The throne room had never felt so… heavy.
Not with politics.
Not with power.
With age.
Ancient age.
The winged Old One still knelt before Ivy, its massive wings folded like fallen banners against the marble floor. The torches along the high walls flickered violently as if the air itself feared the creature’s presence.
Rowan stood beside Ivy’s throne, every muscle in his body tense.
If the thing so much as twitched wrong… he would attack.
Even if it meant dying.
The court watched in silence Alphas, commanders, elders, and warriors from the Five Territories.
No one spoke.
Because everyone felt it.
This creature was older than their entire history.
Ivy leaned forward slightly on the throne.
Her silver crown caught the firelight.
“Stand,” she said calmly.
The Old One lifted it
