Marked in the Middle
The bond between queen and throne, the one forged when she accepted her crown, was pulsing, reacting to the power gathering ahead.
Something was coming.
Something familiar.
By midday, the first wave reached the ridge.
Through the haze, the Black Heir appeared.
She rode at the head of the army astride a dark mare, her armor glinting with onyx plates. A veil of black silk framed her face, but when the wind shifted, Evelyn caught a glimpse of her eyes, sharp, amber, and eerily familiar.
The soldiers around Evelyn murmured.
“Is that?”
“She looks like”
“Gods, it can’t be…”
Bab Populer