The words rang sharp through the chamber, but Aragon did not flinch. His smirk returned, thin and cutting.
Then chaos erupted. The hall became a storm of screams and steel. Mothers clutched their children, shielding them as the last Petro men and their knights raised their blades for one final stand. Their fury was hopeless, but fierce—the defiance of a cornered beast.
From the shadows, Lara, Alaric, Gideon, and Percival emerged. They did not join the slaughter; this was not their fight. Instead, they moved swiftly, guiding the women and children away from the bloodshed, ushering them into a side chamber where their sobs and cries blended into a haunting chorus that drowned out the clang of steel.
