ALPHA CYRUS
She didn't like it…
The council room smelled of parchment, wax, and the faint iron tang of weapons polished earlier that morning. I sat at the head of the long table, arms folded, listening to my advisors argue over border patrol schedules and rogue sightings. Their voices blended, a low rumble beneath the storm inside my mind… Draven. My son. My heir. But my greatest worry.
Before I could respond to the question one of the men asked, the heavy wooden doors slammed open with a force that rattled the hinges.
Lydia barged in.
Her eyes were blazing, her gown trailing behind her like the tail of an angry comet. I didn’t need to be told she was furious… her aura hit the room like a slap.
“Cyrus!” she snapped. “How dare you?!”
My advisors stiffened.
I closed my eyes briefly.
