Chapter 40
Elara’s POV
The memorial square was draped in somber black and silver, banners rippling weakly in the cold wind. The smell of candle wax and incense clung to the air, mingling with the sharper scent of iron from the soldiers standing in formation around the dais. Hundreds—perhaps thousands—had gathered, their voices hushed, their eyes heavy with grief. Families clutched portraits of the fallen, while others bore simple tokens: a ribbon, a pendant, a blood-stained glove preserved in memory.
I stood at the edge of the platform, Lucien just behind me, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword as if daring anyone to make a move against me. My chest ached as I scanned the crowd, each tear-streaked face a reminder that every decision I made now carried weight not only for m
