Darkness.
That was the first thing Kaelira remembered.
Not the battle.
Not the sword.
Not even Ronan’s broken voice whispering, Forgive me.
Just darkness.
Then came the pain.
A sharp ache spread through her chest where Ronan’s blade had pierced her. Every breath felt like broken glass scraping against her ribs.
She tried to move.
Cold iron snapped tight around her wrists.
Her eyes flew open.
She wasn’t in the palace.
She wasn’t in the capital.
She was in a stone chamber lit by a single torch, the air damp and cold.
Heavy silver chains wrapped around her wrists, ankles, and waist, each one engraved with ancient runes that pulsed faintly whenever she tried to summon her power.
The Blood Sovereign…
Had become a prisoner.
Kaelira forced herself to sit upright, ignoring the pai
