The shadows did not just stretch; they seemed to bleed into the marble. The vibrant midday heat of the Sun Festival died instantly, replaced by a suffocating, graveyard chill that tasted like river mud and iron.
King Dechanuwat lay slumped across the sacred altar, his blood pooling into the spilled ceremonial wine. The red liquid dripped off the edge of the stone steps, a slow, rhythmic *drip-drop* that was the only sound in the dead silent pavilion.
"Kill her," Lali repeated.
Her voice wasn't sweet anymore. It was a jagged, raw scrape. She stood over the dead King, her white silk dress heavily splattered with crimson. She looked completely unhinged, her hair coming loose from its gold pins, but the court didn't see a monster. They looked at her with wide, empty eyes, nodding like clockwork toys.
"For the Queen," a palace guard muttered, his face blank as he raised his spear.
"For Lady Lali," a minister echoed.
Dozens of iron blades left their scabbards with a synchronized, metallic *shrick*. They weren't just moving to arrest me; they were moving to shred me. The "Heroine's Charm" had completely rewritten their brains. They didn't care about the dead King. They only cared about his killer's wishes.
I stepped back, my heels skidding on the wet stone. My breath hitched. *This is it,* I thought. *Truck-kun sent me here just to get turned into mincemeat.*
"Phurin!" I yelled, desperate, looking at the Crown Prince.
Phurin stood frozen. His sword was still out, but his arms hung loose. His eyes were milky, staring right through me as if I were a ghost. "Lali... must be obeyed," he droned. He was completely gone.
The circle of blades tightened. The nearest guard lunged, his spear aiming straight for my sternum.
*CLANG.*
The spear point didn't touch me. A heavy, black-iron broadsword slammed into the shaft, shattering the wood into splinters.
"Get your filthy hands off my accomplice," a voice snarled.
**Prince Kovit** stepped in front of me, his eyes burning with a terrifying, vicious fire. The boyish, playful prince was completely dead. His jaw was set so tight a muscle jumped in his cheek, and his full royal armor was covered in dark river soot. He didn't look back at me, but his left hand reached back, grabbing my wrist in a grip like an iron shackle.
"Kovit?" I breathed. "You're... you're not brainwashed?"
"My father is bleeding out on an altar, Kanya," Kovit hissed, his voice dropping into a low, murderous register. "I don't give a damn about her little spell."
"Neither do I," a cold voice echoed from the stairs.
A massive wave of blue, crackling light erupted from the center of the pavilion. **Prince Niran** stood at the edge of the crowd, his silver-framed glasses reflecting the magical lightning dancing across his fingertips. He slammed his hand onto the stone floor, and a shockwave of raw mana ripped through the guards, throwing them backward into the pillars.
Niran's face was deathly pale. His white scholar robes were singed, and his hands were shaking—not from fear, but from the sheer amount of magical energy he was pulling out of the air.
"The spell she's using isn't magic," Niran called out, his voice cutting through the groans of the fallen soldiers. "It's a linguistic curse embedded in the script of this world! I can't break it, Kovit! We have to move now!"
"Vane!" Lali screamed, throwing a tantrum on the throne stairs, her fingers clawing at her own face in rage. "Why are they still breathing? Kill them! Kill the villainess and her trash brothers!"
From the high rafters, Vane dropped down like a massive spider. His poisoned dagger spun in his hand, his eyes locked dead on Kovit's throat.
"Go!" Kovit roared, throwing me behind him as he swung his broadsword upward to meet Vane's strike.
The clash of their blades sparks flew in the dark, eerie gloom of the pavilion. Kovit was strong, but Vane was a ghost. He slipped past Kovit's guard, his dagger slicing a thin line across Kovit's shoulder armor.
"Kanya, run!" Niran grabbed my other arm, pulling me toward the edge of the pavilion where the river docks lay.
Below us, the Chao Phraya River looked black as ink under the strangely dimmed sun. A lone wooden longtail boat was bobbing against the pier, its engine already idling with a low, aggressive growl.
"We can't leave Kovit!" I screamed, looking back.
Kovit was holding off five guards and Vane at the same time, his boots slipping in his father's blood. He parried a blow, kicked a soldier off the platform, and then looked right at me. For a split second, that wild, thrill-seeking smirk returned to his blood-stained face.
"I'll catch up, Pee-Kanya!" he shouted. "Don't let them scratch the dress!"
With a brutal roar, Kovit slammed his shoulder into a massive bronze incense burner, tipping the thousands of pounds of hot ash and burning charcoal directly into the path of the advancing guards. A wall of blinding white smoke and fire erupted between him and the throne.
"Jump!" Niran yelled, dragging me over the stone railing.
We fell through the dark air, crashing hard onto the wooden deck of the boat just as a spear thudded into the wood where my head had been a second ago.
Behind us, up on the burning altar, Lali's screech pierced the smoke, echoing over the water like the cry of a banshee.
"Find them! Bring me her head!"