Erythro: The Prophecy Unveiled

King Alexander fixed a narrowed gaze on Lady Jane, causing her to flinch and lower her head in submission. The tension in the air was palpable as the soldier stationed at the ball revealed himself to be none other than Russel Pearson. With a swift stride, Russel approached the king and bowed deeply, his presence commanding the room.

Meanwhile, Rose felt her heart pound frantically in her chest, her mind swirling with confusion and fear. She turned to Nesthor, seeking reassurance, but he still refused to meet her gaze.

Lord Nesthor stood rigidly, his head bowed low as he stared at the ground, seemingly lost in thought or shame. The weight of the moment pressed down on him, and his silence only heightened Rose's anxiety. She could sense that something significant was unfolding, but Nesthor's refusal to acknowledge her left her feeling isolated and uncertain. The once elegant ball had taken on a foreboding atmosphere, and Rose could only wonder what her fate would be.

"It is a tradition in Carthage to make an execution an added form of entertainment. What could be more satisfying than watching your enemy fall before your very eyes, hearing their wails and pleas for mercy?" King Alexander continued, his voice smooth and composed. As he spoke, he glanced at Lord Nesthor with a kind smile, but the warmth in his expression sharply contrasted with the cold cruelty of his words.

Lord Nesthor's eyes widened in shock at the king's pronouncement, though he remained silent, holding back any reaction that might betray his inner turmoil. He cast a furtive glance at his wife, who barely concealed a satisfied smile behind the fan she held delicately before her face. The king's declaration had clearly struck a chord with Rose, and the implications of what was to come hung heavily in the air. Nesthor's unease deepened as he realized how deeply this twisted tradition was ingrained in the court's culture.

The king's voice rang out again, this time with a sharp edge that cut through the murmurs of the crowd. "It is a crime for a lowly maid to enter a grand royal ball. Such an act is a grave disrespect to your king and to the empire. Adultery is also strictly forbidden in this empire."

The crowd, sensing the imminent spectacle, murmured their approval, their eyes turning to Rose with anticipation. Most of them watched her with undisguised glee, eager to witness her downfall. The atmosphere was charged with a sinister excitement, as the crowd waited, almost hungrily, for the moment when Rose would face her doom.

Rose's face turned ashen, her hands trembling uncontrollably with fear as the gruesome memory of Julia's execution played over and over in her mind. Panic gripped her, making it impossible to think clearly.

Meanwhile, Prince Sebastian, noticing the sudden commotion, rose swiftly from his chair and approached his father. His eyes swept across the scene, taking in the sight of the terrified woman at the center of the gathering and the eager faces of the spectators surrounding her. Confusion clouded his features as he tried to make sense of the unfolding events.

King Alexander, catching sight of his son's bewildered expression, offered him a warm, reassuring smile before turning to the soldier at his side. With a calm authority that belied the brutality of the act, the king issued his command. At once, the crowd parted, creating a clear space in the center of the room for the execution to take place. The air was thick with anticipation. Russel stepped forward, his grip firm as he seized Rose's trembling hand and forced her to her knees. The room seemed to close in on her, the reality of her situation crashing down with terrifying clarity.

Tears welled up in Rose's eyes as she desperately looked toward Lord Nesthor and Lady Jane, her voice trembling with fear. "Please, help me! I'm sorry," she pleaded, her words a desperate cry for mercy. But before she could say more, Russel's voice thundered through the hall, "Kneel!" He pointed his gleaming sword at her, leaving Rose with no choice but to drop to the ground, utterly defeated and helpless.

Meanwhile, in the bustling kitchen, Madeline slipped inside unnoticed, her small figure lost among the flurry of activity as the servants prepared for the royal ball. The head cook was too preoccupied to see her, and Madeline's heart sank when she realized her mother, Theresa, was nowhere to be found. Desperation drove her to tug at the hem of a passing maid's shirt. The maid stopped abruptly, irritation flashing in her eyes as she glared down at the child.

"What are you doing? You're not supposed to be here!" she snapped. Undeterred by the harsh tone, Madeline, with tears brimming in her eyes, asked quietly, "Did you see Aunt Theresa?" The maid sighed deeply, her impatience evident, and replied, "Theresa is at the grand hall. You can wait for her in the servants' quarters."

Madeline nodded quietly, her eyes scanning the busy kitchen as she made up her mind to catch a glimpse of the grand hall in hopes of finding her mother. Spotting a maid carrying trays of food, Madeline decided to follow her, staying close enough to blend in but far enough to remain unnoticed. With careful, silent steps, she trailed behind the maid until they reached the entrance to the grand hall. Taking a deep breath, Madeline slipped inside through the back, her heart pounding with both excitement and nervousness.

As she stepped into the grand hall, Madeline's eyes widened in awe. The scene before her was unlike anything she had ever seen—a dazzling spectacle of elegantly dressed people walking, talking, and dancing amidst the flickering candlelight and ornate decorations. Her mouth hung open in amazement, captivated by the grandeur of the event. But the fear of being caught soon crept in, and Madeline quickly sought a place to hide. Spotting a long table draped with a heavy cloth, she hurriedly crawled underneath it, peeking out from her hiding spot as she continued to search for her mother, hoping to catch a glimpse of her amidst the glittering crowd.

Emily ducked her head, her fingers gripping Theresa's tightly. As she cautiously raised her gaze, she witnessed a horrifying scene. Russel, with a swift and decisive motion, swung his sword, striking Rose's neck. Blood gushed forth, staining the floor, as Rose's lifeless head rolled to the ground. The severed head continued its gruesome journey until it came to a jarring halt on a nearby table, where Madeline was hiding.

The sight of the decapitated head sent a wave of terror through the young girl. She let out a blood-curdling scream, breaking free from her hiding place and bolting towards the nearest exit. The sudden shout startled the guests, who turned to look at the fleeing girl with confusion.

Emily stood frozen, her mind struggling to process what was happening, her feet seemingly glued to the ground. It wasn't until Madeline's frantic shout pierced the air that Emily snapped out of her daze. She turned just in time to see Theresa's wide-eyed gaze lock onto hers. "It's Madeline," Theresa whispered in shock, as she spotted the child running through the chaos. Without a moment's hesitation, Theresa took off after her, leaving Emily standing there, overwhelmed and alone.

Meanwhile, Prince Sebastian surveyed the scene unfolding around him with a growing sense of unease. The crowd, intoxicated by the gruesome spectacle, seemed to revel in the execution, their cheers and applause echoing throughout the hall. Many of the guests clapped their hands, openly praising the soldier for his skill with the sword. Disgust curled in the prince's stomach, and he narrowed his eyes, contemplating whether to stay or leave. Just as he was about to turn away, Madeline's desperate shout reached his ears, pulling his attention back to the commotion.

Prince Sebastian's gaze snapped to the door, where he saw Madeline running with all her might. Anger flared in his chest as he turned his eyes toward his father, King Alexander. The king, sensing his son's heated stare, met his gaze and responded with a smirk that only deepened the prince's fury. The casual cruelty in his father's expression was enough to confirm Sebastian's worst fears about the nature of the event.

Sir Roland, standing nearby, noticed the silent exchange between the king and his son. A knowing smile played on his lips.