The golden sun dipped low over the horizon, casting its waning light through the arching windows of the high palace. As dusk bled into night, the stone spires of Thaloriel capital of the High Elven Empire—seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky, piercing clouds with silent judgment. The castle sat perched like a crown atop the mountain cliffs, bathed in an ethereal light, its marble halls gleaming with the last breath of day. But inside the Queen’s Solarium, no light could brighten the chill in the air.
Vaerilith stood motionless beneath a curved mosaic of glass and vine-wrapped steel. Her silken gown, woven from silverleaf thread, shimmered like mist over moonlit water, but the restless curl of her fingers at her sides betrayed the storm within. It had been seven days. Seven days withou
