Elara did not leave the highlands. The air around the newly manifested ruins hummed with a frequency that made her bones ache, yet she found herself unable to turn away. The obsidian rings rested on the cold stone of the throne, dark and heavy with the gravity of centuries. She reached out, her fingers hovering just inches from the surface, and felt the distinct chill of a winter that would never end.
You should not be here, Elara, a voice resonated, not in the air, but directly into her consciousness. It was Lyra, though the tone was distant, as if spoken through a thick wall of ice. The throne demands a price from those who listen to its silence.
Elara withdrew her hand, her breath visible in the freezing mountain air. I did not ask for this, she whispered to the empty chamber. I was s
