Third-person POV

Vale stared at Jella for a long moment after her last words settled in the air between them, and then, slowly, he began to laugh. It wasn’t a soft laugh or one filled with humor. It was rough, bitter, and carried something wicked underneath it, like he found the entire situation more amusing than anything else. The sound echoed lightly around the room, filling the silence in a way that made Jella’s jaw tighten almost immediately.

"You know," he said as his laughter died down, shaking his head slightly as he looked at her, "I never thought I’d see the day where you’d be this desperate."

Jella’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t interrupt him.

Vale took a slow step forward, his gaze locked on hers as he continued, "Tell me something, Jella... are you that scared of her?" His voice dropped slightly, more curious now, but still filled with that mocking edge. "Are you really so afraid of Electra that you had to come all the way here, stand in front of me, and try to threaten me into stopping her?"

The words hit exactly where he intended them to, but Jella didn’t flinch. She simply let out a quiet scoff, lifting her chin slightly as if the accusation meant nothing to her.

"You give yourself too much importance," she replied coldly. "I didn’t come here because I’m scared. I came here because I’m giving you a chance." She took a slow step closer to him, her eyes sharp and unwavering. "A chance you would be wise to take while I’m still being generous."

Vale raised a brow, clearly unimpressed.

Jella continued before he could respond, her voice steady and controlled, carefully masking everything she refused to let show. "You and your daughter are in no position to fight me," she said. "You may not realize it yet, but the situation you’re in is far worse than you think. The entire kingdom already sees her as a threat. They fear her, they hate her, and they will never accept her as their queen."

She paused briefly, watching his reaction before continuing. "But I," she added slowly, "am willing to be merciful."

That word felt out of place coming from her, and Vale’s lips twitched slightly, as if he was holding back another laugh.

"I’m offering you both a way out," Jella went on, ignoring his reaction. "If you do what I ask, if you stop her from even thinking about taking the throne, then I will let you both live. I will have you quietly removed from Elmeria and sent somewhere far away, to a kingdom where no one knows who you are. Somewhere you won’t be hunted, judged, or condemned."

Her tone softened just enough to make the offer sound real, even though there was still a cold edge under it.

"You’ll have your lives," she said. "Far away from all of this."

For a brief moment, the room fell silent, and Vale looked at her carefully, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t fear, or it was understanding, and that, more than anything else, made Jella uncomfortable.

He let out a quiet breath before speaking again, his voice calm now, almost too calm. "You’re trying very hard to sound in control," he said.

Jella’s expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes flickered.

Vale took another step closer, studying her face in a way that made it feel like he was seeing right through her. "You always did this," he continued. "You hide what you’re really feeling behind words, behind threats, behind that cold look on your face, but the thing is..." he paused slightly, his gaze dropping briefly to the burn on her cheek before returning to her eyes, "...I know you."

Jella’s jaw tightened.

"I know you just as much as you know me," Vale went on. "And right now, I can see it. Clear as day."

"See what?" Jella snapped, her patience beginning to slip.

"That you’re scared," Vale said simply.

The words landed heavier than anything else he had said so far.

Jella let out a sharp laugh, but it sounded forced and hollow. "You’ve finally lost your mind," she said. "I’m the one in control here. You’re the one who should be afraid."

Vale shook his head slowly, almost like he pitied her.

"No," he said quietly. "What’s been happening with Electra since I’ve been locked away... it’s enough to make you fear her. I can see it in the way you talk about her, in the way you’re standing here right now trying to get me to stop her instead of dealing with her yourself."

His eyes darkened slightly. "She has the upper hand," he added. "And you know it."

Jella’s smile faltered for just a second before she forced it back into place. "You’re reaching," she said quickly. "You always did like to imagine things that weren’t there."

Vale didn’t respond right away. Instead, his gaze shifted again, this time settling fully on the burn on her cheek.

"That mark on your face..." he said slowly. "Electra did that, didn’t she?"

Jella froze. For a split second, it was barely noticeable, but Vale saw it, and his eyes sharpened.

"She burned you," he said, his voice filled with certainty now. "Didn’t she?"

The room felt smaller all of a sudden.

Jella’s composure cracked, and anger flared up quickly to cover it. "Enough," she snapped sharply. "I didn’t come here to answer your questions."

She took a step closer, her eyes blazing with irritation. "I asked you something, Vale. Are you going to do what I want, or not?"

Vale stared at her for a moment, and then he laughed again. This time, there was no restraint. The sound was louder, harsher, and filled with open mockery as he looked at her like she was nothing more than a desperate woman grasping at control she no longer had.

"You really are pathetic," he said, shaking his head. "Look at you. Supposed queen of the most powerful kingdom, reduced to this... begging me to help you deal with your own fear."

"I am not begging..."

"You are," he cut in sharply. "You just don’t want to admit it."

Jella’s hands clenched at her sides.

Vale’s expression hardened, his voice dropping into something colder, something final. "I would rather die," he said, each word clear and firm, "than do anything you ask of me."

The words hit harder than any insult.

"And as for my daughter," he continued, a faint, almost proud smile forming on his lips, "if she wants the throne, then she should take it. She is the rightful heir, after all."

Something inside Jella snapped.

The anger she had been holding back broke through completely, flooding her chest and clouding her thoughts. For a moment, she didn’t speak. She didn’t even look at him. Her gaze shifted around the room instead, searching, restless, desperate for something she could use to release the storm building inside her, and then she saw it.

A decorative blade resting on a nearby table. Without thinking, she walked toward it.

Vale frowned slightly, watching her movements carefully. "What are you doing?" he asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

Jella didn’t answer. She picked up the blade, her fingers tightening around the handle as she turned back toward him. Her breathing had grown heavier now, uneven, and her eyes held something dangerous, something unsteady.

Vale’s expression darkened. "Jella," he said, his tone warning now, "don’t do something you can’t undo."

But she was already moving.

In a matter of seconds, she closed the distance between them, her movements fast and sudden, driven entirely by rage. Before Vale could react, before he could even step back, the blade plunged into his abdomen.

The sound that left him wasn’t a scream, it was a sharp, shocked breath, his eyes widening as the reality of what just happened hit him all at once.

Jella didn’t stop.

She pushed the blade in deeper, her hand trembling with force as she drove it into him, watching as his body gave in, as his strength failed him. Vale staggered backward, his hands instinctively reaching for her arm, but he was too weak, too slow.

Within seconds, he collapsed to the ground, and Jella stood over him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stared down at him, watching as the blood began to spread under him, dark and thick against the floor.

Vale’s breathing was uneven now, shallow, each breath weaker than the last, and yet...

He smiled.

It was faint and broken, but it was there. "Desperate..." he managed to say, his voice barely more than a whisper. "...bitch..."

A broken laugh followed, weak and strained, but still filled with that same mockery that had pushed her this far. Something inside Jella snapped again, and with a furious sound, she pulled the blade out and stabbed him again.

And again.

And again.

Each strike was fueled by rage, by fear, by everything she refused to admit out loud. The room filled with the sickening sound of the blade piercing flesh, over and over, until her hands were covered in blood, until her breath came in ragged gasps, until there was nothing left of the man beneath her but a lifeless body.

She didn’t stop until she couldn’t anymore.

When she finally stepped back, her entire body was shaking. Blood stained her hands, her clothes, and even her face, mixing with the burn on her cheek in a way that made her look almost unrecognizable.

Vale lay motionless on the floor.

Dead.

The silence that followed was deafening, and Jella stood there, staring at what she had done, her chest still rising and falling rapidly as the reality of it began to settle in, and yet, even in that moment...

Her fear didn’t go away.