The moon carved silver shadows across the citadel walls as Avelyn slipped from her chambers, hood drawn low over her face. Her cloak whispered against the stone like a ghost, her boots silent. She didn’t bother looking over her shoulder—she already knew the patrol routes, every creaky floorboard, every turn of the palace guards.
She moved like a predator now. A shadow honed by pain, rejection, and a purpose that would no longer be silenced.
This wasn’t about rest.
It was about survival. Dominance.
It was about finally mastering the wildfire inside her.
The catacombs beneath the palace were cold, damp, and unforgiving—just like the court. But at least here, in the depths where no throne or crown watched, she could fight to become what she was meant to be.
Avelyn paused at the arched e
