Episode 5: The Wolf in Sheep's Clothes
The iron doors clanged shut.
The room fell into silence—thick, sharp, and waiting.
Then: the scrape of boots on stone.
A man, bloodied and bound, was thrown to the floor at the center of the throne hall.
He hit the marble hard, coughing, groaning—and then looked up.
His lips trembled.
"Your… Your Highness… why—why was I brought here?" he sobbed. "At least tell me what I've done… what my mistake is…"
From atop the obsidian throne, Emperor Eyan did not respond.
He rose.
Step by step, he descended.
His silver hair shimmered like a blade in the torchlight. Shadows coiled behind him, darker than the corners of the hall.
The man's eyes widened as he crawled backward.
From the void beneath Eyan's cloak, three wolves began to emerge—one after another, shadows twisting into sinew and fang.
Silent.
Loyal.
Hungry.
They flanked him without a word, eyes glowing gold in the gloom.
Eyan halted before the man.
He sat calmly on the edge of the platform.
"Your crime," he said quietly, "was touching what is most precious to me."
The man's breath hitched.
And then the begging started.
"Please—I didn't know—! I-I wouldn't have touched her if I knew she was yours—please, Your Highness—I didn't mean anything—please spare me—"
Eyan tilted his head, cold eyes watching him tremble.
Then he whispered:
"Talon. Fen. Mara."
The wolves raised their heads.
"You may have your feast."
The man didn't even have time to scream properly before the shadows lunged.
There was only the tearing of cloth, the crunch of bone, and the slow, wet thud of what came after.
Eyan watched.
Unmoved.
Unflinching.
Blood splattered against his cheek, warm and sticky. One drop slid toward his lip.
He exhaled.
Pulled a silk cloth from his coat.
Wiped the blood with slow, precise fingers.
Then muttered beneath his breath:
"Princess… you would've been so angry if you saw me like this."
A faint smile flickered.
Gone before it even reached his eyes.
He turned, his coat flaring behind him, and walked toward the exit. The wolves followed silently—sated, shadows once again.
And when the doors closed behind him, there was nothing left of the man who dared to touch the emperor's wife.
Only the blood.
And the throne.