It was torture.
Amy knew that the actual torment was felt by Lady Annabeth, but watching the burning spectacle in front of her, she could not help but wince and tense as though she felt the flames herself. I’m sorry, Lady Annabeth, I am so sorry.
The tears that rolled down the side of Amy’s face gushed like relentless rivers. She wanted to act, wanted to do something, but the steely grip of the new King on her wrist held her in place.
Wails of torment continued to fill the air as the red flames grew hotter and hotter. The ritual fire burned so hot it felt like a piece of the sun was in front of them.
A shiver began to crawl on Amy’s skin, starting from the small of her back up to her scalp. Her heart pounded like jackhammers and her breathing was labored. She turned her face away, una
