The Shadow King waited in silence.
No guards.
No illusion.
Just him — tall, composed, shrouded in smoke and gold.
His presence filled the great hall like a storm waiting to break.
Ivy stepped forward slowly, her footsteps echoing across the black marble floor.
She could feel the walls pulsing with power. With bloodline. With memory.
This place didn’t just recognize her — It belonged to her.
“You came alone,” the Shadow King said.
“I didn’t need anyone else.”
He smiled faintly. “So much like your mother.”
The air shifted.
“I’m not her,” Ivy said. “I won’t make her mistakes.”
He tilted his head. “Won’t you? She stood where you are now. She looked me in the eye. And in the end, she still chose weakness.”
“She chose love,” Ivy snapped.
“She chose to run.”
Ivy’s flames curled up
