THE GOD OF WAR'S RETURN: ADRIAN'S SECOND CHANCE

The grand hall was alive with laughter and music. Flames danced in the iron chandeliers, spilling warm light across the stone walls. The smell of roasted meat, fresh bread, and spiced wine filled the air. The long wooden table gleamed with golden plates, piled high with food.

Adrian Voss sat at the head of the table, his fingers resting lightly on the rim of his goblet. The deep red wine inside shifted as he moved his hand. Around him, his warriors drank, their voices loud with celebration. It was a feast in his honor.

Killian, his younger brother, leaned back in his chair, grinning. He had already drunk more than he should, his eyes bright with mischief as he lifted his cup.

“You’re too quiet, Adrian,” Killian said, nudging him. “Is our great king not enjoying his own feast?”

Adrian smirked. “A king must stay sharp.”

Killian laughed and turned to the men. “Then let’s drink for him!”

The warriors roared, slamming their cups together before swallowing their wine. Adrian lifted his own goblet but did not drink. Something unsettled him.

Across from him, Seraphina, his wife, watched with a soft smile. Her beauty had always drawn eyes, but tonight there was something different. Her dark gaze held an unreadable glint that pointed at him.

A cold shiver crept through Adrian’s back.

Seraphina leaned close, her breath warm against his skin.

“You should relax, my love,” she whispered, her fingers trailing down his arm.

“Tonight is for you.”

Adrian forced a smile, though his thoughts raced.

His eyes fell to her hand. It hovered near her waist, never far from the dagger she always carried. She had brought it to countless halls before, but why touch it now?

Across the table, Killian exchanged a fleeting glance with one of the warriors. Quick, hidden. Most would have missed it.

Adrian did not.

The meaning was silent yet clear.

His grip tightened on his cup.

He glanced toward the entrance. The guards had changed. Strangers now stood there, their hands resting on their weapons. The royal guards he trusted most were nowhere in sight.

His heartbeat slowed, heavy and deliberate.

Something was about to happen.

Killian rose to his feet, goblet raised. “A toast!” he called.

“To Adrian Voss, a king greater than all before him!”

The men cheered, pounding the table. Adrian raised his cup but still didn’t drink.

The hall’s warmth grew suffocating. The light seemed weaker. The air pressed thick against his lungs.

Killian sat again, turning his cup between his hands. “You know, brother,” he said, too casually, “we’ve been talking. About the kingdom. About its future.”

Adrian’s eyes fixed on him. “And?”

Killian smirked, slow and deliberate.

“We think it’s time for new leadership.”

Silence engulfed the hall.

The doors burst open.

Armed men stormed inside, their boots hammering against the stone. Swords gleamed under the candlelight, faces hidden beneath dark cloth.

The warriors leapt from their seats, but none moved to defend Adrian.

Ice clenched in his chest.

Adrian rose, hand going for his sword, but Killian shoved him back into his chair.

Their eyes locked.

Killian sighed. “I hoped you wouldn’t make this difficult.”

Adrian’s fingers twitched toward his weapon, but before he could reach it, cold steel slid into his side.

The pain was instant, sharp and searing. His breath caught.

He turned his head. Seraphina.

The dagger was still in her hand, her grip unshaken. The warmth in her eyes had vanished.

“I’m sorry, my love,” she whispered, though her face betrayed no sorrow.

Adrian staggered, knees buckling. He fell against the cold stone floor. Blood spread through his tunic, dripping onto the ground.

His breaths grew worn out. The hall spun. His warriors, his people, all had turned their backs on him.

Killian crouched beside him, resting an elbow on his knee. “You were too strong, Adrian. Too feared. We couldn’t let you rule forever.”

Adrian tried to rise, but his limbs were heavy. His vision blurred, shadows pressing closer.

Then a voice spoke.

Soft. Ancient. Powerful.

“Do you wish to change your fate?”