The thick fortress door shuddered under Layla’s fist as she pounded on it a second time. Behind it, she sensed the faint scuff of boots, a ragged breath—but the heir refused to open. The corridor’s torches flickered, casting twisting shadows across the stone walls, each flame a reminder that time was running out.
“Aria,” Layla pleaded, voice tight with suppressed anguish. “Please… talk to me.”
No response. She pressed her forehead to the wooden barrier, recalling days long past when her daughter ran these halls freely, her laughter echoing across carved archways. Now, the only sound was a trembling hush of separated breaths.
“Child, we don’t have much time,” Layla continued, voice breaking. “The Eclipse is almost at its peak—the realm is splitting at the seams. I beg you… let me in.”
A
