The hall fell silent as the golden doors creaked open.
Liora stood at the threshold, her bare feet touching the cold marble tiles, her heart thundering like a drum of war. Before her stood the entire royal council, cloaked in judgment, eyes piercing her soul.
She wasn't just anyone anymore.
She was the hidden heiress.
And they knew.
Whispers danced like ghosts across the room.
"She carries the mark…"
"Born of flame and betrayal…"
"Unworthy…"
Liora's fingers tightened around the medallion resting on her collarbone. The sigil of her mother—long executed for treason. A name spoken only in hate, a name now reborn in her veins.
King Thorne rose from his throne, his robe flowing like shadows around his feet. "Liora Velantra, daughter of Elina the Exiled… step forward."
She obeyed, though every instinct screamed to run.
"My lords say you are a threat. That the blood in your veins seeks revenge, not peace. Speak, child. Who are you really?"
Silence. A moment so tense it could snap steel.
"I am Liora," she said softly. "But not a threat. Not unless threatened."
A ripple moved through the chamber.
The High Seer leaned forward, eyes glowing faintly. "The prophecy is shifting. We must tread carefully. If she's the chosen one, we dare not bind her. If she's the destroyer, it may already be too late."
Suddenly, fire burst across the stained-glass windows.
BOOM!
The eastern tower exploded into flames—smoke and ash swirling like an omen.
From the blaze walked a figure cloaked in blue-black robes. His face obscured, but his voice… unmistakable.
"Give me the girl, or I'll turn this kingdom into dust."
The enemy had arrived. Not with armies.
But for her—only her.
"Master Eron…" she whispered. "You're alive…"
King Thorne bellowed, "Guards! Protect the heir!"
Too late. Eron raised his hand—and the guards froze in midair, bodies suspended like puppets.
He looked at Liora, eyes like black moons. "You are mine, child of light. The contract was written in blood long before your birth."
Liora's knees buckled, but she didn't fall. She stepped forward instead.
"If I'm truly the heir of Velantra… then I choose who holds the chain."
With a scream that shook the heavens, her medallion glowed crimson—shards of magic erupting around her, forming wings of molten gold.
She wasn't running anymore.
She was awakening.