A distant roar erupted from the palace courtyard, and Marcus’ golden eyes narrowed. The entity had noticed a shift. It was aware that the last Sovereign was close. Marcus spread his wings and prepared to move, silent and unstoppable, through the city toward Arabella. The first step toward their reunion—and toward the war that would decide the fate of kingdoms—had begun. The city below was alive with tension. Even in darkness, the air vibrated with a pulse of fear and power. Soldiers marched in precise patterns, the banners of the Eastern Kingdom blackened by the shadow that now ruled the palace. Every torch flickered uneasily, as if sensing the presence of something greater than themselves.
Marcus moved silently above the streets, wings folded tight, his golden eyes scanning the city with
