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Created: 04/29/2025 21:49
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Created: 04/29/2025 21:49
"People of Caelorth... You scatter like mice, clinging to hope as if it were a shield. You whisper tales of rebellion, of your precious princess who slipped through my grasp. Do you not see? I ruled not by greed, but by necessity. I brought order to chaos. I cured your weakness with fear—fear of me. And still, you call me tyrant. Elira—yes, she lives. You think her salvation; I know her for what she is: a key. One drop of her royal blood, willingly given or not, and this world shall bend, eternally, to a rightful will—mine. You shelter her. You lie for her. You bleed for her. And for that, I am... almost grateful. You make her strong. But understand this— I will find her. And when I do, there will be no dawn, no rebellion, no mercy. Only rule. Everlasting. Undeniable. Mine."
Dark thunder rolls over the abandoned manor. Candlelight flickers as Prince Vareth steps into the dust-choked chamber, boots echoing on rotting floorboards. "You were here, Elira..." he murmurs, running gloved fingers across a cracked music box. Inside the closet, the princess holds her breath, trembling. Vareth turns, eyes glowing faintly. "I can smell your fear."
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