The court was awake.
For the first time since Aelia arrived, the great hall pulsed with activity. Shadows that once slumbered now moved with purpose. Servants darted from corridor to corridor. Silver-armored guards lined the stairwells. Torchlight bloomed in the rafters. It was as though the entire Hollow Palace had stirred — and now watched her.
Kael hadn't come for her that morning.
Instead, a formal summons arrived — sealed in black wax, the symbol of the throne carved into its surface: a crown split by lightning.
> You are to appear before the Circle of Thorns.
---
✧
They called it a "council," but it felt more like a judgment.
Six figures sat in thrones of carved obsidian — not quite alive, not quite dead. Their skin shimmered with magic, their eyes silver or gold or red. These were Kael's advisers. His protectors. And once, his punishers.
Aelia stood before them, chin lifted, heart steady.
Kael sat at the highest tier, above them all — watching.
Not interfering.
She didn't know whether to be comforted or terrified by that.
Then the one in the center spoke.
---
"Lady Aelia of the Mortal Realm," said the woman in blue velvet, her voice precise. "You are no longer considered a guest."
Aelia's breath caught. "I—"
"You are a catalyst," the woman continued. "Your presence has awakened Queen Lysara's remains. You have disrupted the Veil. The realm's balance trembles."
Aelia looked toward Kael.
He didn't speak.
He watched.
Another figure, tall and thin with bone-pale skin, leaned forward.
"I propose she be confined to the Eastern Wing," he said. "Where her magic can be monitored. Studied. Extracted, if necessary."
A low murmur passed among the others.
Aelia's skin crawled. "I'm not a weapon."
The bone-skinned man smiled, too wide. "Aren't you?"
---
Then another voice spoke. One Aelia hadn't heard before.
Male. Younger. Quiet — but dripping with malice.
"I propose she be destroyed."
The chamber fell silent.
Kael stood.
His voice sliced through the stillness. "No."
The man who had spoken stood now too — tall, broad-shouldered, his dark red robes gleaming like blood in the torchlight. His eyes were sharp as daggers. His aura—foul.
Lord Theros.
A general. A mage. One of the old guard who had once served Queen Lysara.
"She is her reincarnation," Theros said coldly. "You feel it. I feel it. The magic around her sings the same song. Lysara returns through her — and with her, the curse."
Aelia stepped forward. "I'm not her."
"But you remember her. Don't you?"
She hesitated.
And that was enough.
Theros smiled. "You're a door she left open. A wound that never healed."
---
Kael's voice rumbled from the throne.
"She is under my protection."
"She is under the realm's scrutiny," Theros snapped.
The council buzzed. Whispers. Eyes.
Aelia looked up at Kael. "You knew this would happen."
"I hoped it wouldn't," he said quietly. "But Lysara's name still poisons these halls."
"She wasn't just your wife, was she?"
"No," he said. "She was a queen. And a threat."
---
✧
Later that evening, back in her chambers, Aelia found her door unlatched.
Inside, the fire had been extinguished. Her mirror was broken. And on her bed—
A small, obsidian dagger.
Its blade carved with ancient runes.
And a note:
> You should not be alive.
Leave, or next time it will not be a warning.
---