The heavy iron-reinforced doors of the royal sanctuary slammed shut behind King Kaelen, the echoing thud reverberating through the vast, fire-lit bedchamber. He stood by the threshold, his chest heaving under his dark silk tunic as the venomous echoes of Lady Lyra’s departure twisted like a knife inside his mind.
The primary aim of Lyra’s uninvited intrusion had been achieved with terrifying, malicious precision. When she had looked the King dead in the eye and sneered that she had merely come to inspect his magical plaything, she had intentionally designed the phrase to strike at his deepest, rawest trauma. The words were a calculated poison, meant to weaponize his historical hatred of sorcery and shatter the fragile sanctuary he had built for Valeria.
Kaelen crossed the room in three m
