Matthias stared at him, fury churning like a trapped beast behind those obsidian-ringed eyes. He wanted to scream, to lash out against the sheer, cold injustice of it all, but Kyle's logic was a muzzle. It was all so perfectly, lethally rational—the kind of truth that didn't just hurt; it paralyzed.
"Fine," Matthias choked out, the word scraping against his locked jaw like flint. "As you wish. Thank you for the 'warning,' Your Highness. I'll deal with it."
Kyle gave a single, stiff nod—the precise, hollow gesture of a stranger—and turned for the door. He left behind a silence so thick it felt like a physical weight, a stagnant air tainted by the bitter stench of betrayal and the slow, rhythmic crawl of the rot within Matthias's own veins.
