And the council chamber, once a place of debate, became something else entirely.
A net tightening.
Time itself seemed to thicken.
Because while the accused were being hunted, the council waited. Listening.
Names continued. Some whispered. Some screamed. One captive sobbed while confessing. Another begged Thessian not to kill him as he recited everyone he could think to betray.
The sunlight shifted as the hours pressed from late morning toward afternoon, the gold moving slowly across the floor until it touched the lower steps of Thessian's seat itself, illuminating bloodstains no one could ignore.
And then....
The doors opened again.
Not once.
Again.
And again.
Each time with guards dragging someone in.
First, Darius Thorne. Still in ceremonial robes, one sleeve torn where he had fought arrest. Thrown to the floor.
Then Elder Caelum. Pale. Speechless.
Then Lady Seris. Hair disordered, dignity stripped, dragged hard enough across stone to leave red at her wrists.
