The guards held Armin firmly, their iron grips ensuring he couldn't move more than a fraction of an inch. His muscles strained under their hold, but resistance was futile. Kyralia, however, was forced to her knees before the King, her defiance muted by the rough hand of a guard pressing down on her shoulder. She didn't struggle, but her eyes burned with unspoken fury.

"I should strike you both where you stand," the King growled, his voice dripping with venom. His beady eyes darted between the two, their shared defiance only fueling his rage. "But that would be too swift a justice for my taste," he sneered, the corner of his mouth twitching with malicious glee.

"Do what you must to me, but leave her be," Armin said firmly, his voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air. True to his role as both knight and gentleman, he stood unwavering, even as the guards tightened their grips on him.

The King's lips twisted into a cruel smirk. "I will do as I please to my wife," Edward declared, his words laced with venom. He was taunting Armin, poking at his helplessness. The knight struggled against the iron grips of the guards, his muscles flexing with the effort, but they held him firm, unwilling to relent.

Edward took a step forward, his regal robes swishing with each calculated movement. "But alas, there is more than meets the eye," he mused, his tone dark and foreboding. He stopped before Kyraila, towering over her as she knelt, defiant even in her vulnerable position. Slowly, the King extended his hand, his index and middle fingers sliding beneath her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze. His smug, all-knowing expression made her stomach churn, but Kyraila didn't flinch or look away, her strength refusing to falter.

Edward let his fingers drop, withdrawing with deliberate slowness, as if savoring the power he held over her. "Bring it," he barked, snapping his fingers with a sharp crack that echoed through the chamber. One of the guards immediately stepped away, disappearing into the shadows.

Within moments, the guard returned, carrying a lengthy bundle wrapped in pristine white cloth. Whatever it concealed, its significance was clear. The room grew heavy with anticipation, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. Edward's eyes gleamed with twisted satisfaction as he turned his attention back to his wife and her forbidden lover.

"What is that?" Armin demanded, bitterness lacing his voice as he glared at the King.

"This, my dear Knight," Edward began, lifting the heavy object in his hands with a showy flourish before turning to face Armin fully. "Tis a book of sorcery." With deliberate slowness, the King began to unwrap the cloth, revealing its contents.

In his hands lay a large grimoire—Kyralia's grimoire. The tome was massive, its thin, crisp pages a mix of aged parchment and newer, cleaner sheets, evidence that it had been updated recently. The cover was adorned with a pentagram encased in a circle, and the corners were reinforced with decorative metal edges, etched with intricate designs and arrow-like patterns that stretched across its surface. The craftsmanship gave it an air of elegance.

"Where did you find that?" Kyralia asked, her voice measured and cautious, betraying no emotion despite the tension in the air.

"In thy chamber," Edward replied smugly. His words made her inwardly curse herself; she knew leaving it there had been a grave mistake.

Armin's gaze darted back and forth between Kyralia and the King, confusion etched into his features. It was clear he didn't fully grasp the weight of what was happening. Edward, however, saw the knight's perplexity and pounced on it with cruel delight.

"She has you bewitched!" Edward spat, his voice rising. "My most loyal soldier reduced to nothing more than her pawn without reason... She is a sorceress!"

Edward's furious gaze bore into Kyralia, but she refused to cower. Her head dipped slightly at first, as though weighed down by the shame of this revelation, but then she lifted it again. Her eyes locked with Edward's, calm and unyielding.

"I deny these accusations," Kyralia replied, her tone cool and steady. She betrayed no fear, no tremor in her voice—just an air of quiet defiance. Outing herself now would mean certain death, and she wasn't about to hand Edward that victory.

Enraged by her composure, Edward surged forward. Without warning, his left hand lashed out, striking Kyralia across the face with a forceful backhand. The sharp crack echoed through the room, causing Armin to snarl with fury. He thrashed against the guards restraining him, his deep growls of anger filling the air.

Kyralia, however, remained unfazed. Her head turned slightly from the impact, but she didn't flinch. She was a woman of strength, her resolve forged in countless battles. Slowly, she straightened, her face calm and unmarked by pain.

"Do not lie to me!" Edward bellowed, his voice reverberating through the chamber as his anger boiled over.

But Kyralia only tilted her head, a faint, knowing smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. Her expression was daring, her eyes brimming with a dangerous, unspoken truth. She knew exactly who she was—and now, so did he.

"Deception is your craft, Sire," Kyralia declared boldly, her voice dripping with defiance. Kingship, after all, thrived on deception and manipulation. The King motioned sharply to his guards, who responded by yanking Kyralia to her feet with rough hands. Her bare feet brushed the cold stone floor as she steadied herself.

"Do not feign innocence with me," Edward snarled, his hand suddenly clamping around her throat. Yet Kyralia's expression remained maddeningly composed—smug even, as though she were untouchable. "Speak the truth, or hang alongside your lover," he hissed, his gaze flicking pointedly to Armin, who stood restrained by the guards.

The King's threat hung heavily in the air. For the first time, a flicker of concern crossed Kyralia's face. She couldn't risk Armin's life. "Yes," she admitted, her voice subdued with defeat. "The book is mine." She didn't dare look at Armin, whose face twisted in shock and disbelief. "But I swear, I have never used sorcery within these walls or on Armin," she added, her eyes locking firmly with the King's, her truth unwavering.

"Witch!" Edward spat venomously, tightening his grip on her throat before abruptly releasing her. Kyralia stumbled slightly but held her ground, refusing to cower. "You will hang from the highest tree so your vile magic can no longer taint this kingdom!" the King roared, his voice echoing through the chamber with finality.

Turning his attention to Armin, Edward's tone shifted, smooth and calculated. "And you," he said, narrowing his gaze. "I offer you a second chance. Renounce your love for this witch, pledge yourself back to my service, and you will be spared of all charges."

Armin's breath hitched. "I... I..." he stammered, torn between his love for Kyralia and the King's insidious offer.

"She bewitched you," Edward pressed his words serpentine. "Every feeling you think you hold for her is a lie—her dark magic deceiving your heart. Let me free you from her spell."

Armin's resolve faltered, the weight of the King's manipulation bearing down on him. "I have no love for her," he said at last, his voice hollow, as if he were convincing himself as much as the King. "She bewitched me, Sire. My loyalty lies with you."

Kyralia's heart shattered. "No!" she cried out in anguish, her voice breaking as she turned desperately toward Armin. Her eyes searched his, pleading for him to remember the truth. "I never used sorcery on you, Armin! Please—"

"Take her away!" the King barked, cutting her off with a dismissive wave. The guards seized Kyralia, dragging her toward the chamber's exit. She didn't struggle; using her magic now would only seal her doom.

As she was pulled away, Kyralia cast one last, longing look at Armin. He refused to meet her gaze, turning his head away in silent rejection. The sight was a dagger to her soul, but she remained silent, her grief a heavy burden she carried as the doors closed behind her, leaving Armin alone in the oppressive silence of the chamber.

...................................

Kyralia stood silently against the cold metal bars of her prison cell, the weight of her chains pressing heavily against her ankles. The dark iron shackles bound her feet together, with a longer chain anchoring her firmly to the centre of the cell floor. Her fingers curled tightly around the bars, the chill of the steel biting into her skin as she stared into the dimly lit corridor beyond.

Her sigh was soft but full of resignation. The sting of losing Armin, the man she loved, still lingered in her chest like a fresh wound. Yet deep down, she knew this wouldn't be her end. Kyralia had always been a survivor, but survival often came at a cost—the people she loved rarely emerged unscathed.

Her gaze shifted to the guard stationed stiffly at the gate of her cell. He stood tall, silent, and stern, following explicit orders not to engage with her. His presence was a reminder of the King's grip on her fate, but she met his indifference with a calm resolve, her mind already working on ways to escape.

The silence shattered abruptly. A sudden, heavy thud echoed through the corridor. Kyralia's eyes darted to the source of the commotion as the guard staggered backwards, clutching his jaw. Before he could recover, a decisive blow struck him squarely, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Her breath caught in her throat as she instinctively stepped back, momentarily startled. But her tension eased when a familiar figure emerged from the shadows—Armin. He was quick and precise, crouching to retrieve the keys from the fallen guard.

Kyralia's lips parted in disbelief. "Armin," she whispered, her voice a mix of relief and confusion, as she watched him work. Despite the betrayal she'd felt earlier, seeing him now filled her with a flicker of hope she thought she'd lost.

"You thought I would betray the time we shared," Armin said, a soft smile spreading across his face, his tone resolute.

Kyralia hesitated, her fingers brushing against the cool metal of the chains still binding her ankles. "But now you know the truth of what I am," she admitted, her voice steady despite the weight of her words. She straightened her posture as he turned the key in the lock, the heavy click echoing in the dim cell. "The King is not wrong, nor will I deny it any longer—I am a sorceress," she confessed, her gaze unwavering.

Armin paused, standing still as the door creaked open. His eyes locked onto hers, his expression filled with quiet determination. "And I know," he said firmly, "that you did not bewitch me."

Kyralia stepped forward as soon as the door swung wide, her chains clinking softly with each step. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into an embrace that spoke of relief, gratitude, and love.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. They pulled back just enough to look at each other, and in the next breath, their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and fierce, a promise sealed in the quiet moment.

The sound of hurried footsteps and clinking metal shattered their reprieve. Kyralia pulled away, her eyes darting toward the source of the noise.

"We have to flee," Armin urged, gripping her wrist as he led her down the dim stone corridors. They ran together, their pace swift but careful, turning sharply at corners as the echoes of pursuing soldiers grew louder behind them.

At last, they reached the end of the passage, a plain wooden door barring their way. Armin pushed it open, and they stumbled into a moonlit courtyard. The night air was cool, and the faint glow of stars peeked through the shifting clouds above. A fountain stood in the courtyard's centre, its waters cascading in gentle rivulets that shimmered faintly in the moonlight.

They darted around the fountain, only to halt abruptly. A line of soldiers emerged from the shadows, their swords gleaming ominously under the faint starlight. Armin and Kyralia turned quickly, but another wave of armed men appeared behind them, closing in.

The two stood trapped between the advancing forces, their breaths quickened but their resolve was unshaken.

"Tis a shocking revelation," came Edward's voice, cutting through the tense air as he stepped into view, flanked by more guards. His smirk held no warmth, only smug triumph. "But not unexpected," he said, his gaze fixed on Kyralia and Armin. He tilted his head, his expression hardening. "Kill them."

The order hung in the air like a death knell. Kyralia's heart pounded, and she knew she could not hold back any longer. With a flick of her wrist, a surge of green energy crackled to life, dancing around her fingertips before swirling into her palm.

The soldiers around them faltered, their eyes glowing with an eerie green light as her magic took hold. Their stances shifted, and in perfect unison, they turned to face the King.

Edward's smug expression melted into one of shock and anger as he realized what was happening. His eyes darted between the bewitched soldiers and Kyralia, who now stood with her palm extended toward him, power radiating from her every motion. The tide had turned, and the King's confidence wavered under the weight of her defiance.

"I suggest you let us leave," Kyralia said, her tone cold and commanding. Armin stood beside her, wide-eyed and silent, stunned by this new and powerful side of her—especially with her magic on full display.

"I am the King!" Edward bellowed, his voice trembling as he tried to assert his dominance.

"And I am the Queen," Kyralia countered with a sharp retort, a smug smile curling her lips. With a thrust of her hand, the green energy surged, pulsing through the air. The bewitched soldiers raised their swords, all pointing directly at the King.

"Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!" the soldiers chanted in unison, their voices booming through the courtyard. The eerie synchronization sent a visible shiver down Edward's spine.

His bravado faltered as fear overtook him. "This is not over! I will have your head on a spike!" he shouted, but the threat rang hollow as he turned and fled the courtyard, his royal cape trailing behind him like a coward's tail.

Kyralia lowered her hand, the green energy dissipating into the cool night air. She turned to face Armin, who stood frozen, his mouth slightly agape.

"I am sorry," she said softly, her voice tinged with regret. "I should not have used my power like that." She paused, glancing down for a moment before looking back at him. "And now, I will be hunted until the end of my days. I can not put you through that." The weight of her words pressed down on her as she acknowledged the grim reality—Edward would never stop until she was dead.

"We can run away," Armin said, stepping forward and taking her hands in his. His gaze was steady and filled with determination. "Go north, somewhere no one will know us. We can start over."

Kyralia's expression faltered, sadness pooling in her eyes. She shook her head slightly. "We can only dream," she whispered, her voice heavy with sorrow. The tears threatened to fall, but she blinked them back.

Before Armin could reply, she surged forward, her lips meeting his in a deep, passionate kiss. The world seemed to pause as she memorized every detail of this moment, knowing it might be their last. Unbeknownst to Armin, the familiar green energy coiled around his head, shimmering faintly as it awaited her command.

As they broke the kiss, Kyralia's eyes searched his. "I love you," she said, her voice breaking as a single tear slid down her cheek. "And I will never forget our time together."

"And I love you," Armin replied, the sincerity in his voice making her heartache. His words almost made her hesitate, but she couldn't go through with her initial plan. The green energy dissipated, leaving his warm, light-brown eyes untouched.

"Go to the stables," she said firmly, stepping back. "I will meet you there."

Armin nodded, his trust unwavering. With one last lingering look, he turned and hurried away, the sound of his retreating footsteps echoing through the courtyard.

Kyralia stood still, watching him disappear into the shadows. She exhaled shakily, knowing the truth she couldn't tell him: they would not flee together. This wasn't his fight to bear.

She turned away from the path to the stables, her steps resolute. There was one last confrontation she had to face—Edward would answer to her, and she would end this once and for all.

******