The morning sun was unforgiving, casting cold light over the royal courtyard where I knelt, bound in iron chains. The metal bit into my wrists and ankles, biting reminders of a fate I never deserved.
The crowd stretched like an ocean of judgment around me—nobles draped in silk and jewels, merchants clutching coin purses, and peasants who spat curses like venom. All eyes burned into me, the fallen captain of the Black Flame Guard, once the kingdom's most trusted protector, now its most hated traitor.
I searched their faces for a glimmer of mercy. For justice. For truth. But there was only hatred.
And then I saw her.
Elaine.
Golden hair shimmering like sunlight, standing beside Prince Dorian with a quiet grace that cut deeper than any blade. Her eyes met mine for a heartbeat—cold, distant, unrecognizable. No trace of the warmth we once shared. No sign of the promises we made in secret.
My throat tightened. "Elaine," I whispered, voice cracked and weak. "Please… tell them the truth. I didn't—"
She turned her gaze away, her lips pressed in a thin line.
The High Inquisitor stepped forward, a scroll clenched in his hand, his voice booming across the square.
"Alex Smith," he declared, "former captain of the Black Flame Guard, stands accused of treason, regicide, and conspiracy against the Crown. His crimes are unforgivable, and his sentence is death by soulfire."
A wave of cheers erupted. The cheers of a kingdom eager to wash their hands of a villain.
I tried to speak, to defend myself, but the words caught in my throat like a stone.
"Alex was one of us," a voice shouted from the crowd. "He protected us! This is a lie!"
But their cries were drowned by the clamor for blood.
Prince Dorian stepped forward, his eyes sharp and cruel. "Alex was loyal," he said quietly, but each word struck like a hammer. "Too loyal. He was a tool we wielded, a weapon we discarded once he was no longer useful."
I wanted to scream. To reach out. To tear down the lies.
But all I could do was kneel.
The pyre was lit beneath me, flames licking hungrily at the dry wood. The smoke curled upward, dark and thick.
As the fire grew, a cold calm settled over me. This was not the end. It could not be.
A single thought burned brighter than the flames: They made me this villain. And they would regret it.
I smiled.
Not a smile of peace.
But the smile of a man reborn in fire.