The square was still heavy with silence after the witches vanished. The crowd had not dispersed. Some stared at Liam with awe, others with doubt.
“They brought this on us,” one man muttered.
“No,” another hissed, “the boy king did. Blood calls blood.”
Damian raised his hand, silencing the rumble. “Enough. Go to your homes.” His voice cut through the night like steel.
Reluctantly, they scattered. The council quickly followed Liam into the great hall, their steps sharp, their whispers louder than they dared admit.
“You promised peace. Instead, you’ve woken forces we cannot fight.”
Lady Yera’s voice was colder. “Alyas might have been spared. A chain instead of a grave. But you—” she gestured sharply— “you chose to end a bloodline. Now the West answers with curses.”
Damian stepped forwa
