The King's Unspoken Vigil
Dawn's pale light crept through the narrow windows of the hidden sanctuary beneath the Moon Chapel. Snow drifted faintly through broken lattice, dusting armguards and scabbards lining the walls. Vera Lanst lay propped against a bundle of furs, feverish and weak; Yurian Helios knelt by her side, crushing rare herbs into poultices with shaking hands.
Outside, muffled thunder echoed across the catacombs as Borderhold's bells tolled the hour. Each peal carried news of victory and warning of unfinished storms. In the hush between, Vera's eyelids fluttered.
“Vera," Yurian murmured, pressing a cool cloth to her brow. “Can you hear me?"
She stirred, voice a soft rasp. “Yurian…"
He bent close, amber eyes glinting with relief. “You live. The Moon Vow held—you saved us
