I feel Lucian's hand grip mine even tighter, his knuckles turning white under his glove. Behind us, Grandpa Eldric, Kael, and Elena step closer, their already guarded postures shifting instantly into high alert.
My eyes snap back to Lioren. As the Imperial Knights force him to bow, pressing his neck against the cold execution stone, his lips begin to move. He murmurs something, his voice carrying an eerie, unnatural resonance.
"Aeshma varan daeva… fraorenti ashem elyra.
Vīspanam narem druj—ashavan… elyra vahishtem."
I do not understand a single word, yet a deeply unsettling, freezing feeling crawls over my entire body.
Suddenly, the whole plaza shimmers blindingly as massive protection spells erupt all at once. Lucian, Kael, Grandpa Eldric, the elite knights, the Emperor, and the High Sovereigns—everyone casts heavy defensive barriers with terrifying speed, shielding the balconies.
