Celeste’s main hall was a grand place of shadows and power. Men who controlled empires with words and deals made with blood were there. The air smelled of expensive perfume, old wine, and something darker—something rotten under the fancy setting.
I stood in the middle, without my weapons but still defiant. Everyone in the room—warlords, politicians, men whose names were feared—watched me. They waited, sensing the moment before I would give in.
Celeste sat on her throne, wearing a red silk dress, the color of blood and winning. Her dark eyes watched me with the same kind of amusement a cat has when it plays with its food.
"You have two choices, Caden," she said, her voice smooth like poisoned honey. "Join me, become powerful in the Guild... or rot and be forgotten."
The room was silent.
