Moonlight spilled across the cold marble floor as Mirror moved silently through the east wing of the palace, where few dared to tread.
He wasn't there by order.
He was there by instinct.
Lord Velyr had always spoken with too much calm… too many careful words. Mirror had noticed the way Velyr avoided eye contact with the Empress and how he lingered near the war table just a little too long.
And tonight, Velyr had slipped away after court, cloaked in gray, thinking no one noticed.
But Mirror had followed.
Down through the hidden door behind the library shelf. Past walls lined with dragon bone carvings.
He found it.
A chamber beneath the castle—cold, ancient, and lit by strange blue flame.
In its center stood a mirror—not like himself, but an arcane scrying glass humming with forbidden magic. On the stone table lay scrolls marked in a language long dead: Old Veyari, the language of the Fallen Seers.
Mirror's eyes narrowed.
Then he heard it—Velyr's voice, whispering not to himself... but into the mirror.
"Myreiya grows strong. Too strong. The moment she ascends, we move. The Empire of Kael'theron will fall in three moons. We will control the Heartfire. The Abyss will rise again."
Mirror's blood ran cold.
Kael'theron—that was her empire.
And Velyr... wasn't just a noble.
He was a traitor. A seer of the Abyss. A shadow inside the light.
Mirror took one step back—but a loose stone shifted beneath his foot.
The mirror shimmered. Velyr turned sharply, eyes meeting Mirror's.
Their silence clashed louder than steel.