King Philips POV
After escorting Lilith back to her bedroom, I returned to the king's hall, settling onto the throne that had long outlasted its era. My hands grasped the ancient armrests, fingers tightening as if I could draw some of its age-old strength into myself.
The throne—it was a relic, a crumbling reminder of power that had once been unchallenged. Built on the bones of empires long forgotten, its foundation wasn't stone or marble anymore—it was nature itself. Vines snaked around its base, tendrils of life creeping up the legs and arms, clutching at the cracks where the stone had given way. The carvings that had once adorned it were now little more than faint echoes of a lost language, eroded by time, their meaning as forgotten as the kings who sat here before me.
