He gestured. Two masked figures emerged from the shadows, dragging a third—a man Lysandra barely recognized: the Royal Alchemist, her last loyal servant. His hands were gone, replaced by smoking stumps. He sobbed.
And at the foot of the dais stood Kaelen, the man she had broken first. Atrocious Empress BAD END -Final- -Sexecute-
But her eyes remained open. And for one more hour, the throne room was filled with a low, keening sound—not a scream, but the noise of a soul being slowly, meticulously, unmade from the inside. He gestured
“You once told me,” Kaelen continued, ascending the first step of the dais, “that the only true power was to make someone choose their own ruin. You called it the ‘Sexecute’—the sentence of the self.” keening sound—not a scream