Deep within the gloomy palace, the Emperor’s bedchamber was illuminated by a massive display of candles. The Emperor lay on his couch, gasping for air, his face the color of parchment as he watched his eldest son—the boy he had raised since birth—sharpening a sword under the flickering light with an eerie, sinister air.
He was exhausted, unable to find a moment of peace throughout the night. Every time he drifted into a light nap, the piercing, abrupt sound of metal against stone would ring out, feeling as though it were carving his skull open.
He jerked awake, his eyes snapping open to the sight of the blade, gleaming with a blinding, harsh light.
Chapter 221