The wind howled through the high peaks of SilverCrest, cold and biting, as if mourning the old ways. But within […]

The council chamber was colder than usual. Not in temperature — the hearth blazed — but in energy. The usual

The nursery was quiet, but Aria could feel the storm in her chest. It had been three days since Kael’s

It began with silence. Not the quiet of peace, but the kind that follows collapse. The kind that rots in

They called it the Archive of Oaths. A stone tower tucked behind the council chambers, warded with runes old as

The council chamber was still reeling in Marek’s absence. His final words had scattered like embers, but the flames they’d

The council chamber reeked of incense and old blood. Massive stone columns loomed on either side, carved with the crests

The stars above SilverCrest burned cold and bright, scattered across the ink-dark sky like fractured promises. In the valley below,

The air in the sanctum felt like glass—thin, fragile, and ready to shatter. Aria stood frozen, magic binding her limbs

The fire crackled in the center of the war tent. Outside, the wind howled through the pines, carrying the scent