The throne room was still smoking.
Windows shattered. Curtains torn. Dust filtered in through collapsed marble, painting every noble crest in shades of ruin.
Layton stood at the center.
His father lay in chains at his feet, bleeding, coughing, alive.
Vera entered, boots echoing across cracked stone. Behind her, Gauntlet and two guards dragged in the last surviving priest from the Trial of Flames.
“You," she said, coldly. “You ordered the fire."
The priest stammered. “It was divine will—"
Vera raised a hand. “Enough."
She stepped past him.
Her eyes met Layton's.
“Trial?" she asked.
He nodded. “He lives. You said justice."
“I did."
But her voice was distant. Her gaze had locked on the man in chains.
The man who murdered her mother.
The man who erased her name.
The Redfang Pat
