The festive atmosphere was instantly shattered, replaced by a palpable sense of dread, confusion, and disbelief.

Drakar’s gaze shifted towards Lysandra, who quickly composed herself, masking the storm of emotions brewing within her. He addressed her with a regretful sigh, “Lysandra, I hope you don’t mind that I ruined a festive mood like this. But I have to let King Asher know how sincere I am.”

Lysandra, maintaining her cool facade, simply nodded as she saw him get up and walk towards the front of the platform.

Her eyes briefly met Droco’s, who weakly raised his head in a feeble attempt to see her. His eyes, though not directly meeting hers, let Lysandra know what he was trying to say…No matter what happens, pretend to not know him.

Rhygar, sitting beside Lysandra, leaned in and whispered with a mix of curiosity and ignorance, “Mother, who is this peasant? Why did Father bring him to a place like this?”

His question made her nerves squirm, yet she chose not to respond to Rhygar’s question, her focus entirely on the unfolding situation.

Rhygar, sensing his mother’s disinterest, which was natural for her, withdrew and cast another glance at Droco, trying to make sense of his significance.

Asher, meanwhile, addressed Drakar with a discerning look, “King Drakar, are you saying that this old man had something to do with threatening mine and my people’s lives? I am sorry, but he doesn’t really seem like a threat.” Asher’s skepticism was evident; the old man’s appearance or his aura did not fit the profile of a powerful, menacing figure.

Anyone with a noble bloodline would also have noble features. However, this old man looked like a beggar one would see on the streets.

Drakar shook his head as he said with a sigh, “Don’t let his appearance fool you, King Asher. Other than me crippling him after capturing him, he has gone through a lot of trouble to change his appearance to fool us for so many years. This man was planning to sabotage the driver of your carriage and take you to a very dangerous place for devil knows what nefarious purpose.”

At Drakar’s revelation, Asher and Naida exchanged a quick glance, realization dawning on them.

This old man was the one Lysandra must have sent to safely escort them out of the kingdom!

Asher took a quick, short glance at Lysandra but he couldn’t read her face. But if she really knew him, then the last thing she would do was let herself get suspected.

Asher, his curiosity piqued by the old man’s wretched state, inquired, “Who is he?”

Drakar’s smile broadened, and he gestured theatrically with his forefinger, “I am glad you asked that. Would you believe it if I told you that this man was once known to everyone as Duke Droco, the patriarch of the strongest noble family at that time, and was once the Chief Commander of my father’s armies? He was a very powerful man in his prime, and I mean it when I say that every man below my father’s family feared him.”

Asher listened, surprised to learn that the frail, bloodied figure before them was once a decorated and powerful draconian noble.

“But I bet you are curious how a man like that ended up like this,” Drakar continued, his gaze locking with Asher’s. Asher felt a sense of unease but was indeed curious about Droco’s downfall.

“But it wasn’t his fault, not at first until…” Drakar’s words trailed off as he turned to his son, Rhygar, “Rhygar, remove the lid from that tray.”

Rhygar, caught off guard by his father’s sudden request, complied and lifted the lid from the tray. Beneath it lay a horrific sight – a bloody skull with flesh still clinging to it. It seemed as if someone also made the effort to preserve it just enough to not let it decay.

Lysandra’s heart skipped a beat at the sight, recognizing the aura emanating from the skull.

Drakar resumed his tale, his voice tinged with a cold reminiscence. “…his son tried to take what was mine. Even to this day, I still remember beheading him when he challenged me arrogantly to claim my woman, who is my beloved queen now, as his own.” His gaze then shifted towards Lysandra, “I hope you liked the surprise, my love. Only I know how much this man tried to torment you, including trying to come up with plans to forcibly take you away from here. I hope his head, or whatever is left of it, will bring you some solace.”

Asher wondered how obsessed Drakar was with hating her lover to the point of carrying around his skull like a trophy.

Droco’s reaction was palpable. His eyes shook with a mix of pain and realization, his teeth gritted in silent agony as blood dripped from his lips.

Lysandra, maintaining a facade of indifference, looked at the skull and replied, “I have long since forgotten this traitor. You shouldn’t have made me remember it, my king, but I appreciate your gesture.”

lightsΝοvεl ƈοm However, internally, Lysandra’s heart clenched tightly, a struggle to mask her pain and cold rage brewing within. Asher was surprised by Lysandra’s response. For a moment, he even believed she really couldn’t care less.

But to maintain such composure despite seeing her lover’s skull on that tray…Not even he would be able to do that.

It also dawned on him that this old man named Droco must also be important to her since he was the father of the man she loved. Otherwise, Droco wouldn’t have tried to help her.

Rhygar’s eyes blazed with fury upon seeing the skull of the toad who dared to try to claim his mother. But seeing him end up like this on a tray felt quite satisfying. For this, he had to give props to his father.

He had heard all the stories, but he never thought his father actually stored away the head he cut off from this unworthy scum.

Drakar turned to Lysandra, his voice carrying a tone of consideration, “I should have been more thoughtful,” he said, “You should burn it away if this head would only serve to disgust you.”

Asher’s expression tightened as he observed the unfolding scene. He recognized the meaning behind Drakar’s request.

If Drakar was aware of Lysandra’s secret, then he was far more loathsome and terrifying than he ever expected him to be.

If she refuses or tries to avoid it, it could only make her previous words appear less truthful. But by doing so, it would be no different than burning away a part of her soul.

For Asher, who had witnessed the repeated deaths of his mother and Selene, the pain of such loss was all too familiar.

He would do anything to not feel that pain again.

But if Drakar really knew, then why would he keep Lysandra around and even raise the son of his enemy? It would be no different than humiliating himself every day.

It left Asher feeling puzzled and unsure of Drakar’s intentions.

To his astonishment, however, Lysandra showed no hesitation. With a swift gesture, she conjured a ball of dark red flames, which she directed onto the skull. The remains were consumed by fire, disintegrating into ashes within seconds. Lysandra then averted her gaze with a cold look of indifference.

Droco, chained and battered, couldn’t contain his pain as he heard the flames burn whatever was left of his son, “You will rot in the pits of Tartarus, Drakar…There will be a special hell for you…” he mumbled weakly, his voice seething with spite and anger.

The guards by Droco’s side moved to bash in his mouth, but Drakar raised his hand, signaling them to stand down. He then addressed Droco with chilling coldness, “How shameless of you to say that as a traitor to this kingdom. You not only tried to cover up your son’s crimes, but you also made your entire family get involved, turning them into traitors as well. You killed them all, Droco. Not me. It is you who should be worried about what kind of hell is waiting for you, or maybe you are already living in it,” Drakar said, his lips curling into a cold, contemptuous smile.

Droco, his hands trembling with a mix of rage and helplessness, looked up at Drakar with don’t know what made you suddenly reveal yourself and try to kidnap my guests. You are cloudy, infuriated eyes.

Drakar, with a shake of his head, spoke again, his tone laced with a mix of disdain and triumph, “I don’t know what made you suddenly reveal yourself and try to kidnap my guests. You are quite clever and determined to keep your mind clean. But I have to thank you for revealing yourself since I won’t let a traitor like you try to cause any more damage to our kingdom.”

He then directed his attention to Rhygar, “Rhygar, come over here and show our guests how we draconians punish a traitor.”

Rhygar rose from his seat, his face twisted into a sadistic smile, “With pleasure, father,” he replied, relishing the opportunity. He descended from the platform, his eyes alight with a cruel eagerness.

Drakar turned to Asher and remarked, “I hope you will accept this small gesture as a sign of my goodwill.”

Asher offered a brief smile, “Sure.” His mind, however, was racing, desperate for a way to get the hell out of here. The bad feeling that was pooling in his guts was only getting worse.

Lysandra watched, her heart pounding and her composure on the brink of shattering, as Rhygar approached Droco. Rhygar brandished a sharp, serrated dagger, the weapon glinting ominously under the hall’s lights.

Lysandra forced herself to keep her eyes open and in that direction, aware of the many gazes upon her.action

Rhygar, standing before Droco, sneered, “Any last words, you old dog?” he asked contemptuously.

Droco, summoning a final ounce of defiance, raised his head only to ignore Rhygar and look at Drakar, “May your lineage wither and crumble as you have shattered mine. Your ignoble deeds will be your downfall.”

Drakar merely looked at him with scorn upon hearing his words.

Rhygar, feeling pissed off from his curse, plunged the dagger into Droco’s stomach, “That’s enough from you!”

He then slowly dragged the blade upward, slicing through flesh with sadistic precision. Droco’s face contorted in excruciating agony, yet he emitted no sound of pain, enduring the torment in stoic silence.

Asher was impressed by the defiant demeanor of this old man even in his dire state.

Lysandra’s gaze remained fixed on the gruesome scene, each second of Droco’s suffering making her chest heavier.

The gruesome spectacle escalated as Rhygar’s dagger reached just beneath Droco’s neck who was still breathing.

With a sadistic flourish, Rhygar withdrew the dagger.

Then, in a harrowing display of cruelty, he plunged his hands into the bloody opening he had carved. With a violent, forceful tug, Rhygar tore Droco’s chest apart in opposite directions. The brutal action transformed Droco’s chest into a macabre semblance of wings, a horrific sight that exposed his ribcage and internal organs.

The hall fell into a deathly silence, Leonidas, Caelum, Silvan and Oberon frozen in shock and horror at the barbarity unfolding before them while Asher and Naida’s expressions became grim.

Drakar, observing the scene with a cold contempt, proclaimed as he turned to look at Asher, “A Traitor’s Wings… That is how we punish them. By letting everyone see how the wings of a traitor really would look like,” His words echoed through the hall, casting a dreadful pall over the gathering.