Fall From Glory

Panic

"You can't execute us!" Ruy shrieked, his mind racing.

"And why not?" Dimitar mulled with a cruel smile. "Councillor Fintan has yet to express interest in you at all."

"We're the only ones who could possible take him down!" The Psionipath blurted, which happened to be at the forefront of his mind.

"Was I misinformed? I believe the three young elves who can truly do that are elsewhere." The King sounded bored, as if this was just as tedious for him as it was alarming for them.

"Only we can contact them! Only we know where they are!" He cried in desperation.

"Let me guess: the secret will die with you if I have you executed?" Dimitar shot an almost annoyed glanced at the murky sky.

Ruy nodded. "Correct."

"Unfortunately for you, Councillor Fintan has trackers on them. He knows exactly where they are," the Ogre King leered and leaned forward on his throne. "So unless you have instrumental information you can prove that only you know, I don't see why I should continue to waste my time."

Gethen lowered his head, the other quickly following suit, eventually even Ruy.

"Since you spoke out, you may have the privilege of being the first." Dimitar signaled to one of the guards lined up in silent formation.

Ruy's head was forced onto the block, neck exposed precariously.

The guard hefted a scimitar, the curved blade shining wickedly in the dim, clouded lighting.

Slowly, the ogre raised the blade over Ruy's neck, muscles tensing.

The azure-eyed elf, too, tensed and shut his eyes as he prepared for his end. Not even a snarky quip to go out with.

With a sharp slice through the air, the scimitar descended in an wickedly perfect arc.

"Wait!" A voice pierced the emotion-wracked silence.

Dimitar's hand shot out, halting the guard's executioning movements.

All eyes swung to Gethen, the speaker.

"If we die, you will have no leverage against the Stargale should she take over."

Dimitar's expression hardened into iron, all vindictive pleasure erased. "Explain."

Ruy's alarm coalesced into full-out panic.

"It has been foreseen that should Sophie return to Eternalia, she will usurp Fintan and Gisela, then take control over the Lost Cities as sole ruler." Gethen spoke each word as if he regretted it.

"And of her siblings? They should provide sufficient enough leverage if the need arises." Dimitar's brow creased.

"They will be dead." The Telepath admitted quietly.

"Why should we spare you, then?"

"I am her father. She would not turn against the counsel of her only family." Gethen's back straightened, his kneeling stance rigid.

"Very well, you will be spared. Kill the rest," the King allowed with a wave of his hand. The guard raised the scimitar.

"I will not cooperate without the others." Gethen shot firmly.

"A few months of torture should bend your willing into obeying just fine." Dimitar threatened.

"I am trained to withstand pain." Gethen sneered, icy eyes narrowing as strength crystallized into those piercing depths. "I am a controller of the mind and all it's horrors. There is no physical pain I cannot withstand as a master of mental agony."