The Queen’s private sanctum was quiet, lit only by moon-silver candles that flickered with a soft, steady glow. The flames did not behave like normal fire. They swayed in slow, deliberate movements, as if responding to a rhythm only ancient magic could hear. The air hummed with power, old and patient, the kind that felt like it had been waiting centuries for this exact moment. The walls were carved with symbols that pulsed faintly, each one a heartbeat of light.
Elara stood in the center of a circle carved into the stone floor. The runes beneath her feet glowed softly, warm at first, then cool, then warm again, like they were testing her resolve. Her heart pounded, but her hands remained steady. She had made her choice. She would not run from the Shadow Prince. Not anymore.
Riven materia
