The cold iron of the shackles dug into my wrists, their weight a cruel reminder of my fall from grace. I knelt on the damp stone floor of the dungeon, the air thick with the stench of mold and despair. Torches flickered along the walls, casting long shadows over the faces of the guards who stood watch. They did not speak, nor did they meet my gaze. It was as if I had already ceased to exist.
A week ago, I was the Archmage of the Imperial Court, a man whose mere name commanded respect. A week ago, I was the most trusted advisor to the Emperor, the one who had expanded our kingdom's knowledge of magic and warfare. A week ago, I was untouchable.
Now, I was nothing more than a condemned traitor.
The accusations had come swiftly. Treason. Conspiracy. Forbidden magic. Words spoken in hushed voices by those who once sang my praises. My disciples, my allies—each one had turned away as the court declared me guilty. The Emperor, a man I had served for decades, had not even granted me a chance to defend myself.
No, the verdict had been decided long before the trial had begun.
A sharp creak echoed through the chamber as the heavy doors swung open. Footsteps followed, slow and deliberate, until they halted before me. I did not need to look up to recognize the presence. The scent of sandalwood and wine clung to his robes.
"Lucien Velkaris," the voice was soft, almost sorrowful. "It didn't have to end this way."
I raised my head to meet the eyes of my executioner—Regent Aldric Valstane. Once my closest friend, now my betrayer.
"You and I both know I never plotted against the Empire," I said, my voice hoarse from days without water.
Aldric's expression remained unreadable. "Your magic was too powerful, Lucien. The Emperor feared what you could become."
I let out a dry laugh. "And so he let you orchestrate this farce? Tell me, Aldric, was it worth it?"
A flicker of something—regret?—crossed his features. Then, just as quickly, it was gone. "The execution is set for dawn."
With those final words, he turned and walked away, leaving me in the darkness once more.
Morning came too soon. The sun had barely begun its ascent when I was dragged from my cell, my legs too weak to resist. The execution ground was silent, a vast courtyard lined with soldiers and nobles alike. The Emperor sat upon his gilded throne, his face impassive as I was forced to kneel before him.
A hooded priest stepped forward, unrolling a parchment. "Lucien Velkaris, former Archmage of the Empire, you stand accused of high treason. Your punishment is death."
I smirked. "No final words for an old friend, Your Majesty?"
The Emperor's gaze remained cold. "You sealed your fate the moment you outgrew your place."
A hand pressed against my back, forcing me down. The executioner raised his blade, its steel gleaming in the morning light. I closed my eyes, bracing for the end.
The sword fell.
And then—
Darkness....