Restful Slumber
Adrian undid the soundproof barrier with a flick of his fingers, the faint shimmer of magic dissipating into the air like morning mist under sunlight. He turned his back to the King, who stood frozen, locked in his own tumultuous thoughts. A small part of Adrian considered staying, perhaps pushing the knife a little deeper—not with violence, but with words, the kind that left lasting scars.
But no, he dismissed the idea.
Revenge, even small and fleeting, didn't suit him.
He preferred his current actions: a measured strike that planted seeds of doubt and forced the King to reckon with his own mistakes. That was enough.