The moon hung full and heavy in the sky, bathing Shadowveil Keep in luminous silver. After the successful council demonstrations and the fragile new agreements, Liora and Riven had slipped away from the lingering feasts and watchful eyes. Their chambers felt like a sanctuary tonight—candles flickering softly, the scent of healing herbs and night-blooming jasmine drifting through the open window.
Liora sat cross-legged on the thick rug before the hearth, her back against Riven’s chest. The day’s political maneuvering had left her drained, but the spark of life within her burned steadily, a quiet reminder of why they fought so hard. Riven’s arms encircled her protectively, yet tonight there was a different tension in him—something he had been carrying since their first meeting in the wilds.
