Feet pattered through the hallway, each step echoing softly against the cold stone walls. The flickering torchlight cast long, wavering shadows as the figure approached the chamber door. A hand, calloused from years of hard work and worn with age, reached out to grasp the iron handle, hesitating for a brief moment. This was no ordinary night, and the thoughts swirling in his mind were anything but innocent.
Gareth, a once-loyal servant to the crown, had been driven to this point by a simmering resentment that had grown over years of observing the king’s rule. He had seen the kingdom change, watched as the people’s smiles turned into frowns, their hopes dashed against the rocky cliffs of tyranny. The king, once a man of honor, had become a shadow of his former self, a puppet master pulling
