They left the prison in silence, the weight of death still clinging to them. The air in those lower halls had been heavy with the stench of decay and finality, and even as the door closed behind them, the image of the shriveled king lingered in their minds. Lilith's hands shook faintly beneath her cloak, her father's last words echoing in her chest, while Zero walked beside her with the grim steadiness of one carrying another's burden. Yet the palace did not allow them time to mourn—the corridors that stretched before them pulsed with faint red veins of light, oppressive and watchful, as though the walls themselves sought to remind them that grief had no place here.
The palace corridors were suffocating in their silence.
