The Lord Commander’s private study was a sanctuary of absolute silence, insulated from the distant, muffled sounds of the Citadel's reconstruction.Theron stood before the far wall, his hands resting on the edge of a mahogany table, his eyes locked on the object mounted between two extinguished sconces.It appeared to be a mirror, not like the normal communication mirror. This one was framed in tarnished obsidian, but the glass reflected absolutely nothing—a pool of liquid shadow, an artifact from an era before the First Kings, untraceable by modern scrying and impervious to magical interception.Theron channelled a thin thread of his mana into the obsidian frame. The surface of the glass rippled like a disturbed pond.Slowly, five silhouettes materialized within the darkness. They possessed no discernible features, appearing only as jagged cutouts of deeper black against the shadowy void.Voices emanated from the glass, distorted and hollow, stripped of their natural cadence to ensur

The Grand Ballroom of the Royal Palace dazzled with an oppressive amount of wealth. Thousands of floating crystal orbs cast a warm, golden light over polished marble floors, illuminating the swirling silks and velvets of Veridia’s highest nobility.The air hummed with the delicate strains of a string quartet, the clinking of crystal flutes, and the low, poisonous murmur of high society gossip.The heavy mahogany doors at the entrance swung open.By the door was a majordomo who struck his staff thrice against the floor to announce new arrivals, but the words died in his throat as he read the invitation parchment handed to him.He swallowed hard, stepping aside without a word.Pyralis Cinderfall walked into the ballroom.He commanded the space instantly. He wore a tailored, midnight-blue doublet embroidered with subtle gold thread that caught the light with every step.His silver hair was swept back, highlighting his striking amber eyes and the polished metal plate resting on his cheek.

The music from the grand ballroom drifted through the upper corridors of the Royal Palace like a faint, mocking lullaby.Down below, the aristocracy of Veridia spun in circles of silk and velvet, completely oblivious to the predator navigating their gilded halls.Elara Vance moved with the liquid grace of a shadow, slipping from one marble pillar to the next. She kept her breathing shallow, her eyes constantly scanning the intersecting hallways for First Knight patrols.A few paces behind her, Princess Isolde matched her stealth perfectly. The royal heir had shed her voluminous ballgown for a sleek, dark riding outfit she had hidden in a linen closet, her platinum hair tied back in a severe, practical knot.Isolde’s unexpected cooperation was the direct result of a sealed letter Pyralis Cinderfall had managed to slip onto her pillow the previous night. Elara didn't know the exact contents of that parchment, but it had turned the Princess from a potential hostage into an active, highly