The Devil From Deira
“Whoever did this will pay.”
Outside, the first light of morning broke across the horizon — soft, deceptive, serene.
But beneath that calm, the storm was already gathering. In the capital, whispers spread that Adrian had threatened the Queen. In the palace, Indira smiled faintly as she sipped her morning tea, already plotting the next move.
And in the quiet chambers of Adrian’s castle, Isabelle dreamt restlessly, of fire, of blood, of a crown shattering into pieces.
The wind that swept through Deira carried an omen:
The devil had stirred, and the kingdom would soon tremble.
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