he black marble floor chilled their knees.In the throne room of the Flavia palace, silence reigned. Even the torches, arranged in a circle around the vast hall, seemed to burn without sound. The air was thick—dense with ash, with expectation… and with betrayal.
Two figures knelt there.Bound.Inexplicably dignified.
A man. A woman.Both clad in simple gray tunics. No jewelry. No sign of rank.Yet in their posture, there was more nobility than in the entire assembly of high-ranking officials standing around them.
The woman was of average height, her black hair tied back in a low ponytail, her eyes as sharp as they had been in her greatest battles. Her gaze did not waver. It defied.She did not tremble. She still burned—silently.
The man, slightly older, calm and steady, breathed like a rock. His hand brushed hers gently behind their bound backs. They said nothing. But in that fragile contact, an entire world passed between them.
They knew.They knew the hour had come.They knew they would not leave this room alive.
And still—they knelt tall.As if they were the ones passing judgment.
On the throne's steps, the King of Flavia rose slowly.His features were hard. Expressionless.He wore no ceremonial armor, no crown—only a long crimson cloak, embroidered with black thread, cascading like a river of blood down the cold steps.
He descended one step.Then another.Each footfall echoed like a verdict.
Behind him, ministers, generals, and advisors remained silent.Some averted their eyes. Others watched, stone-faced.They all knew why they were here.But none seemed ready to accept the consequence.
"You have betrayed us."
The king's voice was dry. Not angry. Just… factual.As if announcing the weather.
"Not with your actions. But with your proximity.With what you have seen.With what you have understood."
The Minister of Defense stepped forward."You crossed the line. The Kingdom cannot tolerate those who look behind the curtain."
The woman, still kneeling, replied in a clear voice:
"We gave everything. Every mission. Every breath. Every sleepless night."
She locked eyes with the king."If seeing the truth is a crime, then we are guilty.But we were never your enemies."
The king said nothing.
A long silence followed.
Then he descended the final step.Now, he stood before them.
"You saw beyond the lies we call peace.And you understood things even my children do not know."
He paused, turning to the man."You have a son. An infant. A future.And that is precisely why… you must disappear."
A chill swept the room.Some ministers exchanged glances.But no one spoke.
The man raised his head—for the first time.
"Don't take his memories from him.Let him know who we were.What we sacrificed."
The king stared at him for a long moment, almost with regret.
"He will carry neither your burden… nor your secrets.He will be… pure."
Two executioners stepped forward.Black hoods. Broad shoulders.Plain swords—no ornament.
The torchlight gleamed off the steel.
They were of the royal order.They had no names.Only a duty.
They drew their blades.
The woman leaned toward her companion, their shoulders bound together.
"Keep your eyes closed.I'll find you on the other side."
"Still giving orders—even at the end," he murmured.
She smiled. A real smile. A final one.
They closed their eyes together.
The executioners raised their swords.
Everything slowed.Heavy.Time seemed suspended.
The metal sliced the air with a long, sharp, inevitable hiss.
Then—two dull impacts.Two bodies fell.Together.
The king did not move.Only the flames in the torches flickered, as if honoring their departure.
Far below in the palace, in a windowless room, a baby was crying.Two mages worked swiftly, preparing a pale blue potion.
They approached with a thin needle and injected it into the baby's forehead.The child squirmed, cried… and then fell asleep.
His memories—erased.His roots—ripped away.
And outside, in the streets of Flavia, a warm wind blew that day.For no reason.As if even the air remembered those the world wished to forget