Beneath the palace, in the cold, abandoned chambers carved from ancient stone, the Duchess moved like a priestess conducting a sacred rite.
Her voice was soft, yet powerful, laced with ancient magic as she stood before a circle of armored figures—Dark Knights, once thought lost to myth. Their helms bore the insignia of black serpents and screaming skulls. Their eyes glowed with an eerie crimson light, undead yet bound to her will.
"You've slumbered long enough," she said, her voice no longer Nicole's, but that of the Duchess—dark, seductive, cruel. "The world has forgotten your names… but I remember."
One by one, they knelt before her.
"Your blades will carve a new dawn. Not for peace. Not for mercy. But for domination."
She raised her hands as swirling shadows cloaked her shoulders like a royal mantle. "Begin preparations. In two weeks, the northern border will fall. And from there… the world."
Meanwhile, Across the Ice Rivers — Jasper and Serf
