Beyond the palace walls, the world was shifting.
A rider arrived in the dead of night, his cloak heavy with dust and his expression grim. He did not stop to rest, did not spare a moment for breath—only pushed forward, straight to the war council's chamber.
Lord Aldric was already waiting.
The message was brief, but it changed everything.
"The western outpost has fallen."
A hush fell over the room. Then, a single question broke the silence.
"Was it the rebels?"
The messenger hesitated. "No. It was something else. Something worse."
The candlelight flickered. A chill ran through the chamber.
And somewhere in the palace, Kaelith and Seraphine lay tangled in warmth—unaware that their world was about to shatter.
To be continued…
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