Back to the present.

Edward's Shadow Knight barely had time to fully materialise before steel met shadow. The dark construct stepped between him and the charging elven soldier, its blade catching the strike at the last possible moment.

The clash echoed sharply across the palace steps.

"Borr! What are you—" Elarien began to shout, but the elven soldier cut her off before she could finish.

"It's their fault!" he screamed, his voice cracking with rage. "These damn humans! We let them into our city—and for what? So they could slaughter us? So they could stab us in the back?!"

Tears streamed down his face as his voice broke completely. His knees buckled beneath him, and he collapsed onto the stone steps, his sword slipping from his loosened grip and clattering uselessly to the ground.

Elarien froze, stunned by the sight.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice trembling as she stepped closer.

Before the soldier could answer, the massive doors leading into the royal palace swung open.

A dozen elven soldiers marched out in disciplined formation, their armour still stained with dried blood. One of them stepped forward, his expression rigid and cold.

"Lady Elarien," he said formally, "we have been instructed to seize this human. His Majesty has requested his presence at once."

As he spoke, the remaining soldiers fanned out, forming a tight circle around Edward. Their blades were drawn and held high, though their grips were tense rather than confident.

Edward's eyes moved across them slowly.

He saw fear behind their hardened expressions. Despite their attempts at composure, their hands trembled, ever so slightly. Their gazes flicked toward the streets behind them, as if expecting something to strike from the shadows at any moment.

"Lead the way," Edward said calmly.

Not because he couldn't summon an army of shadow soldiers and carve his way through them—but because he needed answers.

Moments later, they entered the throne room.

The elven king and queen sat upon their thrones, but they looked nothing like they had during Edward's last visit. Their expressions were rigid, their gazes sharp and accusing. A trace of hatred burned there—something that had not existed before.

As if Edward himself had betrayed them.

And perhaps, in their eyes, he had.

"Have you seen the aftermath of what you've done, human?" one of the royal advisors hissed.

The words ignited the room.

"Hang him for his crimes!"

"Cut off his head!"

"Make an example of him!"

Shouts erupted from all sides, voices overlapping until the chamber rang with fury. Edward stood still, his jaw tightening as accusations were hurled at him.

Then a sharp voice cut through the chaos.

"Quiet!"

The commander of the royal guard stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate obedience across the chamber.

"You stand in the presence of your king!" he roared, snapping everyone out of their hatred for humans.

Silence instantly filled the room.

Edward frowned slightly. He had never seen elves lose their composure like this—not even during times of battle. Yet remembering the carnage outside, he could not blame them. Had this been the human capital, their king would likely have ordered bloodshed without hesitation, killing anyone he saw fit.

Still, one question gnawed at him.

Why was their anger directed at him?

After a long, oppressive moment of eerie silence, the king rose from his throne.

Every elf in the chamber fell to their knees at once, heads bowed deeply.

"Leave us," the king said calmly.

Despite his composed tone, Edward noticed the king's fist clenched tightly at his side.

"Your Majesty—" one advisor began.

"Leave. Us."

The command was absolute.

Reluctantly, the advisors and guards withdrew without question.

Soon, only the king, the queen, the commander of the royal guard, Elarien, and Edward remained inside the throne room.

When the doors closed, the king spoke again.

"You were invited into our home," he said slowly. "Fed. Sheltered. Treated as a guest. And yet… you brought Crimson Oath to our doors."

Edward's thoughts spiralled.

Crimson Oath…?

The name echoed in his mind until realisation struck him like a blow.

'Seraphine…? No, it can't be…'

"Crimson Oath?" Edward repeated aloud.

"Do not play dumb, human," the king snapped. "I have no patience for your games. You brought that monster into our city."

"Your Majesty, I don't understand," Elarien interjected, desperation seeping into her voice.

The king's gaze shifted between Edward and Elarien several times before he continued.

"She slaughtered half of our soldiers," he said, his voice shaking. "She butchered civilians—innocents who never raised a weapon."

The king paused, his breath hitching.

"She killed my father…"

For the first time, the king's composure cracked. The mention of his father shattered his restraint, raw grief flashing across his pale face.

"Thyrion…?" Edward whispered, his eyes widening at the realisation. "Thyrion is dead?"

"Do not speak his name!" the king roared.

He turned sharply toward the commander.

"Caelthir. Take him away. Prepare him for execution tomorrow morning. Our people deserve justice."

"Your Majesty—!" Elarien shouted as she surged to her feet.

But it was too late.

The commander seized Edward and dragged him toward the exit. Edward did not resist. His thoughts were far too consumed by the king's words.

She slaughtered half our soldiers.

'Is he talking about Seraphine?'

It made no sense.

There was no reason for her to do such a thing. No motive. No cause.

And more than that—Seraphine was never capable of this.

The massacre he had seen was the work of something monstrously powerful. Far beyond the strength of the girl he knew.

So how?

His mind raced for answers, spiralling deeper and deeper until he barely noticed the transition into the lower levels of the palace.

The dungeon corridors stretched endlessly, lined with empty cells. Cold stone walls closed in around them. A faint mist formed at his mouth as he breathed.

They stopped before a single occupied cell.

Edward lifted his head.

Inside, seated against the far wall, was a familiar figure.

"Aeris?" he asked quietly, his eyes widening at the sight.

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