The capital greeted them not with cheers but with silence. Soldiers marched Rowan through the streets in chains, his smirk gone, his eyes hollow. People lined the avenues, watching as if the procession were a funeral. Some spat as he passed, others turned away, unwilling to look.
Kael rode behind, Tharos's wings folded tight against his sides. The beast's presence drew murmurs, but Kael barely heard them. Victory at the western plains had been real, yet it felt fragile. Rowan's betrayal was more than a wound it was a shadow that stretched all the way to the Emperor's court.
Inside the throne room, nobles crowded shoulder to shoulder, their silken robes rustling like restless wings. The Emperor sat high upon his seat, his gaze sharp as a blade. Rowan was dragged forward, chains clinking against the marble floor.
"Rowan of the Iron Legion," the Emperor declared, his voice echoing through the hall. "You stand accused of treason against the Empire. Speak."
Rowan lifted his head, his voice steady despite the chains. "I did not betray the Empire. I betrayed a lie. You place your faith in a peasant with a beast, and you call it salvation. I call it ruin."
Gasps rippled through the hall. Some nobles nodded, others recoiled.
Kael stepped forward, his voice firm. "Rowan drew his blade against me, not the rebels. He sought my death in the midst of battle. That is treason, not doubt."
Rowan's smirk flickered back, faint but defiant. "And if I had succeeded, the Empire would be spared the fire you carry."
Garrick limped forward, his scarred face grim. "I fought beside Kael. I saw Rowan's blade turn against him. This was no act of caution. It was betrayal, plain and true. If the Empire cannot see that, then it is already broken."
The Emperor's gaze lingered on Garrick, then shifted back to Kael. "You speak with conviction. But conviction is not proof. The court must decide."
The hall erupted in voices. Some nobles cried for Rowan's execution, others for mercy. Some demanded Kael be stripped of command, others called him the Empire's only hope. Kael stood silent, the storm swirling around him. He felt the weight of every word, every accusation. He was no longer judged by soldiers alone. He was judged by the Empire itself.
Tharos stirred outside the hall, his ember eyes glowing through the open doors. The beast's presence silenced the whispers for a moment, awe and fear mingling in the air.
At last, the Emperor raised his hand, and silence fell. His voice carried like steel. "Rowan is guilty of treason. His life is forfeit."
Rowan's smirk vanished, replaced by a flicker of fear. Guards dragged him away, his chains clinking against the marble.
The Emperor's gaze turned to Kael. "You have endured betrayal. You have carried men through fire. Yet you remain untested in loyalty to the throne. You will march again, not for survival, but for the Empire's will. Prove yourself, and the court will name you commander. Fail, and you will be cast aside."
The nobles dispersed, their whispers trailing like smoke. Garrick placed a hand on Kael's shoulder. "The storm is not over. Rowan's fall will not silence the court. They will watch you closer now, waiting for you to stumble."
Kael nodded, his jaw tight. "Then I will not stumble."
Outside, Tharos spread his wings, ember light spilling across the courtyard. Kael looked up at the beast, feeling the weight of expectation pressing down on him. He was no longer fighting rebels or traitors. He was fighting the Empire itself.
And in that moment, he understood: the fire that never dies was not only his burden. It was his weapon.