The air was cold.
A heavy stillness weighed down the town square.
The actors were lined up, bound. Pale faces, shaking hands. They stood beneath the scaffold.
A whisper passed through the crowd. Fear.
Nux stood in silence. His figure was unmoving, a shadow in the light. Velanora beside him, hands behind her back, eyes scanning. Her posture was perfect, but there was a tightness in her jaw, a slight tremor in her fingers that betrayed the stillness of her form.
The execution platform gleamed, the noose hanging in waiting.
The youngest actor — the boy who had mimicked Roald — was the first to step forward. His eyes were wide. He tried to stand tall but failed.
Nux didn't flinch.
The rope was placed around the boy's neck. He gasped, but no sound escaped.
"Justice," Velanora said, her voice steady, eyes cold. "For the betrayal."
The boy's breath was shallow, trembling. His hands fidgeted against the bindings.
Nux's eyes never left him.
A subtle shift. A flick of a hand.
The platform creaked.
The boy's body jerked, then went still. The silence hung heavier than before.
A voice broke from the lower arc of the square.
Young. Unsteady.
"Stop—"
The word cracked against the stone like something fragile. Heads turned.
A boy forced his way forward from the crowd, shoulders thin, jaw clenched in something that looked too much like conviction for his age. For a heartbeat he stood exposed, defiant in the open space between citizens and scaffold.
Steel flashed.
A guard stumbled back with a cry, clutching at his arm where a shallow cut bloomed red through cloth. Gasps rippled outward.
The boy did not run.
Not at first.
It took three guards to drag him down. He fought without skill, only fury, boots scraping against stone as they forced him to his knees.
Velanora saw his face as they hauled him away. Not hatred. Not madness.
Grief.
Nux did not turn.
"Remove him," he said mildly.
The square swallowed the disturbance as if it had never happened.
Velanora shifted slightly, eyes cast down for a fraction of a second, before she regained her composure. Her gaze flickered briefly to Nux, but it didn't waver. She didn't dare let him see.
Nux turned his back to the square, motioning to Velanora.
"Next."
The other actors stood frozen, awaiting their turn. The fear was palpable. Their eyes darted between Nux and the platform.
The actor who had impersonated Sir. Wilkinson was last. He stepped forward with a trembling breath, his face pale, lips barely parting. The crowd watched, expectant.
Nux's gaze swept over him.
The noose was tightened.
The actor's throat tightened. His eyes darted around as if searching for an escape.
The guards took their time.
Nux didn't wait.
The platform creaked again.
The actor's body jerked.
Then silence.
Velanora's gaze lingered on the hanging body for a moment too long, her lips pressed into a thin line. She straightened again, her movements controlled, but a slight edge to her posture told of the internal battle she fought.
The crowd stood still. Some faces twisted with disgust. Others flinched. A few, wide-eyed, stared ahead, unwilling to meet the sight. The lingering tension filled the air like smoke.
Nux walked away. His mind already elsewhere.
The last actor stepped forward.
She was different. Younger, her hair dark, her face unfamiliar yet somehow hauntingly recognizable. The crowd stirred, confusion rippling through them. They didn't know her. Whispers ran like waves through the crowd. Who was she? Was she Isobel?
Fear crept through the square. The silence was thick. Some faces twisted in confusion, while others turned away, unsure of what they were witnessing. The uncertainty caused them to glance nervously at Nux, waiting for his next move.
Velanora's eyes flickered toward the platform. For just a moment, she didn't mask the unease that flashed across her face. She felt it. The weight of the unknown. The fear of what was to come.
The noose was placed around her neck.
The woman's eyes met Nux's. His expression was unreadable, but Velanora saw the subtle shift in his posture, the slight narrowing of his eyes, the barely visible tightening of his jaw. She knew what was coming, but it didn't stop the unease in her chest.
The rope tightened.
The crowd held their breath. Some faces were pale, some turned away, but a few could not look away, transfixed by the grim spectacle unfolding. There was no more denying what Nux was capable of.
The woman's body hung limply.
Velanora's fingers twitched, a slight flex as if her body wanted to act, but she held herself still.
The silence stretched.
Nux's lips curled into the faintest smile.
He was satisfied. This was his power. His control.
With one last glance at the body, he turned and walked away, his footsteps sharp and purposeful.
Velanora remained still, her hands clasped behind her back, but her eyes betrayed her. She didn't want to watch, but she could not look away.
The crowd stood, breathing in a collective silence.
No one moved.
The lesson was clear.
(Velanora's Perspective)
I can feel it again, that gnawing sensation in my chest. The taste of power lingering in the air, thick and suffocating. But it's not the same taste it used to be. This... this is different.
I know what Nux wants. I know what he's trying to build here. Control. Fear. But I can't shake the feeling that we're all falling further into his grasp, bit by bit. Each execution, each tightening of the noose, it's not just about the criminals. It's about us. It's about him reminding us who holds the power.
I stand here, watching this, and yet I can't move. He's done it again. He's molded this city, this populace, into something that will only bend to him. I... I helped him. I've followed his orders, but the weight of it's becoming unbearable. The fear is too heavy.
Even a boy, much younger than I am, had the courage to stand up against the serpent. I know I have that same courage.
But I can't let it show. Not yet.
(Nux's Perspective)
They watched, and now they understand. They've seen the lesson I've taught them, and now they will remember. Fear. Control. This is how they learn to respect what I've built.
A slight smile forms on my lips. This is perfect. The town, the people, all of them hanging on my every movement. They know they are powerless to stop it. There is nothing they can do but watch.
And I know now that they will. They will obey. Or they will pay.
No more distractions. I have their attention again.