Chapter 25
King Zedekiel's eyes went cold. For him, the murder of his father and brother was still fresh. He could remember opening a box, the size of a big treasure chest, the humans sent them as a gift for peace, to find his father and brother's severed heads. Their faces frozen in horror and anguish, lifeless eyes staring back at him. The pain he felt at that moment was unimaginable. His fingers twitched, tiny sparks of silver dangerously dancing around the tips, showing his lack of control on his emotions. Rage and hatred stirred within him like a tremendous tornado. All he wanted was to strike down the dancer. How could he? What was he trying to gain by reminding them of that horrible day? It felt like a hot searing slap to his face. Like rubbing salt on an open wound. Who could be so heartles
- Writer
