Chapter 9 - Judgment in the Throne Hall
The grand throne hall was silent once more, but the atmosphere was entirely changed. The golden chandeliers flickered nervously in the draft as heavy oak doors burst open with a resounding bang.
King Valerius sat slumped upon his golden throne, his crown askew, his face aged by a decade in a matter of days. Queen Eleanor stood rigidly beside him, while Aurelia cowered behind the armrest, weeping hysterically, her expensive silk gown stained with dirt and blood.
Lyra stepped into the hall, flanked by Captain Marcus and a dozen elite rebel fighters. The glowing crown upon her head illuminated the ruined grandeur of the room.
"You..." Valerius hissed, rising slowly to his feet, his hand resting on the hilt of a heavy ceremonial broadsword. "You should have stayed in the dirt where you belonged."
"The dirt was kind to me, Valerius," Lyra replied, her voice ringing clear and cold across the vast chamber. "It taught me how to survive. It taught me the cost of tyranny. And it taught me how to reclaim what is mine."
"Traitor!" Aurelia screamed, lunging forward with a hidden dagger, her face twisted in frantic madness. "I am the queen! Die!"
Before Aurelia could take three steps, a pulse of kinetic energy from the crown slammed into her, lifting her off her feet and tossing her harmlessly into the arms of the guards who pinned her securely to the floor.
Valerius roared in rage, drawing his heavy broadsword and charging down the golden steps with desperate fury.
Lyra did not flinch. She raised her hand, and the crown flared with blinding, absolute brilliance. A bolt of pure golden light struck Valerius squarely in the chest. The usurper was thrown backward, crashing heavily against the golden throne, his sword clattering across the marble floor as he slid down in a lifeless heap.
May you like
Queen Eleanor screamed, collapsing onto the stone in absolute despair.
The hall fell profoundly still.
