The throne room, once silent and still, thrummed with tension.
Elizabeth stood at the center, Solbrand strapped across her back, her golden eyes fixed on the emissary who had just delivered news from the northern front, a border village razed to the ground. No survivors. Only ash and symbols were carved into the earth, symbols she recognized.
The mark of the Forgotten God.
Beside her, Lucian’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t just a warning. It’s a declaration.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said softly. “It’s saying I’m not done yet.”
Kieran stepped forward, blood still crusted on his gauntlet from a skirmish he’d barely survived. “I saw them, El. Not just corrupted wolves anymore. Things are moving in the mists. Things with no faces.”
“The Forgotten God’s reach is growing again,” Isolde said, her voic
