Beykoz, Istanbul – Villa Aras, 1:08 AM
The night air slid through the open balcony doors, brushing softly against La Reyna's bare arms. She didn't flinch. Her gaze remained locked on the Bosphorus, dark and restless, like a sea that whispered secrets only the dead could understand.
She stood motionless on the marble floor, barefoot, wrapped in nothing but a black satin robe and silence. In her hand—an old silver ring. Scratched, dull, the blue gem chipped at the edge. Her mother's ring. The only thing that survived the fire in Lyon. Just like her.
Her fingers trembled. Not from the cold, but from the weight of everything left unsaid—to her mother, to Lucien… and to herself.
"If she were still alive… would she recognize me?"
Her reflection flickered in the glass door. Distant. No longer Fathya El'Raez. No longer even La Reyna. Just a shadow of someone who couldn't remember what it meant to feel whole.
A door creaked behind her.
"You're still up."
Emir's voice—low, careful. He always knew how to approach her. And when not to.
"I never slept," Reyna murmured. "Sleep has been a luxury since Lyon."
He stepped forward, a folder in his hand. He set it gently on the small table beside the balcony. "Updates from Lyon. Montclair has been evacuated. Maeryss is moving something... she's calling it the Selari Darah."
Reyna didn't turn. "That's not my concern."
"It was your father's."
Her grip on the ring tightened.
"I'm tired of inheriting his wars."
A pause. Thick silence stretched between them.
"There's another matter," Emir added.
She raised a brow slightly, still facing the sea.
"The Eminönü gallery. A potential investor from Naples is offering full restoration funding—but with one condition."
Her head turned slightly.
"He wants unrestricted access to the underground vault."
She turned fully this time, eyes sharp.
"That vault holds more than relics," she snapped. "There are things down there that should never see daylight again."
"He knows," Emir said quietly. "That's why he's interested."
Reyna walked back into the room. Moonlight followed her like a reluctant ghost. She stopped near the fireplace and set the ring on the mantle. It landed with a soft metallic thud.
"What else?"
Emir hesitated.
"Lucien."
Her shoulders stiffened.
"What about him?"
"He's under surveillance. Not by us. One of the Council's arms. Likely under Maeryss's directive."
Of course. Maeryss. Always watching, always waiting to pierce through Reyna's armor—and Lucien had always been her most fragile seam.
"He's not safe anymore," Emir said. "They're waiting for a slip-up. Either from him… or from you."
Reyna's voice was flat. "He won't slip."
Emir stepped closer. "You can't protect him from everything. Not unless you face what's waiting in the south."
Reyna turned to him. "What's in the south?"
He placed a sealed envelope on the coffee table. "Coordinates. A site your father marked in blood. Only a true heir can open it. I believe it's the final Vault."
Reyna sat down slowly, staring at the envelope like it might explode.
"I don't even know who I am anymore, Emir."
"You don't need to," he said. "You just need to know what you're willing to lose."
Another silence. Then a question that cracked at her ribs.
"If I choose to save him… and lose the truth?"
"Then you'll live with the truth you chose."
She didn't answer.
Her fingers drifted to the chain around her neck—the broken sigil her father left behind. The one Lucien once held like it was sacred.
"He told me once," Reyna whispered, "that I was the kind of woman who burned everything she touched."
Emir stayed quiet.
"But he was wrong. I burn… because no one ever taught me how to heal."
Her eyes opened.
Clear. Icy.
"I want the plane ready by dawn."
"Where to?"
She picked up the envelope and broke the seal. Inside—an old map. A red line traced from Lyon down toward the southern coast of France. In her father's hurried scrawl:
"Marseille. House of Glass."
She murmured, half to herself:
"If this is the final Vault, then I'll go.But if I lose Lucien before I reach it… I'll never know if I chose truth… or just ran from guilt."
She stood.
The moonlight touched her face like a late blessing.
Chapter ends with:
From the balcony, the sea kept whispering.But La Reyna no longer listened.
She was chasing silence now.
And silence... had never led her anywhere safe.