The throne room burned with a fevered glow, torches bending in the draught of storm winds clawing at the Vale’s high walls. People pressed into the galleries above, nobles in their finery, guards at uneasy attention, and commoners who had slipped past the gates just to see truth or betrayal unmasked. They had gathered for judgment, but no decree had yet been spoken. Instead, a silence like a held breath clung to the air.At the foot of the dais stood Maxim Vale, shoulders squared, the Beast thrumming restless beneath his skin. His eyes flicked once to the throne—the Hollowed seat gilded with firelight—and found Ruby upon it. The crown sat heavy on her dark hair, jewels catching red as though flame lived inside them. Her gaze was sharp, too sharp, the whites threaded with faint streaks of smoke. She looked less like a queen and more like a storm given flesh.“You’ve kept them waiting,” Maxim said, his voice carrying over stone, over velvet, over the trembling of the crowd. “Tell them t
The nights in the Vale had grown colder, though no season could account for it. Wind scraped across the stone streets, carrying with it a silence that was not natural but watchful, as if the air itself listened. People hurried home earlier than before. Doors shut tighter. Lamps burned later. And yet, even with fire and light, shadows seemed thicker than they should be, as if drawn by something beneath the earth.Maxim felt it most when he walked alone. His Beast paced within, restless in ways he hadn’t known since the Hollow had fallen. The weight of Elira’s sacrifice should have steadied him, but instead it had sharpened his senses to every ripple, every tremor in the air. Something was moving—something unfinished.On the third night of the cold winds, a messenger arrived at the Silver Spire, face pale, cloak damp with frost. “The ground cracked,” he stammered. “Near the western ridge. Black light spilled from it—like smoke, but heavier. The farmers won’t go near.”Ruby dismissed it
The square at the heart of the Vale had never been so full. Men and women pressed shoulder to shoulder, their breath fogging in the autumn air. Children perched on the edges of stalls, their mothers clutching them close. The banners above the square bore the sigil of the crown, though the fabric hung heavy, as if even it were weary of the weight it carried.At the center stood Ruby, the firelight playing across her features. The crown glimmered against her dark hair, but it was her eyes that held the crowd—eyes smoldering with that unnatural gleam, as though something unseen whispered just behind them. She raised her hands, and silence rippled outward.“They call me usurper,” she began, her voice carrying on the wind. “They say the Vale’s heart belongs to Elira, the saint of sacrifice. But where is Elira now?”A murmur rose from the gathered, some shifting uneasily, others whispering her name in reverence. Ruby let the sound roll before she struck again.“Do you not see? Elira was a s
The night after Ruby’s firestorm left the Vale shaken. The square still stank of char and smoke, the cobblestones blackened where her fury had scorched dissenters into silence. But silence was all it bought her.Maxim stood at the edge of the ruined square, watching the people drift away in hushed, broken clusters. No chants of loyalty followed Ruby back to the palace. No shouts of defiance dared challenge her openly. Only that hollow quiet, the kind that clung to grief.The Beast in him paced restlessly, teeth bared at unseen foes. It hungered for battle, for something to strike, but Maxim forced it still. His hands tightened at his sides, remembering Zara’s pale face only hours before, the way her voice cracked as she whispered her last threads of counsel. Carry Elira as vow, not wound.Now, in the blackened square, those words pulsed in him like a second heartbeat.A man approached—a baker, soot streaking his apron, eyes weary. “Lord Vale,” he rasped, not meeting Maxim’s gaze. “Is
The great hall of Silver & Vale burned with gold firelight, but the warmth did nothing to ease the cold tension pressing down on the room. Ruby sat on the throne as if it had been carved from her own ambition. Her fingers traced the carved wolf heads on the armrests, nails tapping in a restless rhythm. Above her, banners hung heavy with the Vale crest, shadows twisting them into something darker than mere fabric.She had waited her whole life for this moment—yet instead of triumph, all she felt was the hollow echo of power without purpose.The whispers began as soon as the court doors opened. Delegates, merchants, and courtiers spilled inside, their voices sharp with discontent.“Taxes choke the merchants.”“Wolves starve while the council feasts.”“Vale bloodlines bring nothing but ruin.”Ruby’s lips curled in disdain. “Let them starve if they cannot learn loyalty,” she murmured under her breath.But she knew the truth—loyalty was cracking. The Heir Trial had left scars on more than
The world had never felt so quiet.The battlefield, moments ago alive with roars, steel, and magic, now lay shrouded in a silence that pressed against every heart. Smoke curled upward from charred stone, carrying the bitter stench of burned earth. The cries of the dying had ebbed to an eerie hush, broken only by the wind sweeping ash across the ruined hall.Zara lay in the center of it all, her body a fragile silhouette against the wreckage.Maxim knelt beside her, his hands trembling as though even touching her might break what little remained. His beast had torn itself to pieces to shield her. His soul screamed to fight, to claw the life back into her body—but the reality before him was merciless. Her breaths were shallow, each one weaker than the last, her chest rising with the faint rhythm of someone who knew the end had already arrived.“No,” he whispered hoarsely, his forehead pressing against hers. “No, not like this. Not you.”Her lips curved faintly, as if she could hear the