Kaelin’s POV
The Oakhaven barracks felt like a powder keg waiting for a single spark. I paced the length of the observation balcony, my boots clicking rhythmically against the obsidian floor – a sharp, cold sound that echoed the mounting tension in the corridors below. The golden ash from the mountain drifted through the open archways, coating the dark stone in a fine, shimmering dust that felt like a mockery of my sovereignty.
Down in the courtyard, the rotation of the shift guards stalled.
Instead of the usual mechanical precision, a cluster of soldiers stood in the centre of the square, their silver-plated helmets removed. They stared at the horizon, their faces slack with a dawning, terrifying realisation. The shadow-ink, which normally pulsated with a steady, obedient rhythm beneat
