Ilode POV
The night air burned sweet.
It was everything Mira had promised—cleansing light and divine retribution for a corrupt bloodline. The glass domes collapsed one by one, the sound rolling through the valley like thunder.
Ilode smiled faintly. Finally, she thought. They’ll see the truth now.
She wiped soot from her palms, ignoring the sting. Her nails were blackened, her breath still thick with the scent of solvent. The witches had done their part; she’d lit the fuse. All that was left was to vanish until the word came down from Mira herself.
The ledger still haunted her, though—a single, stupid failure. She had searched the cellar until her hands bled. The book of names, trades, and bloodlines—Mira had said it was the key to proving the royal heirs were cursed. But it hadn’t bee
