Dusk's violet haze settled over the palace forge, where molten iron ran like blood into carved channels beneath the throne. Regent Asha's makeshift war machine—an immense censer of fire and metal—roared at its heart, awaiting the final ritual to bind the capital. Sylvie Lightwhisper, Thorne Blackveil, and their allies approached the shattered gates via the grand colonnade, footsteps echoing against marble pillars etched with Imperial sigils.
Thorne raised a gauntleted hand. “The forge's entrance is sealed by molten wards. We'll need to negotiate access with the Silver Chorus—Asha's elite arcanists who guard the ritual."
Sylvie nodded. “If I can parley—offer them a share in the new Council of Harmony—they may stand aside." She glanced at Lark, who carried the amplifier and the final cryst
