Night fell quickly over the kingdom, heavy and fast.
The torches blazed against the wind, casting long shadows on the stone walls of the execution yard. Lucas stood at the edge of the platform, his black cloak fluttering, his eyes fixed on the prisoner kneeling before him.
Atlas, once one of his trusted warriors was bloodied, beaten, but unbowed. Chains bound his wrists, and yet he held his head high, his silver eyes catching the firelight like steel.
“Any final words?” Lucas asked coldly, his voice slicing through the night.
Atlas chuckled bitterly. Blood spilled from the corner of his lips, but he didn’t waver. “Yes,” he rasped, staring directly at Lucas. “Draka will come for me. And he will kill you. Mark my words, Lucas. He’ll burn your kingdom to ash.”
Lucas’s jaw twitched, but h
