The Moon Watches in Silence
The palace stood untouched by time—a monument to eternity, a fortress of a man who defied the gods.
But tonight, the wind carried a scent Shree Yan had not smelled in years.
Smoke.
From the highest tower, his red eyes pierced the darkness. At the city's edge, a lone figure walked through the streets, leaving a trail of glowing embers in her wake.
Tara.
A ghost from the past. A fire that refused to die.
The people whispered in fear, their gazes flickering between the King and the burning shadow approaching his gates.
Shree Yan let out a quiet breath.
"Fate is a wheel," he murmured. "And some fools never learn when to step off."
A Fire That Remembers
Tara's footsteps did not falter.
The flames curled around her, breathing with her anger. Not wild, not reckless—controlled. Sharpened. A blade of vengeance.
She reached the grand gates of the palace and raised a hand.
The fire obeyed.
With a single motion, the doors—once thought indestructible—shattered into molten ruin.
The palace trembled.
The Immortal King rose from his throne.
And for the first time in a hundred years, war returned to his doorstep.