**WARNING!** Heavy use of language and violence is present. Some scenes may not be suitable for younger readers.
This book, "Regal Rift," is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidenta...
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Prince Lyxander's gaze swept over the gathered crowd, their faces a mosaic of emotions.
Some wore expressions of shock, others of disappointment, and a few whispered among themselves, their voices a low hum that filled the air.
As he stood there, amidst the sea of onlookers, Prince Lyxander couldn't help but feel a tumult of conflicting emotions swirling within him.
There was a pang of disappointment at his own failure to wield the Eldorian sword, a sense of frustration at the weight of expectation placed upon him, and a tinge of embarrassment at having his shortcomings laid bare before so many eyes.
But beneath it all, there was something else, something he couldn't quite name.
"Was it determination, a fierce resolve to prove himself worthy of the sword's power? Or was it doubt, a gnawing uncertainty that whispered of his own inadequacy?"
Prince Lyxander searched the faces of the crowd, seeking some sign, some clue as to what he should feel in this moment of uncertainty. And then, almost instinctively, his gaze found Rhys.
But the Rhys he saw was not the Rhys he knew. There was a steely determination in his eyes, a hardness to his expression that Lyxander had never seen before.
It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a side of his friend that had remained hidden until now.
The stunned crowd fell silent as they too noticed the change in Rhys. Whispers rippled through the hall, a murmur of confusion and disbelief as they watched him draw his sword openly, the metal gleaming in the light of the chandeliers.
And then, as if on cue, a low, mocking laughter echoed through the hall, drawing all eyes to the corner of the palace where Rhys stood.
His laughter was harsh and bitter, a stark contrast to the joviality of the celebration.
Prince Lyxander's heart sank as he watched his friend, his mind reeling with questions and uncertainty. What had happened to Rhys?
As the laughter died away, Rhys turned to face the crowd, his gaze cold and unyielding.
And in that moment, Prince Lyxander realized that things would never be the same again.
As Rhys held the grip to his sword, the royal soldiers gathered around him, their expressions a mixture of confusion and anger.
"Drop your sword soldier, that's an order." One of the royal guards shouted at him.
Prince Lyxander stepped forward, his voice laced with urgency.
"Rhys, what is the meaning of this?"
Rhys's eyes gleamed with malice as he turned to face him.
"Ah, Prince Lyxander, you finally see the truth. It's time for the rightful heir to claim what is his."
