Serena’s POV
The Obsidian vault loomed before us like a fortress carved into the mountainside itself. After two grueling days of hard riding, with ambushes and watchful eyes haunting every mile, we had finally arrived. My body screamed with exhaustion, but the sight of those ancient stone doors reinforced with iron and glowing runes filled me with a strange mixture of hope and dread. This place held the answers I desperately needed.
Alaric dismounted first, his movements still fluid despite the long journey. He had ridden at the front the entire way, rarely resting, always scanning for threats. Our conversations during the ride had grown deeper—shared stories of loss, quiet admissions of the burdens we both carried. He was no longer just the terrifying King who had come to collect a debt
