The Crowned Court didn’t look like any fortress I’d ever imagined.
It wasn’t built to intimidate with sharp walls or black stone. It was beautiful—hauntingly so. Moonstone towers arched into the sky like frozen light. Ivy crawled over carved balconies. Pale banners fluttered in the wind, embroidered with silver wolves beneath a crescent moon.
The power here wasn’t in the walls.
It was in the silence.
The weight of ancient magic lingered in the air, thick and knowing. The closer we rode, the more it wrapped around my skin, recognizing me. Or… remembering me.
Nyra stirred. This place is old. Older than him. Older than war.
Lucian reached for my hand as we passed through the outer gates.
“I had this place rebuilt to be strong,” he said, “but it still remembers the old ways. You may fee
