The Hollow Throne
The palace was a tomb. Valencia walked its halls alone, the echoes of her footsteps swallowed by the silence. The bond's severing had left her hollow, her veins aching with a phantom pain that no salve could soothe. Xyrus was gone—vanished in the mine's collapse—and the weight of his absence pressed heavier than any crown.
The rebel leader, now self-proclaimed Queen Nyssa of Pherr, had wasted no time consolidating power. Her crow-feather banners hung where Valencia's crescent moon once gleamed, and her decrees echoed through the streets: *The old ways are dead. The vines are dead. Long live the new order.*
Valencia's people had not risen against her—not yet. But their eyes followed her with a mix of pity and resentment, as if she were a ghost haunting her own kingdom.
---
In the crypts, Valencia knelt before Liora's tomb, her fingers tracing the inscription. *"The crown is a root. It feeds on the queen."*
"You warned me," she whispered, her voice cracking. "But I didn't listen."
A shadow shifted behind her. Valencia spun, her dagger drawn, but the figure stepped into the light—a Feron soldier, his armor scorched and his face streaked with soot.
"Your Highness," he rasped, dropping to one knee. "Prince Xyrus… he's alive."
Her heart stuttered. "Where?"
"The Deadmarsh. Lysandra's forces took him after the collapse. They're holding him in the Viper's Spire."
Valencia's grip tightened on the dagger. "Why tell me this?"
The soldier hesitated. "Because he asked for you."
---
The journey to the Deadmarsh was a blur of ash and agony. Valencia moved like a wraith, her body fueled by desperation and the faint hope that Xyrus's survival meant the bond wasn't entirely broken.
The Viper's Spire loomed ahead, its obsidian walls glistening like scales. Lysandra's sentries patrolled the perimeter, their serpent mounts hissing as Valencia slipped past them, her movements silent and precise.
She found Xyrus in a cell carved from black stone, his wrists chained to the wall. His face was bruised, his silver armor stripped, but his eyes burned with defiance.
"Took you long enough," he said, his voice rough but laced with relief.
Valencia knelt before him, her hands trembling as she worked the locks. "You're an idiot for getting caught."
"And you're a fool for coming alone."
Their banter was a fragile thread, but it steadied her. When the chains fell away, Xyrus caught her hand, his grip warm and grounding.
"The bond," he said, his voice low. "It's gone, isn't it?"
She nodded, her throat tight. "But we're still here."
---
Their escape was a storm of steel and shadows. Lysandra's forces pursued them through the marsh, their venom-tipped arrows hissing past Valencia's ears. Xyrus fought beside her, his movements slower without the bond's strength but no less lethal.
At the edge of the marsh, they turned, their backs to the rising sun. Lysandra's forces halted, their serpents coiling as the viper queen herself emerged, her scaled armor glinting like a predator's smile.
"Running so soon?" she purred. "And here I thought we were just getting acquainted."
Valencia stepped forward, her dagger raised. "You've lost, Vela. The vines are gone. Your corruption ends here."
Lysandra laughed, the sound like shattering glass. "Oh, little queen. You think this is about the vines? This is about *power*. And you've just handed it to me."
She snapped her fingers, and the ground beneath them *shifted*. The marsh's rot surged, twisting into grotesque shapes—soldiers of decay, their eyes glowing with Lysandra's venom.
Xyrus grabbed Valencia's arm. "We can't fight this."
"We don't have to," she said, her voice steady. "We just have to outrun it."
---
They fled to the border, where Feron's forces waited, their banners frayed but defiant. The soldiers parted as Valencia and Xyrus approached, their faces a mix of awe and disbelief.
"Your Highness," a captain said, bowing. "We thought you were dead."
"Not yet," Valencia said, her voice carrying across the ranks. "And neither is Feron."
Xyrus stood at her side, his presence a silent promise. Together, they faced the horizon, where Lysandra's forces gathered like a storm.
---
That night, in the war tent, Valencia unrolled the map of the borderlands. Xyrus watched her, his expression unreadable.
"The bond's gone," he said finally. "But we're still here."
She looked up, her eyes glinting. "Then let's make them regret it."
---