Nyxara Rising
The media still clung to his legend, repeating it as gospel.
Nyxara smirked. “Hero, right,” she muttered, voice low, the word a curse. His legacy was a tapestry of lies, each thread spun to bind the world to his vision. Now, the pattern unraveled—one tug, and it all fell apart.
Her rival mate drifted in, silent as shadow, leaning against the wall with the casual arrogance of an animal that knows it cannot be cornered. “He wasn’t supposed to fold,” he said, arms crossed, gaze steady on the flickering screen.