“On your knees!” one shouted, grabbing a shrieking noblewoman by her hair and slamming her to the marble floor. Blood smeared across her jeweled headdress.

The orchestra stopped abruptly, instruments clattering to the ground. Nobles scrambled in chaos, tripping over each other as they tried to flee, only to be shoved back at swordpoint.

The infiltrators spread like a dark tide, dragging hostages into the centre of the ballroom. Gowns ripped, tiaras scattered, and sobs mingled with the thick smell of blood and perfume.

Cassian turned smoothly, his expression shifting into calm nobility as he raised his arm authoritatively.

“Stay where you are!” he commanded, his voice slicing through the screams. “Do not provoke them. Protect the women and children!”

His faction generals formed a defensive ring around him, their swords drawn as if protecting the hostages. To the trembling nobles, he looked like a valiant hero standing unafraid in the face of bloodshed.

“His Highness is protecting us…” “What a true Crown Prince…” “He will save us…!”

But Evelyn saw it.

The gleam of satisfaction in his eyes as he surveyed the terrified nobles.

The faint curl of triumph on his lips as he watched blood spill onto marble.

Evelyn’s eyes widened on his inhumanity. "That MONSTER!"

 She gripped her dress tightly trying to stay calm and slipped out of the ballroom silently and ran through the bloody corridors as fast as she could.

--------

Outside, Kayden’s sword clashed against an infiltrator’s blade, sparks flying in the darkened corridor. His formal black uniform was torn and splattered with blood as fire roared from a fallen candelabra behind him.

“Leon!” he shouted over the chaos. “Edward! Report your positions!”

Their lines were cut. Their counter units delayed. Everything was falling apart.

"Where is Evelyn?"

He shoved an enemy aside and charged towards the ballroom doors, only to find them barred shut from inside.

"Damn it… They outplayed us...we trusted the wrong people..." 

He slammed his fist against the marble pillar beside him, rage and fear clenching in his chest. 

-------

The Western Corridor,

The palace halls were drenched in the smell of blood and burning silk. Leon’s sword clashed against an infiltrator’s blade, sparks flying as he twisted and cut the enemy down with swift, brutal precision.

“Hold the line!” he shouted hoarsely to his knights, his chest heaving with exhaustion. Pain throbbed from a slash along his ribs, blood soaking his black uniform.

He glanced back quickly to see his father, the Duke, fighting alongside palace guards. Despite his age, the Duke swung his blade with disciplined strength, shielding the Duchess behind him.

“Father!” Leon shouted over the clanging steel. “Get Mother out of here! Retreat to the inner chambers!”

The Duke looked at his son with resolute eyes and shook his head. “No, Leon! I will not abandon you!”

But Leon saw it – infiltrators slipping past the guards behind them, archers taking position above, aiming straight for the Duchess and his father.

His stomach twisted in dread. There was no time.

He closed his eyes, agony coursing through him as he spoke the words that would haunt him forever.

 “Archers!”

“At the infiltrators behind the Duke—release… NOW!”

The Duke turned at the command just as the enemy archer fired. But the infiltrator lunged forward at Leon from the side, blade gleaming under torchlight.

“Leon!” the Duke roared.

He stepped forward, shoving his wife behind him and pushing Leon away just as the arrow found its mark – not in the infiltrator, but piercing through the Duke’s shoulder and into his chest.

“Father—!” Leon shouted, horror tearing through him as blood gushed from the wound, staining the Duke’s coat a deep, dark red.

The Duke gasped, his sword falling from his grip, clattering to the blood-slick marble. His knees buckled.

“Leon…” the Duke whispered faintly, his voice trembling with pain and love. 

“Protect… your mother… Evelyn… the Brighton name… Dont let that bastard...COUGH...t-ake...E-evelyn away

....”

His eyes fluttered shut as his body slumped against Catherine, slipping into an unresponsive coma, his breathing shallow and uneven.

“Father… FATHER!” Leon’s voice cracked as grief and rage burst through his chest. But there was no time to mourn.

He turned, swinging his sword to cut down another infiltrator, but pain seared through his side, his knees buckling beneath him. The world blurred around him as he stumbled back against a marble pillar, chest heaving, blood dripping onto the polished floor.

"Stay awake… I can’t die here…"

But another shadow stepped forward.

“Well, well… how the mighty Brighton heir falls.”

Leon raised his blurry eyes to see Count Edverard, his cloak swirling ominously, his sword gleaming silver in the firelight.

“You…Bastard…” Leon spat hoarsely, trying to lift his sword again, but his arms trembled violently.

Edverard laughed coldly. “Pathetic.”

He stepped forward, pressing his blade against Leon’s throat. “Goodbye, Lord Leon.”

Leon clenched his teeth, refusing to close his eyes, even as darkness clouded the edges of his vision.

“Stop it!”

Both men turned sharply. Sylvia stood there in her torn lilac gown, her hair falling messily around her trembling shoulders, eyes brimming with tears.

“Sylvia—” Edverard snapped, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Please… don’t…” she whispered brokenly, stepping forward and grabbing his sword arm with shaking hands. “Please… spare him… I beg you…”

He glared at her, fury twisting his features. “Move aside, Sylvia.”

But her grip tightened, tears dripping onto his gloved hand. “I’m sorry… Leon…” she whispered, her voice cracking as she looked at him with tearful eyes. “I’m so sorry… for everything…”

Leon’s chest twisted painfully as he gazed at her blurred figure, blood dripping from his lips.

“Sylvia…” he whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking as his vision dimmed.