First message
The coliseum was not built for spectacle.
It was built for judgment.
Stone rose in steep, unforgiving tiers, carved with ancient runes that glowed faintly beneath torchlight. The air was colder here than anywhere else in the kingdom—like the place itself rejected warmth.
At the center—
Iron chains dragged across the floor.
They had stripped him of everything but the essentials.
No vials.
No blades.
No hidden poisons.
Only blackened fabric hung from his frame now, loose against a body grown thinner with each passing day. His wrists were bound in heavy chains, arms pulled just enough to keep him from standing fully straight.
Starved.
Weakened.
Contained.