27th of October, 150 GD

Insoan Royal Palace

They stormed through the tunnel, heading toward the throne room. Thrai was shaking, trying to take everything in. She only saw glimpses of what lay beyond the stone passage, but what she saw amazed her. The entire room was encased in a cubic shell of glass, and at the end of the shaft was a staircase carved with intricate designs, which most likely led to the throne. As Anil walked through the end of the tunnel, he was blinded by the golden light shattered, cut into a million different pieces by the glass. Next to him, Thrai was halted by a scythe hovering centimetres from her face.

Two guards stepped away from around the corner of the entrance, and into Thrai's view. Anil wasted no time in dealing with his opponent, brandishing a dagger and rushing his opponent. Thrai took it slower, taking out her dirk. The cleaver swung at her, just managing to draw blood from a shallow gash in her stomach. The cleaver swung and swung, cutting through air, and occasionally managing to land a strike on Thrai. She stumbled backwards, her attacks becoming slower and staggered. Thrai, losing any fight left in her, slumped down on the wall. As she prepared for death, she closed her eyes and prayed. She wasn't usually a religious person, but the events of the past day had made her hope otherwise. She heard a body fall and readied the sound of her . Thrai opened her eyes, just in time to see scythe implant itself in the guard's body. The guard collapsed, and his body was kicked off the bridge. She heard a crash of glass resonate around the room, exposing the room to the outside noises.

 Anil walked to Thrai and helped her up, before quickly realising that she was too weak to stand. He walked up to the throne, and she heard the king's grovels. She heard him mumble pleas through a tangle of unintelligible noises. She saw Anil raise his scythe. Her vision blurred in a mess of tears and fatigue. Thrai was becoming weaker and weaker. She saw Anil go for the killing blow, but hover. She saw him whisper something in the King's ear. Then just as quickly as Anil stopped it, he resumed the arc of his scythe.

As the blade soared to towards its final target in the king's neck, the king thought. He dreamt of a world where a revolution never took place, and the population hailed him as the great leader he knew he was. That thought pleased him.