The Silence After Power
When everyone finally left, when the last echo of boots and fabric vanished down the stone corridor, Leon stood alone in the court.
The heavy doors slid shut behind his people with a low, dragging thud — a sound that felt like the walls sealing him inside his own thoughts.
For a moment, he didn't move.
He simply stared at those closed doors, watching the final sliver of light die between them.
The torchlight flickered across the hall, crawling over the polished stone and the tall pillars that framed his throne like silent sentinels.
He inhaled, a slow and a deep.
The air tasted of scorched earth.
The remnants of the land a burned under the night — the marks of his past clashes still living in the soil. Even inside the court, he could feel it. That faint heat. That memory of lightning cutting through sky and land.
He closed his eyes.
Being king…
People think it's a crown and a seat.
But the weight — gods, the weight of the sits right on your chest.
