Mira walked briskly through the castle corridors, her steps echoing with purpose.
This was the moment they had waited for—yearned for—for years.
If their people could finally escape the cursed lands, they would be free to explore the world again, to tame stronger beasts, and to reclaim their rightful place in the Elven Council—the position that had been unjustly stripped from them.
The thought alone made her heart race, her entire body buzzing with anticipation.
As she neared the towering double doors that led to the throne room, the two guards standing on either side gave her a brief glance before pushing them open.
The doors creaked as they swung apart, revealing the grand hall beyond.
At the far end, mounted atop an elevated dais like a mountain carved into the stone, was the throne.
And seated on it was Castan.
For once, his eyes weren't closed in meditation or weariness.
They were wide open—sharp, focused.
As if he had been expecting someone.
