My soul hovered high above, watching this belated performance of remorse with a cold, detached gaze.
Two weeks later, in Valdoria's largest Gothic cathedral, Alexander held my most extravagant funeral. The entire hall was blanketed in white roses, my favorite.
He, Richard, and Victor, once untouchable heirs to towering empires, had become little more than living shells.
Alexander's hair had gone white, his body reduced to skin and bone. Richard's face was half-covered in scars from his own blows, his expression blank and hollow. Victor had thick bandages wrapped around his forehead, his eyes completely void.
They stood without moving before my golden coffin. Then, with a deafening crash, the massive gate was shattered open. A military armored vehicle burst through the century-old carve
