The night air was heavy with the weight of something unseen.
Lyla sat on her throne of shadows, carved from the darkness itself, her hands resting on the cold arms of the seat.
The Marked Ones had been silent for hours, waiting. Watching.
They had sworn their loyalty.
They had chosen her.
But she could feel it.
The unspoken question lingering in the air like smoke.
Would she be strong enough to lead them?
Or would she fall like all those before her?
She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.
The power inside her stirred, restless. Hungry.
She clenched her fists.
She would not be consumed.
Not yet.
Her throne wasn’t like the ones in ancient halls.
It was alive, pulsing with energy.
The Marked Ones had no castles, no marble floors only the ruins of the forgotten world.
And Lyla s
