He was walking through the palace, specifically in the wing of his wife, with whom conflicts had been escalating for a long time. They were literally on the verge of divorce, which is why he hadn’t come here for so long that he had forgotten how much time had passed. When he arrived, he saw his little daughter sitting in front of her mother's room door. She was sitting on the floor, hugging her legs tightly to her chest as if seeking refuge from a world too heavy for her. Her face was hidden between her knees, tears soaking her clothes. Her eyes, deeply wet with tears, sought comfort in the self-embrace. Silent cries spoke of pain that went beyond her small words, and her little body occasionally shivered, as if seeking a shield from the cruelty of the world around her.

He rushed towards her in a hurry, concerned for her. The moment she sensed his presence, she ran into his embrace. He picked her up, holding her close, and gently stroked her hair and back to give her a sense of security.

"My little Judith, why are you crying?" he asked.

“That woman...” she said, struggling to speak, burying her small face in her father’s chest, searching for a warm haven in his heart. Her face was hidden in the folds of his shirt, her tears falling softly onto its fabric. Her hands clutched the edges of his shirt in a desperate attempt to hold on to the tranquility his presence brought her. Every time she inhaled the scent of his warm cologne, she felt as if she had found a lost refuge and started to relax in his embrace, which made her feel safe and protected.

“Judith, what’s going on? Why are you like this?” he asked.

“Dad, that woman is whipping my brother inside the room.”

Suddenly, it felt as if the whole world went dark around him. His daughter’s words struck like lightning. He gently put her down and said, “Go quickly and call your uncles. Tell them I need them.”

Judith nodded and ran off in a hurry to find her uncles.

Cassius approached the door, opening it quietly so his wife wouldn't notice. He wanted to catch her red-handed so she couldn’t deny it. The room was large and connected to her private study. As he entered the room, he didn’t see her, so he headed toward the door leading to the study, where he could hear the sound of a whip striking his child’s skin. He heard his son trying to stifle his sobs and heard her scolding him over trivial things.

“You wretched child... You’re a disgrace to Miracia. I’m tired of your weakness. What do I have to do to make you stronger?”

“But, Mother, I can’t... I can’t kill my brother Ivan. I love him so much.”

She continued to strike him harder.

“You’re just as stupid as your father. Your emotions control you. How many times have I told you that you must crush everyone before you to become the strongest? You should be the next ruler of Cassial and the heir to conquered Miracia.”

“But I don’t want this. I don’t want to inherit Miracia, and I don’t want to take my brother’s place.”

“You foolish child... I hate you. I wish I had never given birth to you.”

The sound of the whip was like the howl of a strong wind, striking rapidly and leaving behind small cries of pain from the young boy.

Cassius quietly approached the study door, anger building inside him with every step. His heart pounded, his head filled with the sound of Isolda’s whip striking his son. When he reached the door, he didn’t hesitate; he pushed it open forcefully. It swung wide, revealing his son hunched over, his small body trembling with every blow, his face soaked in stifled tears. The scene was unbearable. Cassius rushed toward his wife, shoving her violently away from his child.

She was stunned, falling to the ground, looking at him in shock, but there was no time for words. Isolda tried to regain her balance, but Cassius didn’t give her a chance. He grabbed the whip from her hands and, without thinking, started striking her. Each blow was filled with anger; each strike was an expression of the pain he felt seeing his son tortured.

Isolda screamed, but her cries were like distant echoes, not reaching his ears. He was engulfed in his need for revenge, each lash embodying his love for his children and his desire to protect them at any cost. He stepped back slightly, panting, glaring at her with eyes filled with fury and tears. The moment was thick with pain, betrayal, and limitless anger. He grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the ground, leaving her unable to move from the severe beating.

Then he threw the whip away, as if its touch burned his hands, and gently picked up his son, showing tenderness unfit for the violent moment. He held the boy close, whispering reassuring words, promising to protect him from everything. He kissed his son’s face, wiped his tears, and put him down before turning his gaze back to Isolda.

Looking into her eyes, all the anger and hatred that had accumulated over months and years erupted. He began pressing his hands around her throat, his face close enough for her to see the blazing fury in his eyes.

“How dare you!” he growled in a low voice, enough to shake her to her core. “This is my child... You have no right to harm him.”

His grip tightened with every second. She struggled to break free, scratching his arms with her nails, but she was powerless against his strength. Her eyes widened in terror, but all she could see in his expression was cold, unyielding ice.

The child stood in the corner, watching the scene in silence and fear. The father, as if suddenly remembering his son’s presence, loosened his grip slightly but didn’t let go entirely.

He looked at her again, his eyes shimmering with tears mixed with rage: “He’s your child too. Why are you doing this... When did you become like this? I won’t forgive you.”

He would have killed her if his brothers hadn’t arrived.

“Brother, get away from her,” Johan said, pulling him away quickly.

“Brother, please don’t stain your hands with her. Let’s send her back to her kingdom and be done with it.”

“Yes, Johan is right; let’s send her away.”

“No, this woman conspires with her father... This woman will be executed.”

At that moment, Ivering rushed into the room, seeing his little brother trembling, his back marked with whip wounds. Still a young man at the time, Ivering was pained by the sight of his brother. When Démic saw him, he ran instinctively into his embrace. Ivering picked up his crying brother and took Judith’s hand, leading them both out of the cursed room and the wretched wing.

“My brother will not suffer again. My brother will never be touched or made to feel unloved again,” Ivering kept repeating to himself as he made his way to his private chambers. Démic and Judith stayed there, always. Once he ensured the children were safe, he decided to finish his task.

Cassius stood before his wife, his eyes ablaze with unquenchable fire. All his feelings of protection and vengeance for his children pushed him to take a step he had never imagined before. Slowly, he raised his hand, his eyes fixed on his wife, who was still struggling to comprehend what was happening. She had always thought of herself as strong, invincible, but she wasn’t prepared for the force she was about to face.

Shadows began to gather around him as if emerging from nothingness. A black aura seeped from his feet, climbing upward, wrapping around his body like a thick shroud of living darkness. The aura pulsed as if it were a beating heart, born from his fury and iron will. The air in the room grew heavier, as if time itself had slowed.

Isolda stared at the shadows with eyes filled with amazement and terror. She never expected to witness such power. She tried to summon her strength, but something in the air drained her energy, like an irresistible vortex. The shadows unleashed by Cassius shot toward her with incredible speed, wrapping around her like a giant, hungry serpent, invading her body and soul.

Isolda screamed in a futile attempt to resist, but the shadows absorbed all her strength. She felt something cold and dry pulling away everything that made her powerful, as if her soul was being slowly drained. All her attempts to use her power failed; she was helpless, unable to summon even her most basic abilities. The shadows continued to coil around her, leaving faint black marks on her skin, eternal seals of an unmatched power.

Cassius's hands were still outstretched, controlling the shadows like a skilled commander maneuvering his army. He knew this moment wasn’t just about punishing her for harming his children but also reminding her that no matter how strong she became, she was nothing before him.

When he was finished, the shadows slowly dissipated, and the air returned to the room. Isolda collapsed to her knees, weak, helpless, barely able to breathe. The impact of his power was evident; she was no longer the strong woman she had been moments ago but had become a mere shell of weakness.

“Johan, tell the guards to take her to the dungeon. She will be executed tomorrow,” Cassius commanded.