No one came in. No one left. By sunrise, the palace already felt different—less like a home for kings and queens and more like a place meant to hold prisoners.
The iron gates stayed locked. Magic shimmered over them, guards doubled up, weapons always at the ready. Every door barricaded, every servant eyed with suspicion, every noble under a watchful gaze.
Overnight, luxury turned into lockdown.
And fear moved faster than anyone.
People whispered in the corners. Rumors twisted and multiplied—the stories all the same, just with different faces or victims. A guard dead. An enemy nobody could name. A last-minute warning, barely spoken before the end. A threat hanging in the air.
No one really knew anything.
Which just made it worse.
Nyra stood at her window, watching the soldiers in the
