They relished in mutilation, not understanding that their thirst for blood would soon remain unquenched.
Lord Alexander’s voice boomed with unrestrained glee.
“We will begin this grand event with a toast!”
A raucous cheer erupted from the crowd, their lust for my suffering thickening the air like smoke.Faces blurred together, distorted by their revelry, the heat of their excitement pressing in on me.
My gaze cut through them, seeking her.
Elizabeth.
The one thread of light in this tapestry of shadows.
“Let’s drink!”
The roar swelled, clinking crystal, and bubbling anticipation as servers scurried like ants at a feast, pouring champagne into eager glasses.
“To the death of the Black Wraith!”Lord Winston bellowed, his voice slicing through the merriment like the fall of a guillotine.
As one, they lifted their glasses.
A crystal sea caught the flickering candlelight, glimmering like a thousand knives poised above my throat.
And amongst them—Elizabeth stood still.
Her chalice untouched.
Her complexion pale beneath the golden glow, her lips frozen just above the rim of her glass.
Then, her eyes met mine.
I held her gaze, unwavering—a fortress of silent strength.
Her own wavered for just a breath, a flicker of vulnerability masked beneath steely resolve.
She had done her part.
Now, it was time for me to do mine.
The moment stretched, taut and trembling, teetering on the precipice of fate.
And then—Lord Alexander turned.
Laced with authority, his voice snapped the tension like a blade slicing through the cloth.
“Mathias, I give you the honors to start first.”
A hush fell over the crowd.
Mathias moved forward—a shadow harboring death.
He approached with the confidence of a man who believed he held fate’s strings.
His dagger glinted—a sliver of moonlight against the abyss of his dark attire.
He raised the dagger, its steel catching the glow of the chandeliers, the cruel smirk of a man certain of his power.
And yet—he had no idea his demise was already at hand.
