King Wilhelm;
The first thing I notice is that the fighting has stopped.
Not the groaning of the structure around us, nor the sharp cracks spreading through the ground beneath our feet... Those continue, growing louder with every passing second, but the fighting itself has stopped. That's what has most of my attention right now, and I know better than to mistake that silence for surrender.
Every hooded head in the chamber has turned towards us.
No one else…but us. The witch stands on my left, with purple light crawling up her arms; the warlock stands on my right, with his hands raised and darkness gathering between his fingers and me.
I have seen both of them before. I remember the witch from Gravemaw, remember what she did to that kingdom and the devastation she left behind. I remember the warlock too, the one who stood beside her, whose presence alone should have been enough to make me question whether allowing either of them near my family was worth the risk.
