The thunder cracked above the Valean Palace, a cruel echo of the chaos unfolding within. Lightning split the sky into burning streaks of white, illuminating the city of Avalora in flashes like a war drum pounding toward an inevitable reckoning.
Cambria stood on the eastern balcony of the war chamber, her cloak billowing in the rising storm wind. Her eyes, silver with a strange glint of the divine, scanned the horizon. Below, the people were rallying. Fires burned some from rebellion, others from celebration. The city was divided between fear and loyalty.
Behind her, the chamber doors groaned open.
"You called for me, my Queen?"
Knox's voice was smooth, low, and unreadable.
Cambria turned slowly, her face revealing nothing. "You're late."
"I was putting out a few…fires," he said casually, shrugging off his rain-soaked coat and throwing it onto the obsidian armchair. "Literally and metaphorically."
She eyed him sharply. "You're bleeding."
