The throne room was no longer a symbol of unity.
It had become a battlefield of wills.
Ashes clung to the carved obsidian tiles, the gilded banners of House Vale shredded and smeared with blood. The stained glass windows that once told the story of the Vale lineage were shattered, shards glittering like fallen stars on the ground.
Cambria stood at the center of it all, her crown slightly askew, her breathing shallow but measured. The roar of battle outside still thundered through the cracked walls. She could feel the chaos clawing at the edges of her focus, but she couldn't afford to flinch.
Before her, Knox bled from a gash on his temple, his chest rising and falling with rage. "You think you've won, don't you?" he hissed, voice barely above a whisper.
"No," Cambria replied coldly. "I think we've both lost too much already."
