The night air was thick with smoke and fear. Blackwater Hollow, Hollowridge, and Ashbrook all teetered on the edge of collapse, each town reflecting the chaos Edrin had carefully orchestrated. Messages came in faster than Selene or Adrian could process: fires, riots, militia misdirection, stolen supplies.Selene’s hands shook as she read aloud one dispatch after another. “Three towns—simultaneously. If we don’t act right now, people die.”Adrian’s eyes were cold, sharp as obsidian. “And if we act without precision, more die. Soldiers, civilians—everyone. Edrin is baiting us. He knows our instincts. He’s pushing us toward a choice where every outcome carries blood.”Selene exhaled, heart pounding. “Then we make the choice. Together.”The Impossible DecisionThe problem was simple—and devastatingly cruel.In each town, a fire raged that could not be contained by local efforts alone. Militias in Hollowridge were misdirected, leaving borders open. Ashbrook’s townsfolk, manipulated by Edri

Redmere did not burn.That was why it mattered.The town still stood when the first travelers arrived—its gates intact, its wells full, its fields untrampled. The dead had been buried properly. Sixteen names carved into a single stone near the council hall, cleanly cut, carefully spaced. No one tried to hide what had happened.They displayed it.Edrin arrived three days later, not with banners or guards, but as a man in a travel-worn cloak, dust on his boots, grief on his face. He did not speak at first. He walked the town. He listened.At the stone, he knelt.“Who decided?” he asked quietly.A councilman answered, voice hoarse. “We did.”“Why?”“We were afraid,” the man said. “Afraid if we called for help, we’d lose control. Afraid we’d be overridden. Afraid we’d be… managed.”Edrin nodded as if confirming something he already knew.“You chose for yourselves,” he said. “And paid the price.”The councilman braced for condemnation.None came.Instead, Edrin stood and addressed the gath

The warning came too late to be gentle.A runner collapsed at the gates before dawn, blood crusted at his mouth, eyes wild with terror. He barely managed the words before he lost consciousness.“—the reservoirs… poisoned… three towns downstream…”Adrian was already moving before the healers reached the man.Maps were spread across the war table within minutes. Red lines traced rivers and canals. Blue pins marked towns—densely populated, unfortified, unready.Selene arrived as the truth settled into place.“If the flow isn’t stopped,” Kael said, voice tight, “by nightfall, forty thousand people drink death.”Silence.Selene stared at the map. “Who controls the gates?”Kael hesitated. “The River Concord.”Selene closed her eyes.The Concord was not a town. It was an alliance—seven river communities that governed the water jointly. They had adopted Selene’s model first. No overrides. No unilateral force. Every decision required consensus.Consensus took time.Time they did not have.“The

The revelation did not come as an attack.It came as a truth, laid gently where it could do the most damage.The first letter arrived at dawn.It bore no seal, no crest—only a single line written in a steady, familiar hand.Ask Selene what the Shadow King whispered to her before Julian burned.Adrian read it twice.Then a third time.He did not show it to Kael. He did not summon the council. He folded the letter carefully and put it inside his coat, where it pressed against his ribs like a second heart.By noon, Selene had received her own message.Hers was worse.SeleneThe parchment trembled in her hands.You remember the name he called you—when the crown almost fit.Her breath left her in a sharp, silent rush.She had never told anyone that part.Not Adrian. Not the healers. Not even herself, not fully.She crushed the parchment and turned away from the window, pulse racing.Julian’s voice had been many things—cruel, seductive, triumphant—but in that final moment, as shadowfire tor

Morning came without ceremony.No bells. No proclamations. Just the sound of carts on stone and voices lowered—not in fear, but in judgment.Adrian stood in the council chamber alone.He had dismissed the guards.If the weight was his now, he would carry it without armor.The reports lay open on the table: Redmere stabilized, borders enforced, food convoys rerouted under protectorate authority. The numbers were clean. The outcome indisputable.Thousands saved.And yet—Outside, a small crowd had gathered. Not shouting. Not pleading.Watching.They were learning what power cost, and they were learning it by watching him pay.A Throne Without a Crown“You ruled like a king yesterday.”The voice came from behind him.Adrian didn’t turn. “I enforced like a protector.”Selene stepped into the chamber, her hands wrapped in linen—burns still healing. She had not hidden them.“People don’t care about the difference,” she said. “They care that someone decided for them.”“And if I hadn’t?” he a