The aftermath of the battle in the Abyss felt like waking from a dream made of glass and thunder. The violet glow from my skin had receded into a low, rhythmic thrum, but the black veins remained visible—etched into my arms like a permanent map of the power I had claimed. Around us, the Great Hall of the North, once a place of feasts and golden light, was now a silent court of war, littered with the shattered remains of the Council’s arrogance.
The scent of ozone and burnt silk hung heavy in the air. I stood at the center of the wreckage, my blood-red velvet gown sweeping over the stone floor, catching on the jagged shards of fine china. My hands still felt heavy, the residual weight of the Seal of the Eclipse humming in my marrow.
Silas stood a few feet away, his back to me as he watche
