Regan, still reeling from his actions, looks at me with newfound confusion and curiosity. The anger that had consumed him moments before has vanished, replaced by something I can’t decipher. I can feel the intensity of his stare as he tries to process what he’s seeing.
Regan’s confusion only grows, but before he can say anything, his father snarls, his gaze fixed on me. He believes I’m the witch who cursed his sons, and his anger is palpable. With blindingly fast movement, he steps toward me and roughly tears off the rest of my shirt, revealing the runes that run down my arms as well.
King Theron staggers back, his face twisted with hatred. “Witch,” he sneers, his eyes burning with hatred. He turns to the guards who had accompanied him into the basement. “Kill her!” he orders, his voice
