Kaelen trudged back to his chambers in Vernal Keep, each step heavier than the last, as though the stone corridors themselves conspired to drag him down.
The council meeting had been a relentless gauntlet of arguments, veiled threats, and impossible decisions, all piling onto the already crushing weight of leadership.
The fate of Caldris—his kingdom, his legacy—rested squarely on his shoulders, and tonight, that burden felt like a millstone grinding him into dust.
He pushed open the door to his chambers, the familiar creak of hinges a hollow greeting. Inside, the dim light of flickering candles cast long, wavering shadows across the room, their glow barely touching the corners where darkness pooled.
The hearth held only dying embers, a faint red pulse that offered little warmth, yet the atmosphere was thick with intimacy and secrecy—a sanctuary and a trap all at once.
There, in the midst of this shadowed stillness, sat Elara.
