Third-person POV

Jella had never liked waiting, but in that moment, the slow passage of time felt unbearable in a way she had never experienced before. Every second that ticked by was taking much longer than it should have, and the silence around her only made it worse. She stood among the gathered guards and officials with her posture straight and her expression carefully controlled, but right under that calm exterior, everything inside her was unraveling.

She knew she had no choice but to allow the bodies to be brought out, especially now that Electra had made it clear she wanted to see everything for herself. Refusing again would only draw more attention, and the last thing Jella needed was to give anyone a reason to doubt her and start to question her intentions since everyone expected her to hate Vale, which she did. She knew she couldn’t keep talking about protecting a dignity he didn’t have, so she couldn’t stop the bodies from being brought out.

The decision had already been made, and yet, standing there while waiting for the bodies to arrive felt like a punishment she couldn’t escape from. Her breathing had become uneven, though she tried her best to hide it, and there was a tightness in her chest that refused to ease. It felt like her heart had climbed into her throat, beating so loudly that she was certain someone would notice if they stood close enough.

The thought of seeing the two bodies again, the very ones she had personally made sure would never speak again, twisted her stomach in a way that made her feel sick. It wasn’t guilt that unsettled her. It was fear. Pure, undeniable fear at the thought of everyone finding out that she was the killer.

Her mind kept replaying the same thought over and over again, refusing to let her find peace even for a moment. What if something went wrong? What if Electra really could do something unnatural, something impossible? She had seen what that girl was capable of. She had felt it firsthand when her skin burned under Electra’s touch. That had not been hard for her in the slightest, and Jella knew it. So if Electra could do something like that so easily, then what else could she do?

Jella swallowed hard, her fingers curling slightly at her sides as she tried to steady herself. She could feel the sweat gathering at the back of her neck, despite the cool air around her, and it made her skin crawl. She hated this feeling. She hated the loss of control, the uncertainty, and the way everything suddenly felt like it was slipping out of her hands. She had worked too hard for too long to allow something like this to destroy everything she had built.

The wait dragged on for what felt like forever, though in reality, it was only about ten to fifteen minutes. Even so, those minutes felt endless, and by the time the guards finally returned, Jella felt like she was barely holding herself together.

The bodies arrived in a way that felt almost mocking in its simplicity. King Vale’s body had been placed in a plain, ordinary-looking coffin, one that looked far too simple for someone who had once been king. There was no grandeur, no dignity, just a box meant to contain what was left of him. Beside it, the servant’s body had been wrapped carelessly in what looked like a straw mat, her form barely concealed under the rough covering.

The contrast between the two was stark, but neither of them looked alive, and that was the only thing that mattered to Jella.

Electra stepped forward without hesitation, her presence immediately drawing the attention of everyone around her. The murmurs that had started among the reporters grew louder, their curiosity obvious as they watched her closely, trying to understand what she was about to do. She didn’t acknowledge them. Her focus was entirely on the bodies in front of her.

"Place them here," she said, her voice calm but firm as she gestured toward the podium.

The men carrying the bodies obeyed without question, carefully setting the coffin and the wrapped body where she indicated. The reporters leaned in closer, their cameras shifting slightly as they tried to capture every detail, their voices blending into a low hum of confusion and anticipation. No one seemed to understand what was happening, but that only made them more eager to see what would come next. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Electra moved toward the coffin first, her steps steady, her expression unreadable. She stopped beside it and looked down for a moment before speaking again, her tone leaving no room for hesitation. "Open it," she instructed, her eyes lifting briefly to the men who had brought it.

They exchanged a quick glance but did as they were told, carefully lifting the lid and setting it aside. The moment the coffin opened, Electra’s gaze fell on her father’s face once again, and just like before, that same sharp pain struck her chest without warning. It made her pause, her body stilling as she tried to steady herself, her hand hovering for a brief moment before she forced herself to continue.

She placed her hand gently over his body, her fingers resting against the fabric that covered him, and then she closed her eyes.

At first, nothing happened.

To the people watching, it looked almost too simple, too quiet to mean anything. She stood there with her hand on the body, her eyes closed, her expression calm, and for a moment, it almost seemed pointless. The murmuring in the crowd grew louder, whispers passing from one person to another as they tried to make sense of what they were seeing.

"Is she really trying to raise the dead?" one of them whispered.

"That’s impossible," another replied, though there was doubt in their voice.

"She’s not normal," someone else added quietly.

The words were mixing together, forming a low, restless noise that filled the space, but Electra didn’t react to any of it. She remained still, focused, as if she were completely detached from everything around her. In truth, she didn’t fully understand what she was doing either. There was no clear thought guiding her actions, no memory telling her how to do this, and yet, there was something deeper, something instinctive that made her certain that this was possible.

She knew it. Just like she knew that once this was done, her father’s body would not remain the same. She knew that whatever she was about to do would come at a cost, and that cost would be final, but it didn’t matter. Not right now.

After a while, she opened her eyes, and the change was immediate.

A subtle shift at first, but noticeable enough that the crowd reacted almost instantly. Her eyes seemed brighter, not glowing in a dramatic way, but different enough to make people uneasy. The murmuring grew louder again, more urgent this time, as they watched her step away from the coffin.

She moved toward the servant’s body next, her steps just as steady as before. Without hesitation, she placed her hand over the wrapped form, closing her eyes once more as she repeated the same action. The room fell into a strange kind of silence again, broken only by the faint whispering of the crowd and the occasional shifting of feet as people tried to get a better view.

Jella stood among them, completely frozen.

Her heart was racing now, faster than before, each beat loud enough that she could feel it in her ears. She couldn’t look away, even though every instinct in her body told her to. She wanted this to be nothing. She needed this to be nothing. She needed all of this to be some kind of meaningless display, something that would end without consequence, but the longer Electra stood there, the harder it became to believe that.

Time stretched again, each second dragging into the next, and the tension in the room grew heavier with every passing moment. The reporters shifted restlessly, their patience thinning, their confusion turning into anticipation as they waited for something to happen.

And then it did.

A sharp gasp broke through the silence, and it came from the coffin.

For a moment, no one moved. No one spoke. The sound stayed in the air, unreal and impossible, and then suddenly, everything exploded into chaos.

King Vale’s eyes opened.

It happened so quickly that it took a second for anyone to fully process it. His body moved almost immediately after, his chest rising as he drew in a breath, and then he sat up. The movement was sudden, unnatural, and completely wrong in a way that sent a wave of fear through everyone watching.

The reporters reacted first.

They stumbled back, their composure breaking completely as they tried to put distance between themselves and what they were seeing. Some of them shouted, others simply stared in disbelief, their cameras shaking as they struggled to keep focus on the impossible scene in front of them.

A dead man had just come back to life, and no one could believe their eyes.