The great hall was silent — but not empty.
It pulsed, breathed, shifted like a living thing. Shadows clung to the marble pillars, stretching like claws toward the vaulted ceiling. The stone walls were etched with ancient symbols, veins of obsidian and silver weaving like a spider's web across their surface. High above, the crimson banners of House Virelith rippled faintly, untouched by wind, as if moved by something unseen.
The scent of blood — metallic, old, laced with death — still lingered, soaked into the very foundation of this place.
Arthur stood at the heart of it all, his presence suffocating, impossibly still. His pale hand hovered in the air, fingers poised as though plucking at invisible threads of fate.
And across from him… Selena.
Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Her raven-black hair cascaded down her back like liquid silk. Her eyes, still untouched by transformation, burned with uncertainty — torn between two impossible paths.
The concubines lined the perimeter like statues carved from sin and silk, their perfect faces masks of beauty — but beneath… jealousy festered like rot.
Arthur's voice sliced through the suffocating silence, velvet laced with iron.
"Choose, Selena," he whispered, and even the flames seemed to shrink from him. "Daughter… or concubine."
The words coiled around her like chains, cold, heavy, impossible to escape.
"You are my blood… by right," Arthur continued, stepping forward — though his footsteps made no sound. He drifted, ghostlike, untethered to the mortal realm. "As my daughter, you command fear… voice… legacy. You outrank them all."
He gestured, sharp and graceful, to the gathered concubines. Their eyes flared, silver light dancing like knives within their irises.
"But as my woman…" His smile curved, cruel and knowing. "You risk everything for… closeness. For flesh. For desire."
The firelight caught the sharp planes of his face, casting shadows across his features, hollowing his cheeks, making his silver eyes glow like moonlight on fresh snow.
Selena's throat tightened. Her lips parted, but no sound came.
Around them, the atmosphere changed.
The temperature dropped.
A storm of power pressed down from above — unseen, but undeniable. The concubines straightened, their eyes widening as they sensed it.
It was beginning.
Arthur's hand fell to his side, the faintest motion… and the transformation ignited.
One by one, their eyes began to change.
Lady Evelyne's silver irises bled into deep crimson, the color of conquest and unwavering loyalty. A satisfied smirk curled at the corner of her lips.
Lady Isold's eyes turned to liquid gold, sharp as sunlight on polished blades — ambition restrained by discipline.
Lady Amara's gaze burned a seductive violet, flickering with uncertainty beneath the surface — hunger carefully hidden behind grace.
Lady Katarina's transformation faltered — her eyes darkened, swirling into a venomous, toxic green, betrayal simmering at the edges like acid eating through silk.
Arthur's smile sharpened like a blade.
The others followed — Mireille's pale blue, haunted but strong; Keiko's onyx black, endless and cold; Zaria's storm-grey, fierce and unwavering; Princess Anya's shimmering silver-white, predatory and pure.
But Katarina… she wavered.
Arthur's head tilted, the faintest note of amusement lacing his otherwise detached expression.
"There it is," he whispered, his voice barely audible — yet it echoed, crawling across the walls, beneath the skin of all present. "The rot beneath the porcelain."
Katarina's jaw clenched, but it was too late — the room knew. They all saw.
Her betrayal bloomed in her eyes like a poison spreading through fragile glass.
The hall tensed.
Selena's heart thundered in her chest, torn between horror… and curiosity.
Arthur turned back to her, his gaze softening — no longer the storm… but the eye of it.
"Last chance, little one," he murmured, stepping close, his voice for her ears alone. "Daughter… or woman."
His hand brushed beneath her chin, cold as marble, lifting her face gently.
His other hand hung at his side, fingers flexing slightly — prepared for what must come.
Behind him, Katarina's breathing quickened, her pupils dilating as realization bled through her confidence.
Selena's lips trembled, her voice fragile — but laced with stubborn defiance.
"I…" she began, the choice heavy, searing against her tongue.
Arthur's smile didn't falter — patient, cruel, inevitable.
Before she could answer… the first crack of betrayal echoed across the marble floor.
Katarina lunged.
A blur of silk and fangs, her eyes glowing with venomous green fire — foolish, desperate, inevitable.
But Arthur… did not move.
His feet, silent as shadows, hovered half an inch above the ground.
Time fractured.
In less than a heartbeat, Katarina's throat was split open — not by sword, not by claw — but by power alone, an unseen force slicing clean as air.
Blood fountained across the pristine marble, painting the floor in vibrant crimson.
The concubines gasped, some recoiled, others stood frozen, horror staining their perfect features.
Arthur never blinked.
Katarina collapsed to the floor, her body spasming, her eyes wide — filled with betrayal, regret… and agony.
Arthur's voice returned, smooth, cold as the grave.
"And so… the lesson begins."
He released Selena's chin, stepping past her, his boots finally — deliberately — clicking against the stone with each step.
The sound was a death knell for all.
His silver eyes gleamed as he passed the convulsing form of Katarina, blood pooling like ink beneath her.
"Her family will vanish by morning," Arthur announced calmly, indifferent to the corpse at his feet. "Her legacy… erased. Her arrogance… silenced."
The concubines shuddered — some from fear, others from desire.
Arthur turned, his gaze finding Selena once more.
The choice remained — heavier now, soaked in blood.
"Daughter… or woman…"
His voice was quiet… but undeniable.
"Decide."
The torches flickered. The marble gleamed, slick with blood. The room held its breath.
Selena's answer… would decide her fate.