The storm outside had not abated by morning. In fact, it seemed to have worsened, as if the elements themselves were mirroring the brewing chaos within the Iron Citadel. Camilla stood at her small window, gazing out into the bleak, rain-soaked landscape. The Citadel's towering black walls loomed over the horizon, cutting through the fog like an unyielding fortress.
Her hand rested on the cool glass, her fingers tracing the droplets that gathered there. She had never felt so out of place in all her life. She had arrived here with a singular mission—save her brother, fulfill the contract, and leave. But now, with each passing day, the lines between duty and desire, between what was required of her and what she truly wanted, blurred more and more.
A small chime interrupted her thoughts. Her
