Nero took a deep breath.
Wrath was at the gates.
His enchanted axe hit the front gate once more.
The soldiers were on their knees, praying.
Nero stepped before the gate. His breath was cold as winter, his heart beating like a rabbit.
"Wrath!" Nero didn't feel brave. He didn't feel just. He felt cold. His limbs were shaking.
How was he even going to swing his sword?
He shook his head. Now was not the time for such questions! Now was the time to act!
"Come into the courtyard if you dare!"
The king started to coat his sword with his very soul. How many months had he looked the other way? How many months had he been just a puppet? To be tugged this way and that. To be forced to trample on his people.
The soft tapping of boots was growing nearer. Nero took another step towards the gate.
"Open them," Nero commanded. Bloody tears were running down his cheeks. "Open the gates! I command you!"
"But my King!" One of the archers on the walls yelled, only to wither under Nero's gaze.
