After the battle, Julius was shattered—not by wounds, but by humiliation.
The man who had once humiliated him as a prince had done it again, now as a king.
In the days that followed, he continued to wonder:
Where is Lyra?
How had Fox manipulated him so easily?
His use of criminals instead of soldiers meant one thing—Fox still had a powerful army in reserve.
One restless night, as Julius dozed off, a faint sound echoed in his room—footsteps.
It was the witch.
She approached silently, the magic seal in her hand. Without a word, she gently placed it on Julius's arm.
But Julius sensed danger. His instincts were alert.
He gripped her wrist tightly.
With cold, sharp eyes, he asked,
"Why?"
She stared at him and whispered,
"I didn't think you'd be so weak."
At that moment, Julius's heart throbbed with violent visions—imagining dozens of ways to kill her.
But his mind...
His mind reminded him:
He still needed her alive.
Days passed under a heavy cloud of caution inside the palace.
Julius, ever the watcher, began to notice something disturbing—the palace was growing darker.
Not in the light, but in the spirit.
The shadows whispered. The walls no longer seemed loyal.
He sat on his throne, no longer comfortable.
He now had an enemy who outsmarted him in intelligence and cunning.
He needed someone—anyone—he could trust. Someone who wasn't poisoned by ambition or deceit.
Finally, he said,"Bring me the gardener."