Page 93 of Warlord's Plaything

But they don’t.

They don’t have to.

They have already won.

"You… knew."

The words come soft, barely above a whisper.

I freeze.

My gaze snaps down.

Xiva’s eyes are on me.

Half-lidded. Fading.

And fucking knowing.

"You knew,"I repeat, my voice breaking."Didn’t you?"

His fingers twitch, the faintest trace of a smirk on his bloodied lips.

"I suspected."

A cough. A breath.

"But you needed to see it for yourself."

The words hit like a blade through the ribs.

He knew.

He fucking knew.

And he let it happen.

He let himself be the bait.

He let himself fucking die.

For me.

For my lesson.

For my fucking throne.

"Do not kneel, boy,"he rasps, voice weaker now."You are my son. You will rise. Remember our duty, boy. Remember what we live to protect and destroy. Don’t forget."

"You will take back what is yours. It has been too long, and I’m going to see her now."

His grip tightens—one last burst of strength.

And then?—

It’s gone.

He is gone.

---