The southern court woke to a silence that felt wrong.
Not peaceful.
Watchful.
Glosh stood on the highest balcony of the fortress, the stone cold beneath her bare feet. Dawn painted the horizon in bruised colors—violet, red, gold—like the sky itself bore witness to what had been uncovered in the night.
Her parents were not victims of fate.
They were executed.
The thought no longer burned.
It hardened.
Behind her, Kael watched closely. He hadn’t slept either. She could feel his concern like a low hum against her spine, restrained only by the knowledge that this moment was not about comfort.
It was about choice.
“They’ll try to control the narrative,” Kael said quietly. “They always do.”
Glosh nodded. “That’s why I won’t give them time.”
She turned from the balcony and strode towa
