Everyone was present.
Lucius.
The King.
The Queen.
Luis.
His brothers.
Elaine.
Sylas stood in front of them all—alone, but unshaken.
His shadow stretched long beneath him.
His breath steady.
His voice… not.
He reached out his hand.
"Now hand over this nation to me."
He paused.
A pulse ran through the air.
His eyes began to glow—soft at first, then blinding gold.
"Don't make me do something…"
His voice cracked slightly—not from weakness, but from the weight of what came next.
"…that I know I'll regret."
He didn't want to do this.
This went against everything he had ever fought for as Arthur.
He could see himself as Arthur standing beside him, just behind his shoulder, eyes filled with disappointment. Disgust.
But he didn't look away.
Because he knew this was the only way.
Even if it meant becoming the very thing he swore to fight.
Even if this was how it all began.
He would do it.
Not for glory. Not for pride.
But because he had to.
