He gestured. Two masked figures emerged from the shadows, dragging a third—a man Lysandra barely recognized: the Royal Alchemist, her last loyal servant. His hands were gone, replaced by smoking stumps. He sobbed.
With the last strength in her poisoned body, she nodded once. Atrocious Empress BAD END -Final- -Sexecute-
Lysandra’s body convulsed. She vomited a torrent of black roses—thorny, blood-streaked, impossible. The roses writhed on the marble like dying eels. He gestured
But her eyes remained open. And for one more hour, the throne room was filled with a low, keening sound—not a scream, but the noise of a soul being slowly, meticulously, unmade from the inside. keening sound—not a scream
And at the foot of the dais stood Kaelen, the man she had broken first.