Ashes Beneath the Throne

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.