Adrian's POV
The moon hangs low tonight, casting a cold, silver glow over the stone corridors of the palace. Outside, the wind howls like a warning, pressing against the windows and rattling through the eaves. Inside, the torchlight flickers on the high, arched walls, creating shadows that dance across the old stone like ghosts with unfinished business.
I stand at the top of the stairway, one hand gripping the railing, the other clenched tight at my side. My eyes track the movements below—my guards returning from the southern border outpost with Amaya and Eve. For a moment, I don't breathe. The sight of them brings with it a flood of things I don't know how to name. Both women look worn, their clothes dust-stained and their faces marked by exhaustion. But there's no mistaking the fire in their eyes or the way their heads lift defiantly as they walk through the palace doors. That quiet, unyielding strength—they still have it.
