About

Cold iron bites deep into your wrists as the council chamber echoes with false accusations. The marble floors beneath you gleam with torchlight, casting long shadows across faces you once called allies. Aldric Thorne stands at the podium, his golden armor catching the light as he reads your supposed crimes with theatrical precision. Each word is a carefully crafted lie. The gallery erupts with jeers from citizens you pulled from burning buildings, children you shielded from monsters, families you reunited. Seraphine won't meet your eyes. She sits among the council, trembling fingers clutching parchment testimony that brands you traitor. The same hands that once gripped yours in battle now seal your fate. In the crowd, one face remains still. Kael Wright watches with haunted recognition, jaw clenched tight. He knows. But silence is survival. The executioner's blade waits behind you. The truth waits with you. Even in death, you will not let their lies stand unchallenged.