ancient and cold lurked beneath their helmets.
Sin shivered, feeling the castle around her, the very stones beneath her feet, pulse in time with the queen’s labored breaths, as if the fortress itself had been brought back to life under her rule.
As they approached the throne, the silence grew heavier. So manywhat ifsandwhat nowslingering in their minds.
The queen paused before the dais, her eyes fixed on the throne that once symbolized power and authority, now a seat of grief and vengeance.
She stood before the throne, staring at it silently before she turned around, facing the people pouring into the room.
Everyone silently waited for whatever she was about to say or do.
A few of the other king’s witches rushed in with cots and supplies, and just like that, the throne room turned into a sanatorium.
“You,” the queen called, pointing at the witch who was directing the others. “Come here.”
A soldier led her forward. She shivered violently, her eyes darting around the room as if looking for a way out. She swallowed hard, her throat visibly tightening, and when her gaze finally met the queen’s bloodstained face, her body seemed to shrink into itself.
