บท 117: 117

Cedric.

I paced restlessly around my lavishly decorated study, a cavernous space adorned with ancient tomes, mystical artifacts, and the ethereal glow of flickering candles. 

Anger and turmoil churned within me, casting shadows upon my troubled soul. Too many things had gone awry lately, like dark tendrils creeping into the very fabric of my existence.

First, it was the hill country's audacious declaration of war, fueled by their misguided belief that we were responsible for the untimely demise of Jenna and Raga, the fearsome executioner. 

In an unfortunate twist of fate, Lana, my loyal confidante, had been falsely accused, leading me to imprison Stacey, a witch of dubious intentions, along with an old fae whose childish demeanor belied his cunning nature.

 Little did I know then that this would only serve to fan the flames of our adversaries' wrath. 

Stacey, in her treacherous escape to the treacherous hill country, had betrayed us all.