The tower of the council was still with its morning mist a silent witness and monument to power and politics, but to Sophia it had begun to seem like a prison. What once felt like the center of progress now echoed with cold formality. The chandeliers were all sparkly, the columns all shinyl wondered where it all seemed hollow. Hollow.
She was seated in her own long council-chamber with quill and parchment before her.
The words came not no matter how hard she tried.
Her pen held with slight tremor on the page. She’d written reports under pressure before—during raids, after losses—but this felt different. She wasn’t afraid. She was exhausted. Mentally and emotionally.
Her thoughts were fractured.
Her instincts were sharper than ever.
But her heart… her heart ached.
Because Ethan had c
