The night sky above Lockwood shimmered with an unnatural blue glow. I stood on the royal observatory's balcony, my hands gripping the stone railing so tightly my knuckles had turned white. After years of preparation, of calculations and countermeasures, of sleepless nights poring over ancient texts—they were here.
"It's happening exactly as the texts predicted," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Duke Theron Thorne stepped beside me, his face illuminated by the ethereal light. "Ten years of preparation, and I still feel woefully unprepared, Your Majesty."
It felt strange hearing him address me so formally. I'd been King Evander I Valerius for just eight months since my grandfather's passing. The crown still felt heavy, foreign on my head.
"I wish Grandfather were here," I admitted. "He started these preparations with us."
