Azaelith couldn't shake the old man's words. She needed answers, and her only lead was the royal family. There had to be something in their records, something to explain the dark magic that had killed her—and now brought her back.
The city had always been a place of secrets and power. The royal palace loomed in the distance, its spires rising like fingers toward the heavens, but Azaelith knew better than to trust in appearances. She had seen the darkness beneath the surface. Her father had warned her. But she was different now—stronger, more dangerous.
She had to find a way inside.
The shadows had been calling to her since she had woken up, a whisper in her mind, urging her forward. She could feel them move beneath her skin, pulling her into their embrace.
As she approached the palace walls, she felt the pulse of magic vibrate beneath her feet. The royal family's sorcery was strong, ancient. But so was hers.
She reached out with her senses, stretching out into the dark corners of the city. The shadows wrapped themselves around her, familiar and comforting. She felt herself merging with them, her form slipping from sight as she blended into the night.
Inside the palace walls, a faint light flickered. She approached cautiously, unseen by the guards who patrolled the perimeter. She had learned quickly that she could move through the shadows, unseen, unnoticed. The shadows were her allies now, and she would use them to uncover the truth.