Shadows of the Past

The feast in the great hall was meant to be a celebration—one of victory, of unity, of a kingdom reborn. Yet, beneath the laughter and raised goblets, there was an undercurrent of tension. The nobles sat stiffly at their tables, offering polite smiles but whispering among themselves. The soldiers drank heartily, but their eyes flicked toward Xypheron and Vexaria, wary of what would come next.

Vexaria sat beside Xypheron, a goblet in her hand, but she barely sipped from it. Instead, her gaze scanned the room, searching for the inevitable—the one who would make the first move. Because peace was never truly peace. There were always those who sought to unmake it.

Xypheron, ever composed, leaned toward her. "You feel it too."

She nodded. "Someone in this room wants you dead."

He smirked. "That's not new."

Before she could respond, the doors to the hall swung open, and a cloaked figure strode in. The guards tensed, hands on their weapons, but Xypheron lifted a hand, signaling them to wait.

The figure pulled back their hood, revealing an older man with deep scars tracing his face. His sharp eyes scanned the room before settling on Xypheron.

"Your Majesty," he said, voice rough from years of battle. "I bring news from the north."

Xypheron's expression darkened. "Speak."

"The remnants of the old enemy forces have regrouped. They refuse to recognize your rule."

A hush fell over the hall.

Vexaria clenched her jaw. "So the war isn't over."

The man shook his head. "Not yet."

Xypheron leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping against the goblet before him. He had expected this. Power was never taken without consequence.

He stood, his presence commanding the room into silence.

"Then let them come," he said, his voice like steel. "I will show them why I sit on this throne."

The hall erupted in murmurs, some in fear, some in admiration. But one thing was clear—this peace was uneasy, and shadows of war still lurked at the edges of their kingdom.

Vexaria rose beside him, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her blade. She met his gaze, a silent promise passing between them.

Together, they would face whatever came next.

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