He had followed Kaelen. Trusted him. Believed in his strength.
But now… now, he saw a shadow stretching behind every noble act. A quiet manipulation behind every alliance. Kaelen wasn't wrong—that's what made it worse.
He was winning.
And somewhere deep in Rattan's chest, a voice began to whisper:
It should be you.
Rattan hated himself in this moment. He had sacrificed so much, played dangerous games, walked moral tightropes, and yet… it still wasn't enough. Despite all his cunning and compromise, despite the blood on his hands and the burdens on his soul, everything he wanted was slipping through his fingers.
Someone else was going to win. Someone else would hold the prize. And all he could do was watch smile through clenched teeth and play the part of the loyal pawn because he was weak.
But Rattan was not someone who accepted defeat easily.
