The courtroom buzzed with tension, the weight of the trial pressing down on everyone present. Kerrigan stood at the center, her sharp gaze fixed on the opposing council member as he droned on about technicalities meant to stall the proceedings.She had been at the forefront of this battle for weeks, navigating every twist and turn with relentless determination. But today, something was different. A dull ache throbbed at her temples, and her vision blurred at the edges, a telltale sign that Abraxas’s power was taking its toll.Kerrigan steadied herself, gripping the podium as the council member continued his arguments. Each time she tried to subdue the power within her, the strain grew worse, pulling at her like a heavy anchor dragging her down.Abraxas’s presence was always there, lurking beneath the surface, offering strength but demanding a price. She had known the risks—knew that his power wanted justice, wanted to unleash on these twisted men—but she hadn’t expected its toll to ca
The city of Golan buzzed with a restless energy that never seemed to fade, even in the early morning hours. Skyscrapers towered over the old royal palace, a relic of ancient times now surrounded by the gleaming steel and glass of modernity. It was a place where history and innovation collided, where the power struggles of the past echoed in the political maneuverings of the present. Conor and Kerrigan moved through the palace’s grand halls, past sleek marble floors and opulent chandeliers, their minds already miles away, focused on the dangerous journey ahead.They couldn’t afford to be seen as anything less than composed; the trial demanded their full attention. But every moment in the courtroom felt like a countdown, ticking away the time they had left to secure the Valtas bond. Abraxas’s power was pushing Kerrigan to her limits, and the bond was the only way to temper it. Yet making their escape from the city was proving nearly impossible.Conor glanced at Kerrigan as they stepped i
The helicopter descended softly onto the lush grounds of Lokir estate, its blades slicing through the still night air. Conor and Kerrigan disembarked, their nerves taut as they set foot on the ancient land.Lokir, nestled hours north of Golan, was a secluded sanctuary, far from the prying eyes of the capital and the King’s spies who relentlessly watched their every move. Tonight, the estate’s serene, moonlit beauty was both a comfort and a reminder of the importance of what they were about to do.They were greeted by the Duke and Duchess of Targu, whose warm smiles masked the gravity of the night’s ceremony. The Duke, dressed in a dark suit with subtle dragon insignias, offered Conor a firm handshake, while the Duchess embraced Kerrigan warmly.“You made it safely,” the Duke said, his voice thick with relief. “We’ve prepared everything as you requested.”“Thank you,” Conor replied, feeling the weight of his robes, the traditional attire of the Priest of Celia, pressing against his shou
The morning sun filtered through the curtains of their private suite, casting a warm glow on the intricately carved wooden beams overhead. Conor and Kerrigan lay side by side, their breathing slow and synchronized, their hands still entwined from the night before.The bond had been sealed in every sense—mind, body, and soul—and the connection between them now thrummed like a living, breathing thing.Kerrigan opened her eyes first, blinking against the soft morning light. Her senses were heightened, every sound and scent vivid and sharp. She turned to look at Conor, who was already watching her, his expression a mix of love and wonder.“How are you feeling?” Conor asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. There was a new warmth in his voice, a protective edge that hadn’t been there before.Kerrigan smiled, feeling the strange yet comforting weight of their bond settle within her. “Stronger. A bit sore… but more... complete. And you?”“The same,” Conor replied, though
When they returned, the capital had changed. What had once been a city of whispers was now a place of open gossip, where slanderous headlines and false narratives about Conor and Kerrigan spread like wildfire.The Benedicts' smear campaign was relentless, twisting the truth, framing Kerrigan as power-hungry and Conor as a man unworthy of his station. Every news report painted them as the villains, their bond a source of scandal and suspicion.onor could feel the weight of the trial pressing down on all of them. Gregor Benedict and his son Kelan were not only fighting in the courtroom, but they had taken their battle to the streets, using their wealth and influence to sway public opinion.The lies they spun were doing damage, and Conor knew something needed to change before it spiraled out of control.Their short time away had been much needed but now, returning to the cesspit that the trial had become was frustrating to say the least.Kerrigan was doing her best but her nerves were fra
The tension in the courtroom was a living thing, crackling in the air as the trial dragged into its final stretch. Kerrigan sat at the front, her gaze steady, but inside, she could feel the relentless pressure of the past few months building.Every delay, every twisted statement, every loophole that Gregor and Kelan Benedict exploited had worn her patience thin. The media storm outside was ruthless, the Benedicts weaving lies and fabrications about her and Conor, turning the public’s perception of them into a battlefield.But today, the Benedicts were running out of time, and both sides could sense it.Kelan stood, his movements deliberate as he approached the front of the courtroom. His usually smug face was now set with the determination of a cornered animal.Conor could feel Kerrigan tense beside him, sensing the change in the air. Kelan had something planned. but the more he looked at the man, the more Conor wondered if Kelan had been feeling the stress of the last few weeks as mu
Gregor Benedict’s revelation of the King’s letter had cast a long shadow over the trial. Whispers of the royal sanction filled the halls, the uncertainty now clouding what had once seemed like a clear path to justice. But today, Conor had come prepared. Today, the tides would turn.As he stood before the court, Conor felt the steady hum of Celia’s power pulsing through him. It grounded him, kept him calm, even as the eyes of the court watched him closely, waiting for his next move. He could feel Kerrigan’s presence beside him, their bond giving him strength. This was the moment they had been waiting for.“Your Honor,” Conor began, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority, “I request that the court scribe be placed at my disposal.”The presiding judge, who had grown increasingly weary of the trial’s twists, narrowed his eyes at Conor. "What purpose does this serve, Deinmaar Conor? Have we not seen enough?"Conor held his gaze. "There are ancient laws, buried within the kingdo
The courtroom was tense, the air heavy with the anticipation of what was to come. The walls of the grand hall seemed to close in, the once-vibrant banners of the kingdom’s crest hanging like a judgmental audience over the proceedings.Conor’s presentation of the ancient scrolls had left the nobles and the High Council in a stunned silence. The echoes of the scribe’s voice reading aloud the punishments—the loss of titles, lands, even the death sentence—hung in the room like a noose.Kerrigan could feel the shift, the palpable unease among the gathered nobles. The trial had taken an unexpected turn, and for the time, the Benedicts were truly on the defensive.Conor stood beside her, his calm presence a steady anchor in the storm of tension. Yet, across the courtroom, she saw the panic etched on Gregor’s face, his eyes darting toward the King’s throne, seeking a lifeline.Gregor Benedict, once the proud and unshakabl