The staff came down.
Sapphrine's grey eyes—empty of love, empty of mercy—watched as her son died on the cross.
Darth's final scream was muffled by the gag. His eyes wide with betrayal. With disbelief.
His mother had killed him.
But death was not the end.
Clandareth's corruption had touched Darth before his execution.
The blood on his robes. The murders Lance forced him to commit while his body was controlled.
That corruption lingered.
And when Darth died with rage in his heart, with betrayal burning in his soul...
He rose.
Not as a Guardian. Not as human.
But as something new. Something twisted by anger and injustice.
Eyes glowing red. Daemon magic coursing through him.
Power born from a mother's loveless execution of her innocent son.
The Daemon Prince was born.
Darth stood, reborn. The cross shattered behind him.
The crowd screamed. The guards fled.
And Sapphrine... felt nothing.
Her staff glowed. Her grey eyes met his burning red ones.
"Mother," he said, voice layered with daemon echoes.
"I will make you feel again."
"Even if I have to rip that love from the orb myself."
CONSEQUENCE: DAEMON PRINCE RISEN
Darth lives. But as something monstrous. Driven by rage and a twisted desire to make his mother love again.