"You really have changed, my sister," he said, his gaze lowered as if the floor was more interesting than I was. "I used to think you were already kind of overbearing, but now you’ve taken it even further. You’re worse."

I never really thought of myself as overbearing. The word didn’t sit right in my head. I turned it over for a moment, trying to see it from his perspective, but it just didn’t stick. Maybe I was, just like he said. Maybe I had always been that way without realizing it. Still, it didn’t feel like something I could fully agree with.

"So why are you still dragging this out when the outcome is already obvious?" he continued, lifting his head slightly now, his eyes finally meeting mine. "Don’t tell me you’re backing out of what you said earlier. Are you really that weak-willed? You can’t even bring yourself to decide to kill me?"

There was a faint scoff under his breath before he went on.

"If that’s the case, then it just proves you don’t have any resolve. It proves you’re someone who can’t even handle the most basic decision. And you expect people to look at you as their King? When you can’t even make up your own mind?"

I held his gaze, steady, not looking away.

"I already made up my mind a long time ago to kill you," I said. My voice came out calm, more composed than I expected. "And what I’m planning to do... it’s going to hurt far more than anything you’ve ever experienced. It won’t be physical pain. It’ll be emotional. The kind that makes you wish you were dead. The kind that makes you beg for it."

"Try it," he said almost immediately, like he had been waiting for that. "Do you really think someone with the power of a god can be hurt emotionally? You can go ahead and try whatever you want. Nothing you do is going to work."

There wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in him. That confidence, or maybe arrogance, stayed completely intact.

I studied him quietly for a moment.

Killing him right here would’ve been easy. It would’ve ended everything without dragging it out. But that wasn’t an option. His scales were too thick. Not just physically, but in a way that went deeper than that. He had to be weakened first. Broken down to a point where those scales wouldn’t hold.

Leon had explained it to me before.

The scales of a Great One weren’t something you could just cut through. The stronger he felt, the stronger those scales became. Confidence, pride, power, all of it fed into that defense. So the only real way to deal with it was to strip that away from him. Break him emotionally. Push him far enough that his own strength would turn against him.

Once that happened, those scales would soften. Almost like cloth, Leon said. That was when it would be easy. That was when ending him would finally be possible.

So this wasn’t about killing him.

This was about preparing him to be killed.

After a short pause, I spoke again.

"The next time we see each other," I said, my voice quieter now, but heavier, "will be the last."

There was no need to say anything more than that.

That would be the day of his execution.

I turned my back on him and started walking away from the cell. My steps echoed faintly against the stone floor, the sound stretching out in the silence. He didn’t call out. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t even bother with a final remark.

That alone said enough.

After leaving Julius behind, I made my way deeper into the dungeon. The air grew heavier the further I went, damp and stale, like the walls themselves were holding onto everything that had happened here. This section was different. It held the insurgent groups. The ones who had planned the coup. Several factions were locked away here, all crammed into the same space, including the Silverblades.

"Is it finally time for us to meet our end, Princess?" one of them called out the moment I stepped into view.

His voice carried a rough edge, but there was a strange kind of humor in it. Like he was trying to make a joke out of his own situation.

I looked at him.

He was gaunt. Thin to the point where it was hard to ignore. His cheeks were slightly sunken, and there was a dullness in his eyes that came from not eating enough. Still, the way he stood told a different story. His posture was straight, shoulders back, like he refused to let his condition define him.

He must’ve been well-built before all this. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

I had given orders for them to be fed properly. They were prisoners, but they weren’t supposed to be starved.

Apparently, they had other ideas.

Refusing food just because it came from someone they hated. It sounded stubborn, maybe even stupid, but I couldn’t deny there was a certain pride in it.

Now that pride was costing them.

"It’s not," I answered.

"I see... well, that’s disappointing," he said, letting out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh. "Guess that means we’re stuck in here a few more days."

"That’s right," I replied. "Unfortunately."

I let my eyes move across the room.

They were all looking at me. Every single one of them. Some with faint smiles that didn’t reach their eyes, others with open hostility. None of them tried to hide it. The hatred was clear. Not just toward me, but toward everything I represented.

Royalty.

Authority.

Everything they had fought against.

"You all still have a chance," I said.

The words hung in the air for a moment.

One of them stepped forward slightly. He had a presence that made it obvious the others listened to him. If there was a leader here, it was probably him.

He looked at me like I had just insulted him.

"What kind of chance are you talking about?" he asked. "The kind where you offer us our lives if we kneel? Swear loyalty? Hand over whatever pride we’ve got left just to serve you?"

His tone wasn’t loud, but there was a sharp edge to it.

"Not the way you’re thinking," I said, keeping my voice steady. "That’s not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" he pressed.

I didn’t look away.

"What I mean is simple," I said. "Give me a chance. Let me prove myself. Let me show you that I’m not like the rulers before me. The ones who failed you. The ones who used you."

A quiet snort came from somewhere behind him.

It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be.

To them, it probably sounded like empty words. Something they had heard before, just said in a slightly different way.

"How are we supposed to believe that?" he asked. "What makes you any different from your father? What makes you think you won’t end up the same?"

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Or worse," he added. "Another one of those demons pretending to be human. Acting all proper while treating people like us as nothing more than tools."

There it was.

Distrust. Pure and simple.

He didn’t try to hide it. None of them did.

And honestly, I understood it.

They had lived under someone who used them without hesitation. Someone who saw them as expendable. After dealing with that for so long, words alone weren’t going to mean anything.

Still, that didn’t change what I had to do.