Kane's voice shattered the strained silence.
"Why is my son there?" he demanded, his tone rising with raw disbelief. "He was supposed to be dead!"
The words rang through the chamber, silencing even the murmurs.
Kane Everhart, once the composed and poised monarch of Everhart, now stood disoriented, eyes locked on the glowing image of a white-haired boy being tortured—his son, Rufus. Alive. Broken.
From the Opalcrest side, Heinau's lips twisted into something between a smirk and a sneer. His eyes glinted with amusement—cruel and calculating.
"Well, well," he said, almost mockingly. "See, Lord Lancaster. My friend here seems quite shocked. Could it be… that he himself had a hand in his own child's fate? What reason could a father possibly have… to erase his own blood?"
The provocation was thinly veiled.
Then, as if on cue, a man dressed in the navy blue and gold uniform of Opalcrest's internal council stood up.
