A brittle chill ran through the council chamber as dawn's first light filtered through high lancet windows. Regent Selene sat atop her violet-draped throne, flanked by Varric and Aurelia. Marin Ashveil stood before them—her wrists free but her shoulders squared as guards formed a silent circle around the dais. Elias Bloodmoor lingered at the edge of the room, crimson eyes flashing beneath his hood.
Selene's gaze swept over the assembled nobles, generals, and scholars. “We convene at last," she announced, voice smooth as silk. “Today we determine Marin Ashveil's fate—and the empire's future."
A murmur rippled through the chamber. Marin's heart hammered beneath her throat-scarred skin. She exchanged a brief glance with Elias, who inclined his head—steadfast reassurance in his silent vow.
